Page 4

FENROTHER

S he has no pizzle.

I fall to the ground to get a closer look, but it is true, there is no pizzle, just a simple slit where she pisses.

I am astonished, shoving my head in as her piss doesn’t smell as bad as other piss, even mine.

With a squeak, Alice falls over backwards.

“What are you doing?” she yells at me.

“What are you doing?” I want to ask about her lack of pizzle, but instead I feel like I should inspect her further, to see what else she lacks, apart from the obvious—scales, wings, tail, and horns.

I lift her to her feet, the piss forgotten, and pluck at the rest of the clothing she wears.

It is damp and some of it comes away in my hand.

“Stop it,” Alice says.

“Remove this,” I growl.

“I need to check for…hidden weapons… before we continue.”

“Not a chance,” she responds, folding her arms over her chest.

I put my face close to hers.

A Lambton Wyrm is not used to being defied, especially by little creatures like her.

“Don’t challenge me.” I shift my fangs, making them long and dangerous.

Her eyes widen, and there is a stench of fear which comes from her, although it’s swiftly followed by the sweet scent of defiance.

This female is intriguing, not least her lack of pizzle.

I know she is female by the diagrams I’ve seen.

And my instinct, the thing which drew me all the way from my lair, from my castle keep and my ancestral lands, tells me she is female.

“Fine.” She shrugs off the damaged outer garment and then, with a brief look around us, as if anyone would approach a Wyrm here on my hill, she pulls the second garment over her head, revealing soft, creamy skin.

Definitely scaleless.

There is another garment she wears.

It crosses over her chest like a weapons holster.

I rear up. I should have known better than to trust anything left in the Yeavering, anything which has a hint of Faerie about it.

Nothing is what it seems.

I strike out with a claw, flicking the holster from her body.

It flies through the air, and I catch it on the end of my tail.

It is empty.

The noise of distress she makes is enough to convince me she is not what she seems at all.

Even if the holster appears empty, she could have disposed of the weapons anywhere along our flight route.

“Did you think you could fool me?” I snarl at her, attempting not to show my own fear.

“You cannot kill a Wyrm, if that is your intention.”

The female gasps, her arms crossed over her chest. Now her upper clothing is missing and her lower garments around her ankles, I see she has fur in a small strip around the area where her pizzle should be, and there are lumps on her upper half which bulge over her folded arms alarmingly.

Her stomach also has a strange depression.

I take hold of her shoulders, twisting her away from me to search for further hidden weapons.

Her bottom is, thankfully, quite normal.

Small rounded globes, pinked and rather pleasant looking.

I turn her back to me, and she flails her arms, releasing the rounded globes on her front.

I stare at them. I was absolutely right—no pizzle and these additional lumps.

She is very different to a Wyrm.

I run my hand over the mounds.

These could also hold weapons.

There are other creatures in the Yeavering which can conceal items within their bodies, such as the Hedley Kow or the vampires.

I can’t trust anything.

Everyone wants a piece of the Wyrm.

My claw sweeps over the first globe, and it feels rather nice in my hand.

The strange deep pink surround in the centre rises at my touch.

I pull my hand away, and the female instantly covers herself with her hands.

“Have you seen enough?” Her voice is strangely choked and her body shaking.

I snort.

“I need to know my enemy,” I respond.

“And until you prove otherwise, that’s what you are. Put your garments back on.”

She’s already pulling up her lower garments even before I tell her to.

She grabs her upper clothing and swiftly pulls it on, picking up the weapons holster before I snatch it from her and shove it into my pocket.

“I will keep this, save you from temptation.”

Alice glares, but her eyes have no magic, proving she is, at least, no witch.

“Whatever you want,” she says, finally.

“You’re bigger than me, after all. It’s yours.” Her voice is strange, slightly strangled.

She wipes at her face for some reason.

“No one gets the better of me. Not even you, little creature. I will find any weapons you have, and I will take them,” I respond.

“I don’t have any weapons.”

It’s my turn to make a noise, this one of incredulity.

“And you think I’m going to take the word of a human , whose kind has persecuted mine for centuries?”

“Then why not leave me at the stone? Why bring me here and…” She screws up her eyes.

“ Humiliate me.”

“Because the Yeavering stone gave you to me. It called me a day and a night from my lair, and I found you.” I study her carefully.

“But nothing is what it seems in the Yeavering. And I will not take a gift without being sure it is not deadly.”

“Do I look deadly?” she bursts out.

Admittedly, she does not.

But then neither does a Redcap, and they are not creatures I’d turn my back on.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then why take me?”

“Because the stone believes it is time I take a mate.” I pull her close to me. “And it is you.”