~~~

  Wyrmwood woke up feeling absolutely awful. Before even opening his eyes he couldn’t help but let out a groan. His midsection was killing him! It felt like he was being ripped in-

  He jolted awake as his last memories came back to him, quickly checking both himself and his surroundings. The good news was that he was whole again… somehow. The bad news was that he seemed to be trapped in a container made up of unnaturally hard rock. Wyrmwood was relatively certain that Mayflare called these things ‘cages.’ Something the humanoids loved to stick others in.

  It was mostly solid rock…er, metal, it was called metal. It was mostly solid metal, with the exception of some raised slits that let in some decent light and fresh air. There was actually enough room in the cage to adjust his position, if he wanted to, and still have a bit of room leftover. The corners of this cage were rounded, presumably to make sure Wyrmwood was a little more comfortable (?), and, more concerningly, there were no obvious gaps anywhere that might indicate which wall was the way out. While he looked he did find two holes in the roof though. Both of which, of course, were too small to even think of escaping through.

  As much as Wyrmwood wanted to immediately break free from this cage. He didn’t think he had the strength for it. He felt awful, weak, and his midsection was still killing him! When he looked at the spot he saw a giant scar circling the spot. With that area now lacking his scales he could even see that everything around the scar was either raw or bruised looking.

  His cage jolted suddenly, causing him to let out a hiss of pain. He looked through the slits on the wall to hopefully get an idea of what was happening outside.

  To his surprise, not only was his cage on the move, he could also see that wherever they were was significantly less wooded. The trees were getting sparse and shorter and were continuing to be more and more so as the cage continued to move!

  As he watched, an armored centaur rode up into view with a hooded figure on its back, though judging by the unhidden paws Wyrmwood decided it was safe to assume it was also a beastkin. The hooded figure seemed to notice his gaze through the cage slits as a feminine “He’s up!” was shouted right after.

  Wyrmwood could hear a commotion outside, yet he still couldn’t really see anyone else and they didn’t slow down for now.

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  “Who?” He hissed at the cloaked figure and the centaur she was riding. “Where?”

  “Wow, speech capable, are you?” She then pulled off her cloak head, revealing the proud visage of a lioness. Her stoic eyes and the way she held herself made Wyrmwood’s draconic instincts tell him she was ‘regal’ and thus worth his time.

  “I am Princess Fluffy Mittens Scratchalot and you, Lindworm, are my captive.”

  “Why?” Wyrmwood asked curiously.

  “Though you’re different from other lindworms, the fact that you are a dragon denotes that you can still wield great power. It is every nations desire to-”

  “Princess,” The centaur interrupts her. “It's in our best interests to not give captives our nation’s secrets. Especially not when said captive is an intelligent dragon.”

  The lioness rolls her eyes, a gesture unseeable to the centaur she is riding on the back of.

  “Yes, Philip, I know. But as this dragon will eventually be a part of our kingdom’s forces, it's important that it knows who holds the carrot and stick.”

  The armored centaur Philip sighs tiredly in the same way that Mayflare had when having to repeat something to Wyrmwood for the tenth time. “Princess, You’ve been warned multiple times that that phrase is derogatory to our herbivorous citizens. Scout Jackie is nearby and you know how good her hearing is, do you really wish to be scolded again?”

  Wyrmwood watches with growing annoyance as a shudder goes through Princess Fluffy. “You are quite right once again Sir Philip, Scout Jackie is-”

  Annoyed at being ignored for the first time in his admittedly short life, Wyrmwood cuts in. “You... want… me fight?” Wyrmwood had to speak slowly and haltingly. The beastkin language wasn’t hard to understand since an appreciable amount of the growls and hisses overlapped with the draconic language. It was, however, difficult for Wyrmwood to properly pronounce the many different squeaks that were also included. His naturally raspy throat made such squeaks a proverbial, and occasionally literal, pain in the neck.

  “Yes, but not until you’ve properly grown of course.” The Princess immediately answers back. “In a decade perhaps, you will be expected to repay our service with your own.”

  “Why?”

  “Because all the nations-”

  “Princess!” The centaur once again cuts her off.

  Sighing, the Princess turns to focus her attention forward now, facing wherever direction it is that they are heading.

  “Look, we might talk later, once we are camping out for the night. Until then it's best that you rest. We did find you unconscious and half dead after all. I’m interested in hearing how a dragon hatchling killed an adult griffin.”

  Wyrmwood was quite surprised by that bit of news, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he coiled up in his cage and tried to get some sleep. His mind kept repeating what the Princess had said at the end. “I’m interested in hearing how a dragon hatchling killed an adult griffin.”

  “So am I.” Wyrmwood mumbled in draconic.

  “It was me, stupid.” A shriller, yet still raspy voice answered back from his tail. The hard, cone-shaped tip of his tail moved in front of his face all on its own and opened up to reveal a wriggling maw inside, with a sharp insectile proboscis slightly poking out of the back!

  “!!!”

  Wyrmwood did not yelp. No matter what anyone else tells you.

  ~~~

  CAN mate with any other species because, magic... And that's all I'm ever going to say about it.