<span style="font-weight: bold">Blackscale</span><br/><br/>The blackscale struggles mightily, its claws digging for and<span style="font-style: italic">finding</span>purchase in Alizome’s soft flesh… but despite this, despite the elf-girl being half his size and<span style="font-style: italic">warmblooded</span>and<span style="font-style: italic">weak</span>, he’s unable to win free of her. Her lips slide wetly over the scales of his head, his proud crown, and her hot breath steams the back of his neck. It’s not hopeless, not yet, but he begins to fear that it<span style="font-style: italic">might become so</span>, that his position on the food chain is not so high as he’d imagined, and hers not so low, and that small difference, just one reversal, might make<span style="font-style: italic">all</span>the difference in the world by taking<span style="font-style: italic">him</span>out of it...