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.
.
.
angry
.
It
could
remember
the
feel
of
real
air
under
its
wings
,
and
the
sheer
pleasure
of
the
flame
.
There
had
been
empty
skies
above
and
an
interesting
world
below
,
full
of
strange
running
creatures
.
Existence
had
a
different
texture
there
.
A
better
texture
.
And
just
when
it
was
beginning
to
enjoy
it
,
it
had
been
crippled
,
stopped
from
flaming
and
whipped
back
,
like
some
hairy
canine
mammal
.
The
world
had
been
taken
away
from
it
.
In
the
reptilian
synapses
of
the
dragon
’
s
mind
the
suggestion
was
kindled
that
,
just
possibly
,
it
could
get
the
world
back
.
It
had
been
summoned
,
and
disdainfully
banished
again
.
But
perhaps
there
was
a
trail
,
a
scent
,
a
thread
which
would
lead
it
to
the
sky
.
.
.
Perhaps
there
was
a
pathway
of
thought
itself
.
.
.
It
recalled
a
mind
.
The
peevish
voice
,
so
full
of
its
own
diminutive
importance
,
a
mind
almost
like
that
of
a
dragon
,
but
on
a
tiny
,
tiny
scale
.
Aha
.
It
stretched
its
wings
.
Lady
Ramkin
made
herself
a
cup
of
cocoa
and
listened
to
the
rain
gurgling
in
the
pipes
outside
.
