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Lady El carefully guided me over to the log and tied another rope to my leg to shackle me to it. Two others stood watch over me and frankly I was too tired to make any great fuss about it. I shuddered as she touched me, but otherwise did nothing. Ren and Artos watched over the whole thing as well which somehow made me feel a little better. Perhaps I felt better as they seemed responsible for feeding me.

I slept easily with a fully belly for once.

Phaegus has asked me several times if I dream and the answer is very seldom. He had to explain the concept to me the first time. If I do dream, I don't remember them all that often. I do occasionally have a dream of a warm, safe place where I was taken care of. Artos thinks that it was where I was born. I...do not like to think about this.

The next morning I was given breakfast and a pail of water to drink out of. Artos gently encouraged me to drink, watching over me the whole time. I think he was fascinated the by the way I used my tongue to draw the water into my mouth. Ren brought me some more food which I wolfed down once again. I had no idea if I would get more, or if perhaps they would take it from me.

They broke down the camp and I watched it all with interest and wariness. I still had no idea what this group of humans wanted with me or why they had not chased me off like everyone else. I had started to pick up on their language, the way they seemed to refer to each other at least, but was unsure of what it all meant. I kept silent.

Any who knows me well know that I speak my own native tongue, though there is no real reason to. No one else speaks in and there are no texts to read in it. Phaegus and Lady Dawn helped me to create an alphabet for it so I can record things if I wish. Both have learned at least some of the language. Artos is more fluent then most. I suppose that Ren would have become fluent as well, had he lived.

The first major hurdle they ran into in transporting me is that the horses would try to bolt the moment I came near, even being nervous when they picked up my scent. The other issue was getting me on the horse as I panicked the moment any of them came very close and even more so if they tired to lay hands on me. Picking me up was certainly not something that I was happy with.

Jerim solved the horse issue by simply taking some aromatic herbs and rubbing them under the horses nose, then tying a satchel full of it to their bridal. As for getting me up on the horse...

Artos suggested that everyone mount up, save for himself with whom I would be riding and Ren, so that I could see what the horses were for. Jerim laughed at the notion, saying that he was ascribing far too much to my obviously limited intelligence.They indulged him, however, and I watched with interest as they mounted the horses, thinking it strange that they had two legs, as I did, yet rode these great four legged beasts. Perhaps it had something to do with their lack of a tail and wings.

Ren pointed all this out, crouching down near me, speaking softly, gesturing at the horses and I watched him for a moment. He then very carefully reached out for me. I drew back, but did not flinch away this time. It seemed to me that was being nice and he had fed me after all. He tentatively stroked my muzzle, which has always felt nice, then after much quiet talking, lifted me up to Artos. I struggled a little, but allowed myself to be placed on the horse.

Perhaps this meant that I was to go with them to a place where I would be fed and more. Though they seemed nervous of me, they had at least not tried to hurt me. An idea was forming in my head that maybe they would take care of me and I wouldn't have to struggle to simply survive anymore, that they may protect me from the other humans who wished to harm me.

We started to ride and I was very nervous from the outset. The motion of the horse and the sense of movement without me being the one causing it was unsettling. My nervousness was easy for all to see: the darting of my tongue testing the air, the way my ears drooped, the rustling of my wings.

"I think he is nervous, Lord Artos," Ren said.

"Quite!" Artos said. "Suggestions?"

Ren blinked at being asked for his opinion. "Well, I guess you could try petting him. That works with cats and dogs. Or maybe sing to him?"

Artos laughed, which startled me slightly. "Good idea, why don't you trying singing?"

Ren blushed. "I do not sing well, sir."

Artos laughed again and started to stroke my back carefully. "Well, then I shall!" He started to sing "Lord of the Roses", a popular ballad that suited his clear tenor voice.

I was utterly transfixed. I had never head the like before. Birds sing to claim their territory. Wolves howl for the same reasons. Cat caterwaul to attract a mate. Humans, up to that point in my experience, were the only creatures who sang for the pure pleasure of doing so. I stopped moving all together, my focus totally fixed on Artos and his voice.

"Well, looks like you have a fan, brother mine!" Jerim quipped.

Artos looked at me with interest as he kept singing. I was still totally locked on him, ears at their fullest, listening to the wonderful sounds that were coming from this odd human who seemed to have nothing against me; who seemed to want to help me. He reached out slowly and ran his hand over my head and I shivered, but did not draw away, fascinated by the music. He stroked my nose a few times and I closed my eyes, thrumming in pleasure at the music and the petting.

