Birthdate!
The young dragon seethed with anger.
At first, my anger brewed, slowly giving way to a fluttering fear. If the corn and vegetable fields were truly teeming with voles, would the sinister dragon Lance really capture them to cook and roast for me?
Would he expect me to savor them, crunching each one?
No, never would I partake in such a feast, not even if the field mice were crisped to perfection.
Determined, I decided to scour the corn and vegetable patches under the cloak of night, to verify the existence of these voles myself.
Should I indeed discover any, I'd rather have them roasted for Marly to enjoy. Given his voracious appetite for meat, he surely wouldn't balk at the prospect of nibbling on some crispy, skewered field mouse.
"Do you recall the day you were born?" Lance asked tentatively.
"You could say I do. It feels like it was October 16th."