I knew nothing of the kingdom or the empire around us as we were focused on survival and above all stabilising our way of life.

So with the little contact we had with the human race, I hoped to gain time and save our little tribe from suffering and misfortune.

It was small but also huge from a human point of view.

And I had no idea of the intrigues that were going on right now that would affect us so much.

Nobody could have predicted it and it was a puzzle. I was still the "Professor, in memory, but I had not escaped reincarnation. I had not been "Summoned" but perhaps I was wrong. One certainty was that I had come out of an Egg and that Mummy Wyvern had nurtured, loved, fed and protected me.

Even if they were to remain animals or semi-conscious or conscious beings, it did not change the fact that I had to protect them.

It was another life for me. And... I didn't regret anything about the old one.

Everything I had been deprived of, the tribe gave back to me a hundredfold and they were worth all the gold in the world.

I adored my brother and my two sisters above all else, without preference, and they followed me and copied me all the time, and that made them really grow into nice little people.

Blanche also followed me like her big brother. We were "cousins" but when the heat came on, I don't think I'd have any problem with us having fun. And there was no shortage of candidates.

It was also a game of flirting and licking and it was fun.

I could say that I was happy and that these were certainly my best years. I prayed to fate that it would continue.

The goods were then sorted and carefully protected by wooden crates and everything was collected.

Mum and Dad set up the forge for me in a cave by the river because the ore was heavy and if later humans had to unload it without us, it would be easier.

And the wounded wyvern craftsmen could also take advantage of the anvil and the furnace I was building.

Meanwhile Kroa, Krii and Kraa were busy putting away the barrels of wort and setting up the shelves and cupboards in which they would store the horn and wooden wyvern-sized cups.

There was also a trickle of water running through, which would be used to clean but also to dilute the wort, which was highly concentrated and in a sense dangerous if the wyverns sank into the alcohol.

Torch holders were installed and a sort of table was set up in the immense cavern.

A fire pit was installed to kill animal odours and a nest used as a room with hay gave a vaguely tavern-like feel. There was an idea. It started out as a game, then after a well-deserved round of drinks for everyone, the tavern started to become a trading and bartering centre, a bit like a guild.

The wyverns were to bring skins, gems, tusks that would be used to barter and replenish the small tavern.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

At first it was a game, but soon it became a strategic place for the wyverns to rest and chat with their comrades.

While Mum and Dad tidied up the anvil and put the blocks for the stove according to a simple plan drawn on a skin with an ash pencil, I went to see "DOC", the wyvern who looked after the medicinal plants.

A chest was laid out with everything she needed:

Pestles, working marble alcohol disinfectant, mercurochrome, and thread and needle kits, bandages and bags of magistral preparations to make ointments, salves and a book with drawings of plants, their properties, and the proportions to make medicines and preparations. Obviously, we couldn't read them but that was for later.

There were also the precious tweezers and scalpel knives and a box of empty glass vials with the stoppers.

I spent three days explaining the basics of wound hygiene and nursing.

Pharmacopoeia would come later when he had mastered the basics.

Then grandma was called and it was the day of her "operation".

There were two other rooms cleaned with a flame and hay for one or two wyverns to rest after care.

I opened some ether and immediately the nostrils closed and the two wyverns grunted.

"Yes, it will hurt but I will limit the pain! Cheer up Grandma!"

I had insisted that "Doc", get as clean as possible, especially his talons.

Dad was watching from a distance, at the entrance, next to Mom and Kroa was helping me bring the bandages and the brazier to put the needles in the flame

I took a syringe with an opiate preparation, a kind of local anaesthetic, and pricked several places on the membrane skin and at the cyst that prevented her from extending her wing arm.

She had a log between her teeth and the venom was oozing out

Kra was collecting the poison that could later be used as an antidote.

Grandmother relaxed after having had a few doses of concentrated alcohol and she had been tied up with ropes and rings provided.

Then the torn edge of the two membranes was cut to bleed and she moaned a little. The pain must have been terrible, even with the anaesthetic. Then I gently started to sew the 2 skins together with a knot that could go.

We put a hard annealed leather funnel on her like for dogs so she wouldn't lick herself again and cause complications.

When it was finished, the suture was still 3 metres long and she cried when I applied the mercurochrome.

These ingredients, easy for me to produce, were an unheard of luxury but I had paid a fortune for them. Luckily they were griffin beaks and extremely expensive products that I had sold by actually being ripped off, but that was the price of establishing a link with the human race other than hunter-prey.

Then she calmed down and cried again as I approached with the scalpel.

"You are brave. You'll see... you'll be back. This is just a bad moment to pass and I stroked her and licked her behind the horns, a very symbolic gesture for our species. Family recognition.

Then Kra started to roll around on the floor, whining, and everyone's attention was focused on my little sister.

I took the opportunity to stick the knife in the grease ball and Grandma screamed in surprise more than in pain.

Kra had played it well.

To be a perfect barber you would need a musician to drown out the screams...

But Grandma kept her pride and kept quiet, except that she was shaking with pain and sweating as a result.

Dad came along and licked her head and stroked Grandma's weeping head with his cheek.

I pushed in the long-nosed pliers and found the spear point and it was extracted.

Then I scraped off the cyst and proceeded to sew up the skins while injecting an arnica-based healing paste.

I then painted ultra-fine silver powder paint on the sutured wound to prevent infection.

Everyone hissed when they saw that one of the wyverns had been "repaired".

Grandma went to rest in the planned cave and a meal of dried meat was on the menu but with some vegetables and fibre to speed up the healing.

Dad looked at me. "Thank you Mir..."

"She'll be healed by tomorrow... and with a little training, she'll be back for the good times and... maybe you will have a little brother."

He smiled at me.

The fertility was exceptional this year but it was slow and not always obvious.

The wyverns instinctively bred when they felt the game would be large.

Doc had learned well and it was his turn too...

He had a limp and found it difficult to fly and even more difficult to land on one leg.

It was normal, he had a piece of spear in his paw.

We proceeded in the same way and I removed the point.

He was less brave than Grandma, but he kept quiet when she looked at him.

Yes, there might be a brood between these two one day...