Kuportik's forked tongue flicked over the claws on his front foot. So messy, those deer, so full of blood. But that haunch of venison had tasted all right. Not spectacular, but it was sufficient to satiate his hunger. Tomorrow, he'd have to try something new. Maybe fish from the lock. Shark was supposed to good for the scales and teeth.
His huge eyes slowly closed as he drowsed in his cave, tail tucked over his nose.
Tomorrow, next week, next year, it would bring more venison, not fish. His wing still ached and his bones grew weary as the centuries passed.
Kuportik the great dragon dreamed of his past glory, of that time when he was usually more adventurous in his diet.
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Keep it clean, keep it nice.