Claws are not Meant for Mercy: Wings of Fire

One.

Hot.
Dry.
Tired...
No. Must remain alert.
      The arid climate of the desert wasn't anything out of the ordinary. The sun beat down mercilessly on the many dragons milling about the Scorpion's Den. Its rays scorched even the most pure-blooded Sandwing. Even with the tattered cloth stretching in between stalls I could feel the heat dancing along my scales. I loved the heat even if it caused my body to cry out for sleep.
      My eyes trailed over the wares of a particular booth. The prices were outrageously high. I snaked a talon forward to tap a set of ten glass vials and then over to tap against a pair of hearty leather gloves.
      "Price?"
      "Vials are five scales a piece. The gloves are one hundred and fifty. Some of the finest leather you'll find out here." The pale Sandwing stated as she took a step closer.
      "By all the moons - I'd give you fifteen for the set of glasses, and forty for the gloves," I remarked firmly, drawing back and giving the sales dragon a testing glare.
      "One hundred scales for the whole kitten kaboodle."
      "Seventy-five scales for the ten vials and the gloves, we'll call it a deal."
      "Make that eighty-five and we might be able to agree on it." The nearly white sand dragon offered, resting a talon on the table.
      "Deal," I replied with a small growl as I dug through a pouch that had been securely tied inside my main bag. Pickpockets were a big deal in the Scorpion's Den, I, personally, didn't need them stealing from me.
      The scales clinked cheerfully as they fell into the Sandwing's outstretched talons. She slid them into a locked box that was fastened to a fat metal chain around her neck. The pale dragon ducked down to rummage under the worn wooden table. My gaze wandered past the sand-ridden stall to a bulletin board. One of many posted around the Den.
      Attack on Sandwing Palace!
      Nightwings out for blood!
My brows raised in surprise, now that's new... An attack on the Sandwing Palace you say? Might be good for some . . . unusual, forms of business.
      A crinkling of paper drew my eyes back as the sand dragon emerged from under the table with two small papyrus bags. She carefully wrapped the ten glass vials and inserted them inside the flimsy wrapping. She opened the second bag and slid the gloves inside.
I gladly retrieved my newly purchased wares and placed them in a different pouch inside my main bag. The sales dragon gave a last nod of acknowledgment before turning to greet a pair of dragons approaching her stall.
      Decidedly, I turned on my heels and began weaving through the congested talon traffic. I only had one more thing in mind that I wanted to look for. Unfortunately, that sort of thing couldn't be found in the day market.
      The sun had long set over the horizon of the desert. The sky, once a brilliant shade of azure, was now the rich color of raw sapphires. A hush would fall over the Scorpion's Den as it did every night. However, this night was different than most. The collection of voices from the daylight hours barely dented in volume. Music and boisterous voices clamored like chattering tropical birds.
      Tonight was a full moon. Every full moon the streets of the Den would become lively throughout the night. It was both a celebration and one of the very few times the night market would be open.
      Alert.
      No Distractions.
      In and Out.
      The concentration of dragons was focused on the center of the celebration around the oasis, as were many of the booths that held the common items you would find in the day market. What I am looking for isn't common amongst average sales dragons. It takes a special kind of smart to find a buyer that sells Sandwing tails. Thankfully, I just happen to be that "special kind of smart."
      It's a pain in the tail to cross through the festivities of the full moon festivals to reach the market. The dragons belching out horrendous notes of song, the dragonets running rampant in the streets, every part of it made my insides itch with displeasure.
      I wove through couples dancing to the beat of a drum as I rounded the oasis. The little lights strung between palm trees faded to nothing as I grew further and further away from the center. The further I grew away the more the buildings seemed to grow with neglect.
      The path in my brain was ingrained. I didn't have a need to think twice about the direction my talons would lead me through the winding side alleys of the Den. A towering stone arch officially marked the entrance of the dimly lit market. I allowed a brief sigh to slip past my teeth as I crossed under the threshold.
      No Distractions.
      ... In...and Out.
      The inhabitants of the stalls were none to be trifled with unless you had one hundred percent knowledge of what you were trying to accomplish. It is strictly business. No one in the market is buddy-buddy. If you weren't careful enough your face might be the next to end up on a missing poster.
      The shouts and singing of the festival could barely be heard. Murmurs now replaced them. Quiet, hushed whispers, as if afraid something terrible might befell them if they dare raise their voices.
      Boxes of herbs, cages with animals, and racks with various bottles are enough to catch the eye of many dragons quietly passing between booths. I however had learned many valuable lessons from lingering too long and allowing my eye to catch on wares that I now deemed unnecessary.
      The path through the stalls to my seller's booth is simple enough. It's the shady dragons and blockade-like stacks of wares that stuck out into the talon path that make the trip so difficult. The mutterings of dragons shrouded in shadow reverberated in my head as I crept down the trail. My eyes finally glimpsed the familiar faded purple and red cloth draped over the awning of the stall I had been searching for.
      Bringing up a warped talon, I drew back the curtain. Inhaling the stench of decay that was poorly masked by a sickly flower-like scent, I allowed the drape to close behind me. A quieted sound of scales against scales announced the presence of the owner I had come to see.
      "Ahhhh, what a pleasssure it is to ssee you again."