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... d him like a living collection of bees, points of awareness spilling over iridescent scales and the silver twist of his frills—he churred, low and excited, bubbles spilling through his fangs. Mayalle's whirlpool tugged him through, tail lashing as he called upon the water to guide him home—and with an elegance I hadn't actually seen from him before. He called the water and oh, still with the gravitas of a dragon, with the sea-drake budding in his bones, but now with an understanding. Not yet ref ...

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