The next day brought great excitement. The wyvern warning horns sounded from both of the enclosed watch stations. Prince Willam's ballistae crews outdid themselves. The wyvern, one of the two adolescents, was caught in all three fowling nets. I got out the door and onto the Wiffleblatt Green just in time to see the creature become so entangled that it dropped out of the sky and onto the ground. Its neck was twisted as it fell head first, and so it died instantly on impact from a broken neck. At least it was fast and painless, even if it was a monster. I did not want to see even a wyvern poked to death with long spears, though I knew we might not have a choice on how they die. Die they must.

Alternatively, I lost another opportunity to try to talk to a wyvern to see if my theory of their intelligence was correct. The humans had a policy of hiding the carcasses before removing the valuable wyvern skin and burning the rest. All the two-footed races refuse to consume wyvern flesh, which has an overpowering metallic taste. Hiding the carcasses was to conceal the location of the ballistae trap from the remaining wyverns.

Cat was awake but groggy that evening. He was energetic enough to test Cloud Eye's repairs to his fake leg. Over dinner, Wren did a hysterical rendition of the conversation regarding love poetry. She tried to solicit the same horrified reaction out of Cat as Willam and Sven displayed two evenings before, but with no luck.

"Well, yes, it was tiresome that Sophie was in love with love poetry. I could not fault her for it. The fate of a princess in a human kingdom is to be a pawn in the game of dynastic politics. Sophie knew she would marry the man who would bring the kingdom the most political advantage. To ridicule her hopes that she might also find love struck me as cruel."

"Willam said you called her love poetry sticky," Wren accused Cat with an evil grin.

"Never to her face, Wren," Cat assumed a slightly chiding tone. "I called it sticky because it reminded me of sugar syrup."

"So, you say it was cruel to ridicule your sister for her love of soppy poetry, but yet, you did just so by calling it sticky," Wren thought she had a winning argument.

"Not so, Wren," Cat sounded like an old man passing judgment. "To call those poems sticky is merely my opinion of the poems she liked, but that does not negate that she loved those poems. I can defend my own opinion without attacking hers."

"I know there's something wrong with your reasoning somewhere, but I can't figure it out at the moment," Wren crossed her arms and scowled. She hated losing any argument with Cat. "You're too clever with words. It's not fair."

Cat laughed, "Why must it be fair, Wren? Very little in life is fair." He then put on a serious expression: "If I am ever a king, I will not subject any daughter of mine to a dynastic wedding if she disapproves of the groom." The serious face turned gloomy: "It's been a little more than five years since my sister Sophie died, and I miss her still."

He sounded so sad that I rubbed up against his good right leg and made big cat eyes at him as I rested my snout on his thigh.

Life, indeed, was not fair. The next day, two wyverns came to attack the people they could see on Wiffleblatt Green. Prince Willam's ballistae crews were adapt to their trade. Both wyverns were caught in the nets and brought down.

As Cat and I approached the netted wyverns, I mind-talked to the Nordvekkians. *Do not attack them unless they look like they can escape. I want to see if I can talk with them.*

"Why, Lady Fuzzy?" Duke Sven asked.

*Red and blue wyverns do not eat two-footed prey. They will attack only if attacked first. When they do attack, they will lift a two-footed sapient up and then drop it from a height to kill it. This suggests they are intelligent creatures capable of revenge. I want to verify this. It might be possible to negotiate a peaceful truce.*

"I will deploy my spearmen," Prince Willam interjected, joining his uncle, "but for now, I will refrain from giving them the command to attack."

*Thank you, Prince.*

I padded up to the head of the adult wyvern. It watched me with suspicion as I sat back on my hunches next to it.

*Can you understand me, wyvern?*

Its eyes widened;* You are not a wyvern. How can you speak to me?* I could feel its hostility.

