Black stepped forward from the marsh grass and into the open as Aquarian spoke. There he remained, a visible black velvet shape in the shadows, listening with pricked-up ears and sombre demeanor. When the sea serpent slipped away he turned, looking to Fisher.
"Yes," he agreed in a deep, quiet tone. Then he offered Fisher a brief lick on top of the mustelid's head--and turned, striding confidently toward the strangers in the swamp.
"We have fought the dragon," he declared, assuming incorrectly that they spoke of Baratheon.
He hadn't thought about the fact that he should probably let Fisher speak first; Fisher had made his intentions known, and now the guard dog would be his shield.
"We will aid you."
Then he stepped aside, looking back toward Fisher.
The scars over the side of his own neck were just healing, testament to the ferocity of battle. He knew that the outcome might be their deaths, but had he known the true nature of Raheerah, perhaps he would not have been so bold as to offer their aid. It would be a fool's errand, in his mind--but he didn't yet know.
So he turned his pale and solemn eyes to the alligator and his lizard, and the boar at their side, waiting in silence for Fisher to command him.
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