... The dragon emerged from the forest to the south, shaking its massive scaly head as a dog might shake off bathwater.  “Lord love a duck!” the dragon blurted.  His long, narrow mouth undulated as he spoke the King’s English, an unnatural tongue for his race.

         Fenn put his hands on his hips.  “What in the name of the netherworld took you so long?”

         “Afraid I got lost on-route,” the dragon replied, waddling across the clearing.  The beast had a huge palm frond tied like an eye-patch over his wounded right eye.  “You know how I am with directions.  Are you well?  I didn’t hurt you with my tail, did I?  That was an accid...

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