Seen from afar, a black flood dragon was making his awkward way along a narrow mountain path. His body was enormous, but the path was terribly cramped.
The level stretches were manageable; he could twist and sway his body along smoothly. But whenever he reached a cleft between rocks at different heights, he had to lie flat, press his belly scales against the ground, and inch forward in a wriggling crawl. His armored scales scraped white streaks across the stone walls.
His favorite stretches were the nearly vertical stairways to heaven. Small footholds had been chiseled into the rock, and gripping them with all four claws made climbing easier than traveling over level ground. His long silhouette wound upward against the cliff face, now fast, now slow.
On his first visit to request an audience, he had to show some manners. Doing things in human territory meant obeying human rules. When his strength fell short, he must not act tough; when it was time to lower his head, he should lower it.
Besides, he was not afraid of losing face. He was not human to begin with, so there was no need to stand on dignity.
After an arduous climb, he was almost at the summit. His four claws gripped the joints in a wall of stone blocks as he hauled himself up little by little. His great head reached the top first, his nostrils drawing breath in and out and his vertical pupils shifting. To his surprise, there was a little stone terrace at the summit.
The summit was a jumble of smooth, uneven rocks, but humans excelled at building nests. They had stacked stone blocks in the low places, filled them with earth, and laid paving slabs over them, forcibly carving out a level space in this treacherous