*I am a magical creature just like you are. All magical creatures like divine beasts such as myself, dragons, wyverns, salamanders, trolls, and selkies can all mind talk with one another, or so I have been led to believe.*

*Talk did wyverns no good when the dragons invaded and drove us from our home. Then the little green people attacked us, even though all we did was hunt. For this, they and their allies must die, or more of the farming peoples will attack us.*

*It does not need to be this way.* I hoped I sounded convincing. *You attacked the animals they raised for their own food. What looked like hunting to you was an attack on their food for them. You could live in peace if you did not attack their livestock.*

*The two-footeds killed my child. They killed the mother of my child. They killed my nest sister last year. I can not live in the same place as the killers of my family. There can be no negotiation with those who hunt us. This can only end with our killing you or you killing us. It is either revenge or it is death. There is no middle way to fly. So quit your annoyance and kill me already, or I will kill you.*

*Father, I do not want to die,* cried the adolescent wyvern caught in one of the fowler nets. *If we can live in peace, then isn’t life better? There is no harm in trying to find a middle way to fly. The worst that can happen is that this creature's words are a lie. Then we are back to where we are now. But if he does not lie, then we might find a way to live in peace.*

*You are a fool, child, to think these creatures have honor. I refuse. Without my family, I have no reason to live other than revenge. Kill me, beast, and be done with it. I weary of the struggle.*

*Young wyvern, I will give you five minutes to convince your father that there can be a better way forward for all the races involved. Today you have a chance to communicate with the two-footed farming races through a divine beast who can speak to both you and them. This chance may never come again. You stole their food beasts because you did not know it was an offense. This was because you could not speak to them. They attacked you because they must protect their food beasts or starve. They did not know you thought you were merely hunting instead of stealing. When they saw you attack them for revenge, they fought back to defend themselves. This was because they could not speak to you. I find it tragic that either intelligent race must die because you can't talk to one another. I will return in five minutes. Your fate is now in your hands or wings or talons, or whatever.*

I turned on my heels and walked over to where the round ear soldiers had set up camp chairs for the Prince, Duke, Hobgoblin Colonel, and Cat Rider. I got down on all fours and put my head on the ground because I found my conversation with the wyverns tiring.

*My theory is correct. They are quite intelligent. They see any four-footed livestock as prey to hunt. They did not understand that farmers will fight to protect their flocks. When people defend their flocks, they interpreted that as an attack for no reason and attack back. If they can understand the concept of livestock, you and they can live in peace if they refrain from hunting your farm animals.*

"So what now?" Cat asked.

*The father is stubborn and insists on revenge or death. The adolescent, who I think is a he, is open to negotiation. I have given the adolescent wyvern five minutes to change his father's 'we-die-or-you-die' attitude. If he succeeds, we negotiate. If he fails, we kill the father and negotiate.*

In the back of my mind, I could hear the father and son arguing. The father was stubborn, and the son was desperate and pleading. It was depressing. I tried my best to block it out.

"It's been five minutes, Fuzzy," my boy said.

*Come with me. If the father chooses to die, I'd like to ask you to do the spell. Otherwise, the round ears will spear him to death, which I find cruel since we have a painless alternative.*

"Why not you, Fuzz? I cast the last one. It is your turn, isn't it?"

*Because unless we can rustle up some trolls, I'm the only one the wyverns can talk to. Maybe you could apply your magical genius brain to craft a spell allowing a non-magical creature to speak with a magical beast like a wyvern.*

"Hmmm," Cat got up. We walked together at his pace through Willam's troopers, who had both wyverns surrounded with three-yard spears. I heard the argument between father and son stop when Cat and I stopped near the father's head.

*Who is this?* the father demanded of me.

*This is my partner, who is a mage like me. If you choose death, he will cast a spell, and you die instantly without pain.*

*These two-footed soldiers will not stab me to death? Then why are they here?*

*As a precaution. You are both so much larger and stronger than any of us; being prepared is prudent in case you were trying to trick us.*

The father wyvern was silent in thought. Then he studied me. *Spells take a toll upon the caster, and this boy is weak. Mages are rare and precious, and soldiers are cheap. Why use a spell when you have soldiers?*

*Because we do not wish to be cruel.*

*I do not understand. Explain this.*

*We could have avoided all this death and destruction if we understood each other. By your standards, you did nothing wrong. Because you chose death rather than finding a way to live with us, we choose to make that death as painless and quick as possible. Making you suffer would be wrong. It would cause us more distress.*

*More distress?*

*It is distressing that you would choose to die rather than try to work with us. My partner and I abide by the elven principle of mutual coexistence for the sapient races.*

*This is goblin territory, that boy smells like a human, and you are no elf.* It was the first thing he had said to me that wasn't cast in hostile feelings.

