And the green dragon fell like a spring leaf, yellow-tinged around the edges, but life-green in the center. My bow, Malax, spoke, and the green dragon’s mighty hand was played. It thudded to the cavern floor, leaking lung fluid. In nature, far away from the conceits of mankind, there is peace and balance in the order of things, yet when life is played like so many cards to the shuffle, there’s a lack gravity to these affairs.
Take Edwin for example. I could skewer him with Malax before his voice could sling even on spell. I the second, in the hip, would be a crippling blow, and then I would upon with with my long knife, scalping what was left of his dignity. And his skull would eventually bleach in the sun, and his tongue would grow spotty before it would be yanked out by birds, kites, ravens.
These are the things we give up our dignity for: ignorance.
