Khajag bathes himself in the moonlight, watching the Spectral Runes with great interest. He watches with detatchment as the shapes ebband flow from color to color, hue to hue. Suddenly, he catches the meaning of the symbols.

"Ho! Khajag!" calls Sendar's voice.

Khajag growls and turns, sitting bolt upright, a splendid beacon against the darkness. He then begins to curl himself up into a bit of a ball. He flicks his tail peevishly and projects a sigh. *I had it. I had it and I lost it! How could I lose it?"

"Lose what?"

*The Runes, you fool! I've lost their meanings! I was so close! I'll need to sit here and watch the sky again tomorrow! I thought tonight would be the last!*

"Listen to you, whining like a hatchling -"

*I could have killed you as a hatchling - should have. Then I would know the Runes and all would be well.*

"But you'd be lonely."

*So what?* Khajag raises his head simply to stare pointedly at Sendar before curling up again.

Sendar lets the conversation drop. Ever since Khajag hatched, he'd tried to appease the dragon.It didn't ever work out like that. Khajag simply didn't want to be loved or understood, and he was probably among the only ones.

Khajag closes his azure eyes and drops his head, feigning slumber. Elves are nothing but trouble, and he knows it. They are much too defenseless and too arrogant for their own goods. Dragons, on the other hand, have a right to be arrogant - they are, after all, masters of many elements. Soon, Khajag sleeps, resting his adolescent body.

Sendar awakens around midday when a shadow floods over his face. He forces his eyes open to see a metal object forced to his throat. His vision gains focus and the creature above him looks just like a very furry elf with elongated teeth. "K-Khajag!" he sputters, seeing the white mass of dragon nearby.

"Sssssilenssss, no-hair!" the brute above him hisses.

*I am here, Sendarriel. Send your thoughts to me. They can not hear them, the degenerates that they are,* Khajag's voice resounds through his head.

"Where are the other dragon-bondsssss, no-hair?"

"Hey! I have hair!"

"Anssssswer!"

"I don't know; I trained alone."

"Liessss! Thisss plassse ssssmellsss of no-hairsss! Where!"

"Not here! Elven villages!" The blade presses closer to Sendar's neck. "I'm not lying!"

*He doesn't believe you.*

'Like I had no idea of that on my own. Thanks for the heads-up.'

*Want me to eat him?*

'No! He's dirty! You might catch some mutant-virus-thing!'

*Easilly fixed.* Khajag flicks his now-mighty tail and a mass of extremely hairy elf-things fly into the Night Jewel Pool. Khajag lumbers awkwardly on what Sendar reacognizes to be fully-grown legs. He waddles to the one with the knife at Sendar's throat.

"Baaaaaaack, Demon!" the hairy elf-thing screeches.

*Next time, you sleep closely to me," Khajag states, brushing the thing into the Pool. The dragon's eyes emit a bright blue light, and the Pool whirls until the things disappear.

"You've matured overnight, Khajag. Into quite a fine dragon, too." He looks over Khajag's sleek, aquatic body, nodding approvingly.

*Naturally.*

"What were those things?"

*Orcs, of course. Two sides of the same race, you and them.*

"I expected them ugglier. Still, they were so, so..." He shudders.

*Uncivilized?*

"For lack of a better word, yes."

*As, no doubt, you were to them.*

Sendar nods solemnly. "Where did you send them?"

*A place I think they'll like very much.*

"Oh? And where's that?"

*A very ugly, swampy, briney place full of very hairy things.*

Sendar shrugs and collapses on the soft grass. "Are you going to choose a mate before we leave?"

*Why should I? I have you. You whine as much as ten mates I should imagine.*

"I love you too, Khajag."

*I'm flattered. If you'll excuse me, I'm going back to sleep.*

"Good idea." Khajag lays down in the high sunlight and Sendar curls up next to him. The elf thinks he detects a chuckle from the dragon, but is too tired to bring it up to Khajag.

Three nights later, Khajag is once more watching the Spectral Runes. He is muttering to himself and suddenly bursts into an uncontrolable fit of laughter. He rolls to his side and watches the constellation of the ship sink below the walls of Riftdale.

"What's so funny?" Sendar asks, walking from the forest with two nice-sized rabbits and a squirrel. He throws their carcasses to the ground and begins stripping each of its fur.

*Nothing you would find interresting, I should think,* Khajag replies, surprised he had still been chuckling.

"I see. So I suppose you don't want these two nice, juicy bunnies. I'll have to eat them all myself." He wipes the blood off his hands with a cloth he had found in the caverns.

*Two rabbits can not even begin to sate my hunger.*

"Fine. Hunt your own food."

*Maybe I will!*

"You do that." Sendar begins to build a fire so that he can cook the game.

*Fine.* With that, Khajag stalks into the forest.

A loud crash jerks Sendar out of his stupor a few hours before dawn. The elf sits bolt-upright and looks around. A string of curses floods his mind and he laughs, heartilly and loudly.

*What's so funny?* Khajag asks angrilly.

"Oh, nothing much," Sendar replies verbally and mentally, not even trying to hide his mirth.

*Then why are you laughing?*

"Did you catch anything yet?"

*I'm white. I'm not especially camoflaged, you know.*

Sendar laughs again. "I still have those bunnies."

*At the moment, you are more of my size dish. You should have let me eat those orcs.*

"I maintain that you would've fallen ill."

Khajag suddenly lumbers out of the forest, looking dejected. *Okay. Where are the bunnies?* he asks, his fire diminished.

"Here." Sendar tosses one of the still-uncooked rabbits to the dragon. Khajag catches it neatly and swallows it whole, letting his gizzard do the rest. The second rabbit meets the same end.

*Tomorrow we leave,* he says after he finishes, licking his teeth. *I'm taking you with me.*

"Oh?"

*Yes, so get ready. I doubt there's much you want to pack.*

"No, not especially much. Just the furs I've been collecting."

*Then get them ready. We go through the portal tomorrow at midnight.*