"Elder, could I have another lamb chop? Just one, that's all I need," the Little Black Dragon on the backpack asked, a bit sheepishly.
He couldn't resist the temptation of the lamb chops.
They smelled too good.
And they tasted different from the sheep he caught himself. He knew cooked meat tasted better, but he didn't know how to cook it just right.
He would just blast it with a puff of fire and hope for the best.
Those were the best lamb chops he had ever eaten.
There were so many flavors layered together, and plenty of salt—a valuable commodity in the wild.
"They're all gone. You ate all the rations I brought, not even a bone is left," the Green Dragon replied.
In the past, Mier wouldn't have spat out the bones either. But now he was a refined Green Dragon who didn't eat bones.
And this Little Black Dragon, who knows how long it had been since he'd had a full meal, devoured nearly twenty kilograms of food in one go.
