the travelers descend a mountain pass and emerge through a wrack of cloud into a gray and cheerless region. fire- blackened trees dot the barren landscape. as they reach the flatlands, the urlanders instinctively pick up the pace. galen slows to inspect the weird surroundings. valerian trots past him.
a procession of curious villagers winds its way into the badlands. they gather on a promontory overlooking the dragon's lair. they stand there for a long time, a chill wind whipping their garments, trying to understand what's happened. the monk is mightily displeased.
dark clouds slide across a pale sun, throwing the ruined land below into shadow. soon fat droplets of rain are splattering on the rocks above the dragon's lair. with each tiny splash there is a sizzle and a puff of steam. these rocks are hot!
the unnerved citizens of swanscombe gather on the promontory overlooking galen's landslide. every few seconds there is a new shudder and more rocks pour down the long slope. valerian stands trembling with her father. presently brother jacopus elbows his way forward.
clouds scud low over the lifeless region. the dragon's lair now has a newer, bigger entrance. vapors drift upward from it. down the slope a lonely figure works its way from rock to rock: it's valerian with a wicker basket on her arm, searching for dragon scales. the basket is already more than half full when she finds herself ominously near the mouth of the cavern. she's about to turn back when she spies a particularly large and beautiful scale just a few yards further on. as she reaches for it, there is a sudden hiss! she jerks her hand back and freezes. there in the shadows is a baby dragon, a basilisk, all coppery bronze with stubby winglets. as she backs away, she sees two more come up to join the first. they watch her retreat through wicked little green eyes.
galen bounds up the rocky slope as fast as he can manage, trailed by a desperate valerian.