I was amused. *Yes, I noticed several years ago that I was not an elf. My partner was born human, but he is the adopted son of the King of the Green Elves. We have lived with the elves for many years. In our party of adventurers, we have the blood son and daughter of the Elven King; another adopted son of the King, and the King's cousin. I'm sure you can see the folks sitting and watching us. The hobgoblin is the Colonel of the army forces sent to protect the goblins of the local villages and towns from your family. The two humans are a Prince and a Duke of the human kingdom to the east. We are all working together to address the problem presented by your family.*

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

*How is it possible for elves, goblins, and humans to work together? None of you get along.*

*But we do, and we have. It is not always easy, and, indeed, we often fight. But most two-footed races agree that peace between us is always better. At times like this, we can indeed overlook our differences and work together.*

*Then, I would be a fool not to do what you suggested, trying to live together. My son was wiser than I was. I will heed his advice since the worst is that we would die anyway, but the best would mean a new home among beings willing to work with us.*

*Father!* a happy adolescent wyvern shouted.

*Peace, my son. Divine beast, we have an immediate problem. We are hungry and have eaten hardly anything for several days. All the animals we were hunting have disappeared. I think now that maybe they were this livestock you mentioned. We also must stay in this place. We have an injured daughter in our nest and must hunt for her since she can't fly. If her wing does not improve, she will die eventually because she can not hunt for herself.*

*If you will work with us,* I told him, *we can arrange food for your family, and my partner and I will help you with healing spells.* Oh dear, I think I just made a whole lot of work for myself. I bumped my boy's good leg to get his attention;* We really need a spell so these folks can talk to our folks. You need to start working on that.*

"What?" He looked from me to the wyverns and back. "They will work with us? We don't have to kill one or both? What a relief!" He smiled at the father wyvern, waved, and went back to sit down and convey the news to the others.

*I do not understand the gestures he just made,* the father wyvern remarked.

*He is happy that he did not need to kill you. He waved as he left because that was polite, especially since you couldn't understand his speech.*

*I see we have much to learn about two-footed life. Now, can I get this net off of me? I need to find some food for my daughter.*

So many amazing things happened afterward that it still makes my head spin. The best was riding on the back of a wyvern into the heights of death. I had to cast warmth, fresh air, and sticky paws on myself, all of which will slowly drain one's magic, but the view while flying left me wanting my own set of wings.

As the father wyvern flew me to his nest to heal his daughter, we discussed many things.

*Tell me about the dragons.* I wanted to know more about the wyverns losing their home.

*The red wyverns lived in the Bog Forest, two days of flying south of here. Five years ago, many dragons came and pushed us out of our homes. The dragons were not as numerous as we wyverns, but they were more powerful, and we could not defeat them. Most red wyverns left the Bog Forest to find places with enough game to hunt.*

*Why here? I thought wyverns liked forests along rivers where the leaves turn colors and then drop off.*

*This is the third place we have made a nest since the dragons drove us off. We found game to eat here though this place is a bit cold for us. I do not like all these evergreen trees. They hide the animals we like to hunt. The trees of our home were spaced out so we could spot deer, elk, or moose as they grazed or approached a river or stream to drink.*

*There is a forest where the conifers are spaced out between mountain ranges,* I told him. *It is to the east and just a bit north of here. The southern half is inhabited by goblins, but the northern half is empty of the two-footed peoples. Elves go there to hunt sometimes, and there are friendly trolls. Trolls can speak to the two-footeds and also to magical creatures like us. I have hunted deer there. Keep it in mind because it might work for you though it is frigid in the winter.*

Father wyvern took me to see his injured daughter. Just as the snow started melting, the daughter was caught in something called wind shear. She lost control and broke the big bone that holds the wing up. The wyvern family built a nest around her and made that nest their new home. The nest was made of fir trees ripped from the ground and piled in a large circle on a mountain ledge. Inside the circle of dead trees were pine branches and ripped-up grasses to create a soft and warm floor.

