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"
You
’
re
scraping
dragon
off
the
scenery
,
"
said
Lady
Ramkin
cheerfully
.
"
I
’
m
afraid
they
’
re
not
very
well
-
designed
creatures
,
dragons
.
"
Vimes
listened
.
They
would
never
have
survived
at
all
except
that
their
home
swamps
were
isolated
and
short
of
predators
.
Not
that
a
dragon
made
good
eating
,
anyway
-
once
you
’
d
taken
away
the
leathery
skin
and
the
enormous
flight
muscles
,
what
was
left
must
have
been
like
biting
into
a
badly
-
run
chemical
factory
.
No
wonder
dragons
were
always
ill
.
They
relied
on
permanent
stomach
trouble
for
supplies
of
fuel
.
Most
of
their
brain
power
was
taken
up
with
controlling
the
complexities
of
then
-
digestion
,
which
could
distill
flame
-
producing
fuels
from
the
most
unlikely
ingredients
.
They
could
even
rearrange
their
internal
plumbing
overnight
to
deal
with
difficult
processes
.
They
lived
on
a
chemical
knife
-
edge
the
whole
time
.
One
misplaced
hiccup
and
they
were
geography
.
And
when
it
came
to
choosing
nesting
sites
,
the
females
had
all
the
common
sense
and
mothering
instinct
of
a
brick
.
Vimes
wondered
why
people
had
been
so
worried
about
dragons
in
the
olden
days
.
If
there
was
one
in
a
cave
near
you
,
all
you
had
to
do
was
wait
until
it
self
-
ignited
,
blew
itself
up
,
or
died
of
acute
indigestion
.
"
You
’
ve
really
studied
them
,
haven
’
t
you
,
"
he
said
.
"
Someone
ought
to
.
"
"
But
what
about
the
big
ones
?
"
"
Golly
,
yes
.
They
’
re
a
great
mystery
,
you
know
,
"
she
said
,
her
expression
becoming
extremely
serious
.
"
Yes
,
you
said
.
"
