"DRAKING PARTY"
(2004, watercolor pencil, ink & white gouache on bristol)

"HAE-UP!"

With a shout, Herdsire Flavian launched the great rubyback into the air. The drake thrashed its powerful wings, circling for altitude; then, uttering a thin, piercing whistle, it sped toward the distant flock of crows. Flavian galloped off in pursuit, a flash of chestnut and brilliant gold, calling out words of encouragement to his pet.

Greyflank Cornbeard watched the Herdsire rushing off in the distance and stamped nervously. "Would you prefer to loose next, my Lady, or shall I?" He began to undo the hood from his own drake (which had been trying to claw it off for the past half-hour), until Bryony turned and touched him on the shoulder.

"Let him have his fun for now." She glanced about; the servants had retired to a respectful distance, and the only other souls visible were a team of farm workers in a remote field. "Surely you must have known," she said, toying with her little sparrowdrake, "I did not bring you out here, Godsire, merely for a morning's sport."

"I could never have become Herdsdam without the help of Cornbeard Herd," she admitted, "and you know I have done much to advance your own fortunes. But there is one more thing I would ask of you."

She turned her green eyes directly into Greyflank's own.

"The Herdsire must die."

(from a lost chapter of an unwritten story)