The first thing the wyvern told his daughter was that I was not food. The two sheep he brought were food for her. After she had eaten, I inspected the injury. The bone started to mend with a displacement across the break. I had to rebreak the fracture to set it correctly. It took me most of the day, but I did heal her. I wanted her to rest for a few days before using that wing, but I might as well have told her not to breathe instead. We flew back to Wiffleblatt just before the sunset.

*I was not sure of you before this, but now I believe all of what you claimed, divine beast.*

*Yes, I knew you were still wary. Trust is hard at the end of any war. I am curious, what changed your mind to give us a chance?*

*Because you insisted on a kind death even though the cruel death was easier. And my son was correct: we have very little left to lose. Why not take the gamble?*

*You realize that you may need to move again?*

*I would move anyway. This is now the place where my child and his mother died. We need to find a new place to go. Living with the two-footed races may be what we must do, at least for now. I am inclined to follow where you might go since you can talk to the two-footeds. We must be able to communicate with them for this to work. Perhaps your partner will be able to make a spell that works. I am reluctant to lose you as someone who can speak to both sides.*

The wyverns chose to sleep on the peaked roof of the cheese factory. It was a strange thing to look at, these huge hunting fliers balanced on their talons with their massive snouts full of sharp fangs tucked under one wing as they slept.

I dragged my tired self into the grammar school building and flopped onto Cat Rider's mattress. Using that much healing magic wore me out. I had closed my eyes and was falling asleep when Wren yanked my tail to get me up.

*Hey! I wish you would stop doing that, Wren. That hurts.*

"Everyone wants a report on the wyverns, Fuzz Butt." Wren looked pleased with the opportunity to torture me again. "They are waiting for you in the meeting hall."

There wasn't much more to say at the meeting. I updated folks on wyvern eyesight because the Compendium wasn't quite right: wyverns are farsighted. Their vision makes everything look blurry if it's under 20 yards away, but they can see prey just fine from far off. I also shared the intelligence that they don't use names. Father wyvern was "father," and the surviving kids were "second son" and "first daughter."

"How many wyverns lost their home, and how many dragons displaced them?" Willam wanted to know. "This explains why we've seen red wyverns where they have never lived before."

*I can't answer that question, and the wyverns can't tell us. Wyverns don't count higher than eight. Once they hit eight, the next two numbers are 'more than eight' and 'many more than eight.' Wyverns do not need to count, so their simple numbers meet their needs.*

I enjoyed everyone's shocked looks when I told them that. On the other paw, I received my own shock. The Colonel told me that Lady Magrat and Generalissimo Gargle would arrive tomorrow evening to negotiate with the wyverns.

----------------------------------------

Cat Rider spent most of the day trying different spells with the wyverns. The afternoon was growing late when he got a funny look on his face, "I wonder."

He muttered words in the old language. Then he looked at father wyvern. *Can you hear me?*

*I can.*

"Did the wyvern say anything, Fuzzy?"

*He said he could hear you.*

"Alright, let's see if it works backward," he began chanting again. "Μοθερ Γοδδεσσ, jου δε τινζεν φαν διζζε μαγσκε ερν jυκκεν ὀμ τροχ ἐλκενιεν τε εἁρρεν!"

*Father wyvern, please say something to me.* Cat looked hopeful.

*I can still hear you.*

*I just heard you!* Cat's thoughts were smiling. *It worked. Wyvern and mage can mind talk. Now, I need to try one last thing. Do you see anyone loitering, Fuzzy?*

*Your brother looks like he's socializing with his troops. Should I fetch him?*

Cat nodded.

*Why do you need another person?* Second Son asked.

