The Economist and the Dragon
by Cameron Johnston
The dragon Vermikalathyxak sighed in relief as her claw finally dislodged the splintered femur that had been embedded between two of her teeth. She spat the bone out, and it clattered down the congealed mound of bone and gristle by her side.
A huge belch expanded up her gullet, erupting in a puff of gas from her maw. She ignited it, flames brighter than the torches scattered around the cavern, reflecting shards of light from the gemstones embedded in the walls.
She glared down at the torn woollen robes scattered across the floor. Clerics always gave her gas. It was all that rich food and wine the gluttons consumed—it made them terribly fatty when compared to the lean peasant meat she was used to. Not only had they given her gas, but now she had a headache due to all that shrill praying she’d had to endure while dragoning them down, one by one.
She couldn’t help herself. She was forever vowing to eat healthier, but clerics were tasty, slow food, requiring little to no effort. Not like knights in full metal plate; those took forever to peel without ruining all that expensive shiny armour.