directed by whigwham
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Description

I can't write worth a damn but I had this story in my head

Your wyvern companion has been acting… different the last 2 months.
You first found her years ago and she always seemed to enjoy being around you, but lately she’s been more like a shadow on you.

Sitting practically in your lap while you hitch a wagon ride, walking close enough that one wing is always touching your leg, and more than once you have awoken to find her lying just outside your tent with her head resting on your feet.

Today was a new level still. You caught her trying to watch you bathe in the nearby river from behind some brush.

Was it simple curiosity? An over protective nature? Whatever it was you decided to play along and pretend to not see her. The evening sun casts long dark shadows from the trees providing ample cover for her subtle movements as she slowly inches closer like a stalking predator. Each time you turn in her direction she freezes in position, waiting quietly and motionless for you to turn away before creeping ever closer. Close to the shoreline she gently crawls under a bush, her snout barely poking out from the thicket of leaves and limbs. Slowly she stretches out her wings laying them flat, sliding her hind legs out behind her until she vanishes into the shadows of the woods.

Your game of pretend is less playful now, her dark form having disappeared completely into the shadows leaving you wondering and anxious. Was she practicing stalking you? Would she bolt from the woods and tackle you? You begin to wash faster now, looking over your shoulder from time to time but the expected pounce never comes. Climbing out of the river with your washing finished you head for the bush you saw her in last. Still expecting a flying tackle, you stop some distance to the tree line and call out her name but there is no response or movement. With the setting sun making it harder to see you crawl closer to find the bush empty. Did she give up and return to camp?

Now as you return to camp you notice her bedroll is empty. She always did prefer hunting at dusk so her absence is not unusual but a strange shadow on the wall of your tent catches your eye.
Drawing closer you can see the walls of the tent shaking and twisting and hear heavy rustling sounds from within. In the rare moments of stillness, the shadows take the unmistakable shape paws and claws hanging in the air. Around the front you find a wide flat tail covered in black fur twisting and writhing through the unfastened corner of the tent door.

Opening the tent door you find your wyvern rolling and slithering on your bedroll. As she wallows in your scent, or perhaps trying to cover it in hers, you can hear soft purring noises escape her chest.
Clearing your throat snaps her back to reality like a lighting bolt, her pupils narrowing to thin slivers as they lock to the opening. A moment of silence passes before her face flashes red as the bed roll she lays on. Slowly she unfolds her winged arms and spreading her hind legs presenting herself in the most open display she can manage.

It’s going to be a long night.

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