Order Wistril Compleat Now!
"Now this," said Kern sleepily, "This is the life. Don't you agree, Sir Knobby?"
The gargoyle made a soft hooting noise of assent. Kern grinned and stretched. "I've made a decision," he said. "I may just abandon my studies arcane and take up fishing or sheep herding or something equally rugged and pastoral."
Sir Knobby fanned his wings. Kern yawned and rose.
Lake Ovinshoon lay at Kern's feet. The water was blue and calm, a barely-rippled mirror to the cloudless sky above. Snow-capped mountains peeked above the pines along the far horizon; Kern stared in awe as a dragon's shadow slid across a rocky peak, quick as a blink and gone.
Along the Lake, though, meadowlarks darted and crickets sang, but no monsters troubled the water or the wood.
"I'll have another bit of cheese," said Kern. "Will you keep an eye on the lake while I'm gone? Hoot if you see a sea monster. Hoot twice if it's heading this way. Hoot three times if it's so big you're afraid to make any noise."
Sir Knobby nodded without opening his eyes. Kern turned and headed back to the tent he'd pitched at the edge of the forest.
A stone's throw from the shore, the water rippled, heaved, and grew dark, as though a body - a long, large body - had just risen from the depths to hang just below the surface.
Sir Knobby began to snore. Kern marched for his tent, whistling.
A pair of great dark eyes rose slowly above the Lake and blinked at the high bright sun.