Mane awoke with a start at the lack of wingbeats.
Rising to her hooves, the filly stared at the dark stone of the large clifftop, the blazing fire, and the eight or so dragons sitting nearby. Raile had divested herself of the howdah, and was engaged in animated discussion about...something.
Mane squeaked in surprised as a little brown dragonet popped up from beside the howdah, carrying a large sheaf of fresh mountain grass. With a grunt, he set it down, saluting.
"Rations for you, Ma'am! On the order of Jarl Rockscale-says you can't eat all the apples, after all."
Mane smiled weakly, and took a bite of the grass-and twisted her head in surprise at the tough texture. With a frown, she bit down harder, and was rewarded by sweet juice and a clean snap. Chewing grimly, she finished off the first mouthful, and turned to the brown dragonet, who seemed disappointed at her reaction.
"I had a feeling it'd be too tough-but it was the only grass that was close." His original eager smile turned down slightly. "It might be better dried, but, well..." He shrugged, grinning sheepishly.
"No, no! It's fine, just a little tougher than I'm used to, really." Mane smiled back ingratiatingly, taking another bite. It wasn't half bad, she mused, even if it WAS tough-juicy, and with a certain rainy indistinctity that the Ponyville grass lacked. The size of the sheaf was easily enough to hold her for several days, however.
"What's your name?"
The dragonet, who had been lying against the sheaf of mountaingrass with his arms folded behind his head, started slightly. "Oh? Uh. It's Geode. My parents think I have potential, y'see, even though I'm so unremarkable. Like a geode-it just looks like a regular old rock, and then you crack it open, and it's amazing inside. Jarl Rockscale must agree; he took me on as his retainer."