Midz-Aset stared at the creature making its way cautiously across the rocky slope towards him. It was a dragon, slightly bigger than himself, but of a type he had never before seen: long, snakelike, with a strangely-shaped head.
When it was close enough, he called out, in the old tongue, “Do you have a name?”
The interloper gave no response but a steamy snort; he intended a challenge for territory. Midz-Aset resigned himself: there was nothing in or around this worthless mountain he cared for, but honor demanded a defense. In a few hours, there would be one less dragon.