Dertharion landed beside the carcass, and began to eat. With every mouthful, he felt renewed. While it was not a necessity for a dragon to eat daily, their large, powerful bodies required a fair amount of fuel to keep at peak condition. He shot a glance at the patient Plaguehide. So why then did Zendrayus not eat? Was his body so deteriorated that he no longer could process protein? The Green grimaced. Although his decaying travelling companion had saved his life, he couldn't help but feel revulsion towards him. Dertharion was not the most grateful dragon, though.

His conscience prodded him, bringing images of the Charred to mind. The Blacks had brought him in- saved his life for nothing. Yet he'd betrayed them without a second thought. Ungrateful, indeed.

Shut up! he thought to himself, trying to shove the burning guilt down. They...they were lying to me! They were going to betray me if I didn't get them first! 

But he knew very well that it was he who was lying to himself. 

He glanced up from his feast and caught Zendrayus looking away. A glimmer of knowledge was submerged in the depths of the White's pinkish eyes, and the Poisonhide felt sick. How much did Zendrayus know? Come to think of it, why had the White been traversing the desert anyway? Well, he was a servant of Saliss. 

    The Green spat fur out, thinking. Dertharion was vaguely aware of the fact that the Charred had wanted to stay hidden, and he remembered hearing news that a dragon called Ebony had committed an act of treason. Saliss clearly was pursuing revenge against Ebony, and Zendrayus was the implement of that revenge. 

So are you, his conscience said. You are giving Saliss that ember, and you know he will ask you where you found it. You are sending Ebony and his clan to their doom for filthy lucre. 

Shut up! he raged. Shut up! Why won't you let me ever become someone powerful??

Doing the right thing and never gaining power is far better than ruling the world by doing wrong things, his conscience said gently. 

Dertharion jerked from the deer, forcibly removing himself from his mental disagreement. "We-we'd better move on," he said to the Plaguehide.

The White nodded. "The village isn't too far from here. Only a few more minutes."