The raptor outside my cell let me shackle it without a fight. And then I gave it a name. I don't know what's wrong with me.

  Its familiar presence outside my cell is both comforting and unnerving. On the one hand, it is pleasant to have a familiar face await me when I awake from another death, even if it tries to kill me in turn. On the other, the wyrmkin should not have minds or personalities. They are children of Syn and know only destruction.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  If I'm going to be keeping it around, though, I have to teach it how to fight. The raptors are some of the frailest of wyrmkin, and a dead ally does me no good.

  Nor does one that eats my charcoals while I'm trying to write.