A rusty iron blade bit deeply into the side of a zombie's skull. It's desiccated flesh and bones split apart like a rotten fruit in the wake of the attack. Sonja quietly shoved her blade forward to free it from its gory sheath and succeeded in stabbing another zombie straight through the eye socket.

She took no joy in her work. These creatures were far beneath her. At first fighting them had been a slight challenge without the addition of magic, but after she knocked a bit of metaphorical rust off of her sword skills it became easy enough to take them down with only a few well timed strikes.

Quietly, she went about piling up the unimpressive loot acquired in that last skirmish. The zombies on the surface of the graveyard had become quite scarce of late. She killed them too fast, and they did not spawn again in great numbers overnight.

So intent was she on her small amount of loot that she never noticed the slight rustle in the grass near the edge of the graveyard. She bent over and shifted her weight from side to side, her chainmail clad backside swaying with the motions. A scaly black head rose slowly above the grass atop a sinuous neck. Serpentine eyes narrowed as they gazed at their prey.

Slowly, like a hunting cat on the prowl, Blackthorne stalked forward. There was a certain grace to his still awkward movements which spoke heavily to the sort of agility he might have in the future.

Just when she seemingly stopped, as though she had heard something. Blackthorne shouted, "Fight me nerd!" then rushed in at top speed.

"What?" cried Sonja in surprise and growing anger. She whirled around, sword at the ready, but was surprised beyond words by what she saw. A dragon easily the size of a man was barreling toward her at high speed.

She did not have time to react to the new information other than to lunge to the side. Her sword flashed out in a swift and deadly arc which would have easily cleaved a zombie in half. She scored a solid strike to the beast's neck, but to her concern sparks flew from her blade as it skittered across scales harder that steel.

Blackthorne slid to a stop then spun around in place and faced her. By this time she began to realize what was happening. Her shock quickly shifted to anger, but he would not relent. He laughed loudly then crouched down and wiggled his ass in the air like a playful cat prepared to pounce.

"Ha! You fight like a girl!" he cried.

"You! Oh—" Sonja could not even articulate her rage in that moment. She rushed forward fully intent on tearing him a new laugh hole. Clearly the one he was using was impertinent and he could do with another!

Sonja tried to cut his head off once again, but her anger made her predictable. Blackthorne slipped around her blade then juked her by hopping to the other side of an overturned grave. "You call that fighting! What are you? A drunken hamster?"

"I am no drunken hamster!" she roared seriously.

The slave seal on her lower back blazed brightly as pain lanced through her body. Her desire to kill her master was quite real in that moment.

Weakened by the onset of pain, she still tried her best in that moment. Blackthorne must die!

He surprised her with his far greater skill at moving with his body. Growing up had done wonders for his ability to use his natural agility. While it was still one of his lower stats, his draconic combat skill and innate senses made his movements quite formidable.

Her sword snaked forward like a streak of lightning, but he suddenly burst into black mist then reformed behind her. By the time she realized what he had done, his tail was already in motion. During his growth period his twin tail tips had drawn together into a large spike while the place where they separated had begun expand into a mace-like protrusion. Roughly the size of a softball, his little tail mace slammed into her legs with all the fury of a sledge hammer wielded by a demented carnival worker.

"Ahh!" cried out Sonja as the force of the blow took her off her feet. The dragon pounced atop her and they wrestled briefly. Soon, however, a combination of the pain from the slave seal and his surprising amount of weight left them panting in a tangled heap.

Blackthorne looked down at his helpless prey, his eyes narrow. Sonja looked up at him, enraged, but with a hint of something else in her shimmering eyes. They shared a quiet moment together, their hearts hammered in time to their soft pants.

"So, anyway. I win," said Blackthorne lightly.

"What? The hell you do!" said Sonja in annoyance. She tried to get up, but he relaxed entirely. His dead wait was too much for her due to the lack of leverage. Even her great strength could not overcome his surprisingly heavy bulk. He did not look to be the size of a horse, but he certainly weighed as much as one.

"What is wrong with you?" she demanded angrily. "You run off for a week and come back acting like this?"

