Page 5 of The Longing

I fall to the ground to get a closer look, but it is true, there is no pizzle, just a simple slit where she pisses. I am astonished, shoving my head in as her piss doesn’t smell as bad as other piss, even mine.

With a squeak, Alice falls over backwards.

“What are you doing?” she yells at me.

“What areyoudoing?” I want to ask about her lack of pizzle, but instead I feel like I should inspect her further, to see what else she lacks, apart from the obvious—scales, wings, tail, and horns.

I lift her to her feet, the piss forgotten, and pluck at the rest of the clothing she wears. It is damp and some of it comes away in my hand.

“Stop it,” Alice says.

“Remove this,” I growl. “I need to check for…hidden weapons… before we continue.”

“Not a chance,” she responds, folding her arms over her chest.

I put my face close to hers. A Lambton Wyrm is not used to being defied, especially by little creatures like her.

“Don’t challenge me.” I shift my fangs, making them long and dangerous.

Her eyes widen, and there is a stench of fear which comes from her, although it’s swiftly followed by the sweet scent of defiance.

This female is intriguing, not least her lack of pizzle. I know she is female by the diagrams I’ve seen. And my instinct, the thing which drew me all the way from my lair, from my castle keep and my ancestral lands, tells me she is female.

“Fine.” She shrugs off the damaged outer garment and then, with a brief look around us, as if anyone would approach a Wyrm here on my hill, she pulls the second garment over her head, revealing soft, creamy skin.

Definitely scaleless.

There is another garment she wears. It crosses over her chest like a weapons holster. I rear up. I should have known better than to trust anything left in the Yeavering, anything which has a hint of Faerie about it. Nothing is what it seems.

I strike out with a claw, flicking the holster from her body.

It flies through the air, and I catch it on the end of my tail.

It is empty.

The noise of distress she makes is enough to convince me she is not what she seems at all. Even if the holster appears empty, she could have disposed of the weapons anywhere along our flight route.

“Did you think you could fool me?” I snarl at her, attempting not to show my own fear. “You cannot kill a Wyrm, if that is your intention.”

The female gasps, her arms crossed over her chest. Now her upper clothing is missing and her lower garments around her ankles, I see she has fur in a small strip around the area whereher pizzle should be, and there are lumps on her upper half which bulge over her folded arms alarmingly. Her stomach also has a strange depression. I take hold of her shoulders, twisting her away from me to search for further hidden weapons.

Her bottom is, thankfully, quite normal. Small rounded globes, pinked and rather pleasant looking. I turn her back to me, and she flails her arms, releasing the rounded globes on her front.

I stare at them. I was absolutely right—no pizzle and these additional lumps.

She is very different to a Wyrm.

I run my hand over the mounds. These could also hold weapons. There are other creatures in the Yeavering which can conceal items within their bodies, such as the Hedley Kow or the vampires. I can’t trust anything.

Everyone wants a piece of the Wyrm.

My claw sweeps over the first globe, and it feels rather nice in my hand. The strange deep pink surround in the centre rises at my touch. I pull my hand away, and the female instantly covers herself with her hands.

“Have you seen enough?” Her voice is strangely choked and her body shaking.

I snort.

“I need to know my enemy,” I respond. “And until you prove otherwise, that’s what you are. Put your garments back on.”

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