The man saw smoke over the trees, and began to hear the sounds of a village echoing in the distance. Finally, he thought. He should reach the town within the next two hours. Suddenly, his pointed ears perked up. Movement in the trees. He heard twigs snap and the hand on his katana's hilt tightened.
Three humans appeared out of the brush in front of him, brandishing crude, rusty weapons. The dragon glanced behind him. Two more blocked his retreat. "What's this then?" The balding man with a squashed nose asked nobody in particular. Syr thought it was safe to assume he was the leader of the little band. "Greetings, traveller," Baldy said. "We be tax collectors in these parts, and that means you gotsta pay our toll, see?"
Sirushar grinned amiably. "My apologies, good sir," He said, flashing his fangs, "But I have no coin to give." He raised both arms to show that he was empty-handed. "I'm afraid I'll have to owe you."