Blackthorne offered her a crocodile smile. Briefly, the voices in his head tried to make him out to be a garbage creature, but they were surprisingly lacking in volume since he finished his growth spurt. It was possible his thoughts on charisma had paid off. Perhaps the voices would need to take time to build up to their previous level of venom? Perhaps it was something else. Either way, they were clearly there. They just did not seem to be quite as potent at the moment.

"Aw. You missed me?" he asked lightly. Blackthorne reached down and nudged her forehead with his muzzle. "So sweet."

"What's gotten into you!" she exclaimed. "Why are you acting like this?"

Blackthorne rolled onto his side, and she quickly slithered free of his simple embrace, He looked up at her, his head propped lightly atop his forepaw. "I figured this was better than begging for your forgiveness."

She growled at him. "You—"

"Are so thoughtful? Yes. I know," he agreed with her shamelessly.

Sonja frowned at him, then did her best to maintain that frown when he started rubbing his chest in little circles and made a kissy face at her. "What's wrong with you!" she cried.

He laughed a little then sat up. He then stood up to his full bipedal height and looked down at her. "Yeah. You remember how I was starving and couldn't stop myself?"

She eyed him for a moment then nodded. "I guess it has something to do with you being so big now?"

He crossed his forelegs over his chest like the arms they now resembled then swayed his head from side to side in a sassy manner. "Mhm-hmmm."

"Well?" she pressed. Sonja's eyes narrowed giving them a serpentine appearance of their own.

He uncrossed his arm-legs then pointed at her as he began to enter story mode. Blackthorne regaled her with his brief memories of fleeing the town in a starving rage. There was little to tell about the time he lost his senses due to hunger, but he did mention the mound of bones that he slept on.

"So you went from a hatchling to an infant... I wonder what treasures you made?" she asked him curiously. It was obvious that she was still angry at him, but between the fight and his story she was also curious.

"Treasures?" he asked curiously. "What do you mean?"

"What? You're a dragon and don't even know that much?" she asked him.

"I'm not exactly normal, you know," he countered.

"Oh. I know that much!" she countered.

He offered her the draconic equivalent to a sardonic smile then snorted in mild amusement. He found in that moment that he was actually having a little fun with this whole thing. It was weird, that sense of confident humor. In truth, he rather liked it even if it felt like he was committing fraud. "Treasure?" he asked again.

"Well, yeah? When dragons enter dragon sleep they eat all kinds of things and create treasure?" she asked him as much as told him.

"Wait? They do?" he asked her in confusion. "What kind of treasure?"

"Well, magic artifacts... swords. Gold. Diamonds. Depends on the dragon, and probably their age or what they ate," she said.

"How do they make them? I don't remember anything like crafting?" he asked her curiously.

She blinked at him then acquired a mischievous smile. "Do you really wish to know, master?"

"Yes...?" he asked in a manner that made it seem like he in fact might not wish to know.

Sonja told him the truth and his eyes widened comically. Blackthorne asked rhetorically, "I crap treasure when I sleep?"

"How do you think dragons get so much rare treasure?" she asked him curiously.

"I thought they opened a small business or something," he said seriously.

She laughed at him merrily for a moment, but then stopped and acquired an annoyed expression. She was still quite angry at him, after all.

"I have to go back!" he exclaimed excitedly.

"Can I come, master?" she asked.

"I don't know. I use my shadow form to move through the ground. I'm better at it now even without much of an increase in skill, but I don't think I can take you that way," he said.

"Oh," she said quietly.

Blackthorne saw her crestfallen expression then nodded. "Well. I do know of an underground entrance. Can't say it actually leads to the place I need to go, but we could try it?"

"Could we?" she asked, her eyes lighting up like a child on Christmas morning.

"It's a date," agreed Blackthorne.

"A date?" she asked him curiously.

"I'll explain later. For now, do you want to fight some more? I bet you're still pretty pissed..." he said in good humor.

"Hey, that's right. I'm mad at you," she agreed with him. She said it seriously too.

He crouched low in the front and wiggled his ass like a cat. "Have at thee, oh beauteous drunken hamster!"

"I am no drunken hamster!" she roared. The battle began again, and this time it lasted for quite a while.