Page 39 of Morel Dilemma

That is correct. Even though I can see them from far away, the branches make it difficult to do so from above. We will have to find a promising foraging area and land to continue the search.

“Too bad. I enjoy this mode of transportation.” Rylana patted his back.

Dragons are superior to all mechanical conveyances and domesticated beasts of burden.

“I would call that statement arrogant, but I think you’re right.”

You are wise to observe that.

“I won’t mention your superiority in this area to other people, or everyone would be trying to put reins and a saddle on your kind.”

Nobody saddles a dragon.

“It’s a bit dangerous up here without any kind of harness to hang on to.”

I will not allow you to fall.

“I appreciate that. I’m still going to fantasize about a harness. Or maybe if you wore a leather jerkin, that would give a rider something to grip. Do dragons ever wear clothes?”

Though his wingbeats never faltered, Jildarin’s great silver head turned enough for him to deliver a baleful gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m being practical. A leather jerkin would be like an extra layer of armor for you. It could be beneficial to all.”

Dragons do not need extra armor. Our scales are hard and difficult for enemies to breach.

“They’re also slick and hard to hold on to.”

Sleek, perhaps. Slickness would denote a fungal disease and overall poor health.

“Nobody wants a fungal dragon.”

Correct.

“Speaking of fungi…” Careful to keep her balance on his back—he seemed to be enjoying stretching his wings and sashaying about as much as he was searching—Rylana slid her pack off her shoulders. She eased out the book she’d brought on foraging for local edibles.

That morning, she’d visited the library as soon as it opened and borrowed it. Now, they were between the breakfast and lunch services at the diner, Jildarin having left instructions on warming or grilling the sandwiches he’d prepared in case he didn’t return in time. Rylana hoped they did make it back for lunch because her mouth had started watering when he’d mentioned the offerings. The roast beef, egg salad, and smoked eel sandwiches would be good, but she’d been especially interested in trying the cheese, apple, and fig jam sandwiches he’d prepared, vegetarian offerings for the elves who’d arrived early and were working on the rooftop terrace, as Plant Master Chalora had dubbed it. That sounded fancier than referring to it as a simple outdoor seating area.

Neither Jildarin nor Rylana had mentioned the landlord’s threat of eviction when the workers had shown up. Now that Rylana knew who was behind that threat, she hoped she could resolve it. Her father was stubborn, but, surely, she could talk him out of trying to have her business booted from its home. What she would have to agree to in return, she didn’t know, and she dreaded her conversation with him.

“Morels,” she read from the chapter on mushrooms, the wind whipping at the pages, “might be spied around the bases of dead or dying elms, cottonwoods, pines, and firs, especially in disturbed environments, such as an area that suffered a burn or riverbanks where flood debris has accumulated.”

What about enchanted morels? Jildarin tilted his wings and angled for a grassy bank with enough room for landing.

“They’re not mentioned in this book, but I would guess they prefer similar environments.”

In nature, magical plants and fungi often grow near other magical objects, such as deposits of mithril ore, phosphorescent crystals, and caves and nesting areas for inherently magical beings that emanate power.

“Like the presence of dragons causing those special spices to grow in their caves?”

Precisely so.

“Have you ever made a morel grow with your emanations?”

I am unaware of them germinating in dragon caves.

“Maybe your kind should spend more time snuggled up to dead elms and cottonwoods instead of rock formations.”

Usually, dragons have no interest in enchanted morels and do not seek to encourage their growth.