High Flying Dragon

The wind whipped through my hair as we soared above the clouds, my hands gripping the iridescent scales of Kazanthur the Magnificent. This was my first time riding a dragon, and my heart pounded with equal parts terror and exhilaration.

"We're so high up!" I shouted over the rushing air, watching mountain peaks pass beneath us like pebbles in a stream.

"Oh yeah, I'm really high right now," Kazanthur replied, his massive voice rumbling through his body and into mine. He executed a lazy loop-de-loop that made my stomach lurch.

"That's what I just said!" I called back, assuming he was agreeing about our altitude.

"No, no, you don't understand," the dragon chuckled, smoke rings puffing from his nostrils. "Remember those special mushrooms growing in that cave we passed? The glowing purple ones?"

My blood ran cold. "You didn't..."

"I ate the WHOLE PATCH!" Kazanthur announced gleefully, starting to zigzag through the air. "Hey, do you think clouds taste like cotton candy? Let's find out!"

"Wait, no—!" I screamed as we plunged into a cloud bank, my dragon mount giggling like a schoolchild. The mighty Kazanthur, terror of the western realms, was absolutely zooted on psychedelic mushrooms.

"Oh wow," he breathed, emerging from the cloud. "Did you see all the colors? Also, I think my tail is speaking ancient Elvish to me right now."

"Please just focus on flying straight," I begged, clinging tighter to his scales.

"You know what would be amazing right now?" Kazanthur mused, completely ignoring my plea. "If we tried flying upside down!"

In that moment, I learned one vital lesson: always verify your dragon's sobriety before mounting.