"Consider the facts," I continue. "She voluntarily abandoned a tribe that desperately wanted her. She follows a dragon through a jungle full of predators. She asks endless questions and repeatedly places herself near me despite understanding perfectly well that I could kill her at any moment."
The Plood tilts its head.
I nod. "Indeed it’s strange. Very strange, in fact. Even Cora had the sense to stay away from me as much as she could." I find myself becoming increasingly confident in this discussion. "Then there is the matter of the kiss."
The Plood's eyes somehow become even larger.
"I can see that you recognize the problem." I glance toward Morgan again and the memory resurfaces immediately. The cleaning of my hands, the gratitude, the cool touch of her fingers, and the gentle movements.
And then the kiss.
I scowl. "That’s not the behavior I would expect from a servant to a dragon. No, a servant should cower, and kneel, and hurry to obey, and constantly beg for more tasks. Your kind is a good example of appropriate conduct. Well, not you specifically, of course. You have something wrong with you. Or you are already the servant of someone else. Is it Praxigor you spy for?"
The Plood just stares, which I take as a clear admission.
I point a claw at it. "Ah. I thought so. Well, he can spy on me as much as he wants. I will still find his hoard and then kill him. You may tell him as much."
The creature looks from me to Morgan and back again. Its expression changes somehow. I have no idea how a Plood manages facial expressions with so little face, but this one clearly does.
"I see," I say slowly. "She may be in cahoots with him, too."
The Plood's eyes somehow become even wider.
"I knew it," I say. "The two of you are working together."
I nod toward Morgan. "Look at her. She abandons safety, follows me into the jungle, survives repeated attempts by the local wildlife to consume her, and then kisses me. No sane explanation exists."
I settle more comfortably against the tree. The jungle around us remains loud and unpleasant, but for the moment nothing appears interested in approaching the camp. The predators have learned their lesson. The armored beast has learned its lesson. Perhaps the entire planet is finally beginning to learn.
"I have considered several possibilities. At first I suspected magic. Females often resort to strange methods when ordinary methods fail. Many of them know magic well and use it with great cunning. Though I haven’t yet caught Morgan muttering spells or mixing potions. Then I considered madness. That explanation still has merit. Yet neither theory fully accounts for her behavior."
The little creature blinks.
I nod slowly. "You’re right, little defective product. Gold."
The Plood tilts its head.
"Ha! You admit it." I gesture toward Morgan's sleeping form. "Everything eventually leads back to gold. It is the central fact of existence. The most beautiful substance in creation. The source of power, comfort, status, purpose and happiness. If Morgan is acting strangely, then gold must be involved."
The Plood picks up a leaf and holds it out to Morgan.
"Yes, yes," I snap. “I already have your confession. There’s no need to explain further.” I become increasingly satisfied with my own reasoning. "She knows something. She must. Perhaps shedoesknow where Praxigor keeps his hoard. Perhaps she believes I can reach it. Perhaps she hopes to obtain some of it for herself."
The Plood puts the golden leaf at Morgan’s feet.
"Granted,” I go on, “that last part seems unlikely. It is well known in ancient lore that humans rarely demonstrate proper appreciation for gold. Desire, yes. Admiration, sometimes. Still, she might be unusual in that regard. Perhaps she is more enlightened than the rest of her kind."
I glance toward the sleeping female again. Moonlight filters through the canopy and catches in her hair.
A remarkably strange female. Even now she appears completely relaxed, to the point where she enters that mild unconsciousness during which she’s entirely at the mercy of anyone around her. "She’s clearly attempting to gain my trust. Once I discover her objective, everything will make sense."
The creature waddles to the edge of the clearing and picks up more leaves.
I point at it. "I advise you and Praxigor not to underestimate me. I am extremely difficult to deceive. And when I gain my strength back, you shall both discover why I’m called Vyrathion the Wild!”
The Plood goes over to Morgan and puts the leaves with the other one, arranging them carefully.
The female shifts in her sleep. One hand moves slightly across the ground until it comes to rest near where I sit. Her expression softens into something unexpectedly peaceful.
