The dragon falls to sleep, his mind drifting, falling deeper, he remembered a prize being thrown into the air, a young man was there,

Saw her draping hair, and he elevated,

Called big red, saw the prize, and said hi, anyways, this guy, receives a bag of gold to sponsor him, and an emerald ring to offer.

Little Amber throws her hair back, little Green offers a flower, and the ring.

At their wedding, little red asks how much she was worth, she would tell her big brother later,

Big green frowned, ‘little Sister go home,’ he says.

The dragon opens an eye lid, and lifts his hind legs, and squeeze, and squeeze, and pop, out came an emerald mug.

The dragon raises an eye. “Would go well with wine,” he says.

The mountain merchant Kublah Kahn looks at the mug. “Say, dragon, how much for the mug?” He asks.

“Four thousand six hundred gold. Comes with free wine.” He says.

Kublah Kahn frowns, “Free wine?” He asks.

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“Yes, from the Savannah’s, called Queen Grapes, from a simpler time, it’s the Tribesmen Treasure.” He says.

Kubhah Kahn frowns. “I'll pay four thousand.” He says.

The dragon smiles. “Thank you,” He says, blowing his wings, a whisper of air picks up the emerald mug and the wine skin.

Kublah Kahn looks at the wine skin in his hands and the emerald mug, “I’ll drink from this later.” He says, raising the wine to the dragon.

The dragon smiles. “Call me over, we’ll both have a cup.” He says, his eyelids closing.

…

………

…

The druid enchantress looks at the dreadful beast in front of her, “Hey, old man.” She says.

The dragon takes a peak. “Oh, hello little girl.” He says.

“I’m looking for something holy, something to take back to my family, and don’t call your dirty wine holy.” The druid enchantress says.

The dragon quickly rummages through his treasure pile with his tail. “Something holy, something holy, hmm. Well, you’ve caught me in a dilemma, we’re fresh out of holy at the moment, we sold the last of our stuff to the holy maiden.” He says.

“Nothing holy? What kind of treasure pile is this? Do you at least have god artifacts?” The enchantress asks.

The big lizard frowns, “There is something, from long ago, but I not dare to give it to you. What would you trade for a god artifact?” He asks.

“I have a forbidden fruit for sale, crafted by the alchemists of Nahir, it’s sure to provide the maximum effect.” The little enchantress says.

The dragon scoffs, puffing out a cloud of smoke, “Maximum effect? I doubt it. What about your staff? How much?” He asks.

“My staff? Crafted by the Spring Seed, Blessed by the Old Gods, anointed by the Holy Path, and dipped into the Pool of Eternal Comfort. You couldn’t afford it, Old man.” She says.

The Dragon frowns. “What was your name?” He asks.

“Celine,” She says.

“Celine, for your forbidden fruit, I shall offer you the shed blood of Aros the War God. What do you say?” The old dragon says.

Celine frowns. “Does he love me?” She asks.

The dragon shakes its head, letting out a puff of smoke, “Of course he loves you dear.” The dragon says.

“Say, Dragon, what’s your name?” She asks.

The dragon smiles. “Jecember, the Winter Fruit.” He says, amused.

The enchantress smiles. “Are you for sale?” She asks, amused.

The dragon laughs. “If you ask the right questions.” He says, swinging his tail. “A small glass bottle filled with blood. God Blood, if you will.” He says.

The enchantress looks at the glass bottle and sighs. She throws it into the treasure pile. “Not enough.” She says, walking away to look at other treasure.

The dragon huffs a cloud of smoke in disappointment.