Page 23 of Caveman Alien’s Terror (Caveman Aliens #25)

23

- Praxigor -

It’s very pure gold around a core of worthless iron. The gold is pitted and old, but it doesn’t come from a dragon’s hoard. It has been cast in the shape of a dagger, and no attempt has been made to sharpen it because sharpening pure gold is not possible. It’s a crude thing, made with little care.

But it’s gold. And it’s enough.

“Thank you,” I hear myself say. I must be the first dragon to ever utter that phrase.

A hot light spreads from my hand, up my arm, and then to the rest of me. I become strong; I become dragon; I become Praxigor. Light engulfs me as I Change to my real shape. My mind sharpens and becomes ruthless. The ropes snap and drop from me, the slayers scream and run, the world turns from green to glorious gold.

The pain in every part of my body drops away as I come alive again. The too-tight skin expands to fit me again, the scales go hard, and there is a joyous release as the muscles grow longer and thicken. The world shimmers around me, the dull colors becoming sharp and clear.

I laugh in sheer bliss as my wings reach their full size. Beating them, I take off from the ground, enjoying how I raise a huge plume of dust over this wretched village as the crowd disperses and the slayers flee. Only Astrid is left, staring up at me.

Wind whips and whistles along my scales and spikes. My tail curls up in sheer delight before stretching out behind me, long and agile and deadly.

Oh, this is magnificent! I’m myself again!