The force of the thought drove Wonse to his knees.
'Of course,' he managed.
The dragon stretched its claws luxuriantly.
Then the need is not mine, it is yours,
it thought. Now get out of my sight.
Wonse sagged as it left his mind.
The dragon slithered over the cut-price hoard, leapt up on to the ledge of one of the hall's big windows, and smashed the stained glass with its head. The multicoloured image of a city father cascaded into the other debris below.
The long neck stretched out into the early evening air, and turned like a seeking needle. Lights were coming on across the city. The sound of a million people being alive made a muted, deep thrumming.
The dragon breathed deeply, joyfully.
Then it hauled the rest of its body on to the ledge, shouldered the remains of the window's frame aside, and leapt into the sky.
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