As I walked away, I heard Cat's reply: *I want to see if this will work for someone who is not a mage.*

Since I was retrieving Willam, I decided to sneak up on him. I got as far as three yards away when the eyes of his men focused on me with concern. The movement of their eyes gave me away. Willam turned around and saw me crouched in the grass to stalk him.

"Do I look that tasty to you, Lady Fuzzy?"

*I've been off my feed lately. A little round ear protein might help.* I sat up on my haunches.

"So, what are you after this time, Fuzzy?" He gave me a look of long-suffering patience.

*You didn't look busy, and Cat Rider has a spell he wants to try.*

"Oh, not you don't," he started to back away, looking to either side for the best retreat. "I do not want to be the victim of a new spell. With my luck, I would have pink hair and a purple face for a month."

*Do not make me stalk you for real, Prince Willam. You don't stand a chance against me.*

Willam sighed, "What's the spell, Lady Fuzzy?"

*Want to talk with the wyverns?*

"Cat found a spell that works?"

I nodded yes;* Shall we?* I motioned with my paw. *He wants to try the spell on someone who is not a mage.*

Willam traded his first words with the three wyverns when Duke Sven showed up.

"I heard someone made a breakthrough in mind-talking," the Duke's face said he wanted to try too. "Was it difficult, nephew?"

"The solution was so simple that I overlooked it," Cat shrugged. "All I needed to do was alter the mind-talking spell to cast it on someone else. Fuzzy volunteered Willam as my test subject."

"Surely, you need to replicate your results to be sure it really works," Sven grinned. "I'm volunteering."

Everyone was still talking with the wyverns when Magrat's one-horse cart arrived. She was in her black examiner's office robe, and Generalissimo Gargle was in his fancy chain mail. She saw us on the green and drove straight to us without slowing down. She got out to talk while Gargle hobbled the horse.

"Out of all the possible endings to our wyvern problem, I never imagined it would end this way," Magrat looked up at the wyverns with wonder. "I drove through the night to get here as fast as possible. I want to sleep before I speak with them. But it appears all three races are mind-talking with the wyverns. How is this even possible?"

"I modified some spells for mind-talking," Cat explained. "The trick is to cast a properly customized spell on both sides of a conversation, one for each person who wants to talk. But I worry this might not work in Gorgurak because goblin magic doesn't work on living beings. You will need a human or elvish mage to cast the spells."

"We can worry about those details tomorrow, Cat Rider. For now, I need someone to point me toward a bed."

Colonel Tak, wearing a haubergeon, appeared from out of nowhere, "I can take care of that, ma'am. I have rooms for both you and the Generalissimo. Might I carry your luggage?"

In the morning, after breakfast but before she started negotiations with the wyverns, Magrat visited Cat in our room at the grammar school. She had a small cloth bag with something inside wrapped in silk.

"My sister thought you might have a use for this," she handed him the bag.

He almost dropped it because it weighed more than it looked. He stuck his hand inside and tugged on the silk.

"Oooooooooooooooooh!" Cat looked like a little boy in a candy shop. "I can't accept this," he looked up with longing written on his face. "This is far too grand for me."

"Your eyes are saying otherwise," Magrat smiled in her usual calm and friendly way. "This is from the Queen of Gorgurak, youngster. Rulers have a duty to gift people with the things they need but can not acquire for themselves. Rulers also can take it the wrong way when their gifts are turned down."

I bumped Cat's knee gently. *Now, nod your head with gratitude and ask the minister to convey your thanks to Queen Margo.*

Cat swallowed, "This is a wonderful gift. Please convey my thanks to the Queen."

Magrat was amused, "I will certainly do so."

*Well, what is it? What is it? Let me see!* I could smell the magic from where I was standing.

"Gee, I don't know, Fuzz," he grinned, "I might never get it back if you got your paws on this."

*I know where you sleep, young man.*

He reached into the bag and pulled the object out so I could see. It was a perfect crystal ball.

*Can I play with it? PLEEEEEEEEEZE!* I made my very best big cat eyes at him.

"I get to play with it first," he pronounced, "but now we need to cast some mind talk spells."