Layla for once did as she was bid. Her flight was straight and true. As soon as her talons hit the ground, the dragon waddled off to find the guardian.<br/><br/>Nimue ran down the hills until she drew close to the village. She melted into the trees, skipping from shadow to shadow until she was close enough to see and hear yet be undetected. Maric was glorious to behold as he strode through the streets barking orders, even making those old crows in holy habit dance to his tune. She felt as if her heart would burst with pride at his power and authority.<br/><br/>From the conversations she overheard, the people thought highly of him and poorly of the clergy. Some were wondering if the sign of the dragon was an indication that the monks would have righteous justice rained down on their tonsured heads. Others disagreed but said the dragon was a sign that the Devil was sending the dragon to remimd the priests that they truly belonged to him. Nimue was shocked. Layla was an animal, not some mystical spiritual harbinger of evil. She was about to burst from the treeline and set some townsfolk straight when Maric strode back through the street.<br/><br/>People knelt to him and some tried to touch the hem of his clothing. He was kind but pink in the face. Nimue beamed. That was the Maric she loved. He was humble and did not see himself as others did. There was nothing of pretense about him. He was all honor and courage.  She devised a plan. As soon as the knight had rounded the corner of the church, she stepped from the shadows and made her way to the town's well. Among the women, she more or less blended in. Had the villagers been less agitated, she might have been detected. but with her cape tossed over her hair, she was only one of them come to draw water.<br/><br/>This time, when Maric strode back up the street, barking more orders, she turned to face him, letting the cape fall away from her hair. He only glanced her way, or rather the way of the horde of gabbling women but Nimue winked at him.