#205601 - Behind her was Caelia, not even wearing as much as a necklace, and grinning at Hal as if he were the castle fool. About forty paces longer, in fact, bright pink in color -- at the moment, anyway -- and gently weaving her snout and her sinuous body like a giant ferret as the boy tickled her underneath her left wing root. How many peasants have we worked to death digging up the forest floor roundabouts that fallen tree seeking another egg -- a male egg, in all love? How many spells have the Witches and Warlocks cast, seeking a trace of other dragons in the great wide world? How many spies have we sent out seeking news of such beastlings? And not one trace, not one rumor, not even one tavern tale about such monsters existing.
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