Feathered Dragon

From the chronicles of Coton:

As our numbers grow and our march proceeds towards its rendezvous with the god.

We make a colorful file now as we advance along dark forest trails. A thousand desert dwarves, new to the jungle and intrigued and mystified by its sights, smells, and sounds lead the file. With them, speaking with their chiefs and marveling at their ways, walks die legionnaire dwarf Daggrande.

In the center, we have five humans-six, to count the one carried by Erixitl. With us walks the great war-horse, Storm. The creature is a wonder to all of us Mazticans, far most of us have never seen an animal so large, and none of us have known one so useful.

And now our column is trailed by more warriors, hundreds of tiny bowmen who have sworn allegiance to Halloran because he answers the call of their prophecy. They

call it a miracle, and though I know it was his magic that “turned night into day” and caused him to be “a giant, even among the Big People,” 1 am not inclined to dispute the miraculous explanation.

Now we pass through the rolling country to the west of high, forested mountains. Though more adventures doubtless lay in our path, I cannot help but feel that our march to Payit gains unstoppable momentum.