"Well," Artos said. "I would have to say that he's a music lover in spite of my meager talents."

"It certainly calmed him," Ren said with a huge grin.

"Lovely, now we know how to entertain the beast," Lady El said, gesturing impatiently. "We need to get a move on; they expect us back at the keep by tomorrow night and we'll not gain any miles by ogling at this dragon thing."

"Certainly, oh mighty huntress!" Artos said, with a mocking bow. It jostled me and I grumbled in complaint. Ren reached out and pet me a few times and I settled. Lady El simply glared at Artos and pointedly kicked her horse into motion.

We rode on, Artos occasionally singing for me, or one of the others singing along with him when I seemed to get too nervous. I don't really remember what I thought of all that was going on. Obviously, I was calm and comfortable enough to ride with them without trying to flee or totally panic. At the same time, I do not recall being totally docile with them either. Artos said that he doesn't remember very much about it either, other than they had few troubles getting me back to the keep.

Going through the villages along the route proved to be more of an experience. Artos had the sense to coax me into allowing a cloak to be spread about me. I didn't like it, but so long as I could stick my muzzle out partially I tolerated it. Even now, I do not like to have my muzzle covered at all, not even by protective gear. I think I understood that other humans still posed a threat and that being under the cloak meant they could not see me as easily. Going with what these odd humans wanted seemed to be the best course, especially as they had fed me twice with a few snacks in between. At that time, I think I would have followed most anyone who fed me.

I know Artos. I don't think enough of myself, or at least did not then.

We crested the rise that lead into the valley that Highkeep rested in, so called because it towers over the surrounding valley; it was clearly visible even as far off as we were. Legend has it that it took a million men a thousand years to raise the hill and another thousand to build the keep itself. All of that is beyond my knowledge, though I can say that the keep is huge and ancient. Nobody seems to know all of the passages and room that dot the place. I have found a few new ones myself, one that saved the lives of the Duke and his family.

The valley was lush and green, as it most always is in the late spring or early summer, the apple trees were blooming filling the air with their sweet scent. Crops dotted the landscape with the odd village her and there that lay on the outskirts of the keep and the town outside of it. Hightown, the people who live there have named it, which makes sense in light of the keeps name.

Dust rose from the road as we rode along and I looked about with some interest as well as fear. Up to this point, all I could remember were forests. This was the first time I was in open country. I had become used to Artos well enough not to be in total fear, though I wondered where they were taking me and if I would be fed there or be made to flee.

"I'm going to take him directly to my rooms; he should be secure enough there," Artos told the group. "No one is to say anything about him at all until I can address the issue with father. Even after that, say nothing until we say otherwise."

"What about the scores of servants that will flock around you the moment they see you?" Jerim wondered.

"I'll tell them to keep out."

"Yes, lovely way to avoid suspicion!"

Artos shrugged. "I'll tell them I have a gift for father and that I want none to see it."

"Artos, you're not at all thinking of giving him that dragon thing are you?" Lady El asked worriedly.

"No, but I've a few odds and ends that I can give him as a gift so it won't be a total lie," Artos grinned. He look down at me. "Still not sure what I'm going to do with him though."

She shook her head. "Should have run him off or killed him I tell you. It's going to be no end of trouble for you, or at least another mouth to feed and body to care for."

Artos shrugged again. "Perhaps so, perhaps not. I have a feeling about him that he's important somehow."

"That'll thrill father," Jerim said in a wry voice.

Artos looked annoyed. "Then don't tell him."

Jerim lifted a hand. "Peace, brother. I've seen enough of your hunches to prove to be spot on to just ignore them."

I learned later that it was an old quarrel between Artos and his father, Duke Grimal. The Duke felt his son, eldest son at least, was always looking up at the clouds and not paying attention to what was going on around him. Artos had a fondness for reading and doing various research projects that drove his father to distraction, who really only understood warfare, tactics, court intrigue, and how to keep a duchy running smoothly. Artos collection of books and gadgets were beyond him and the fact that Artos never felt a need to assert himself if things were running fine all added up to a baffling, incomprehensible son that worried him to no end, especially as the duchy would pass to him once he died.

Jerim made far more sense with his love of hunting and hawking, athletic prowess, and the odd bar brawl. This was not to say that Artos was not a competent fighter, he simply never felt the need to prove himself or get into unneeded scuffles.

Artos interest in me was going to become an issue. At the time, I had no clue. Perhaps if I had known I would fled rather than followed them. There again, who is to questions what the gods have done? It is not wise to speculate on such things, I have learned.