He had used Straum’s children as a model, but made a few changes. Where the dragonchildren had been a dusky bronze, Riana’s scales were pearly white. Her body was smaller, retaining her elven slenderness, but the muscles beneath those scales were as powerful as any dragonchild’s. Anyone who tried to hurt her would be lucky to walk away with their limbs attached. The scales should turn most blades. Only her eyes remained the same. Jig hadn’t wanted to change those wide green eyes. She glanced at her hands and laughed when she saw that Jig had restored her missing finger.

She craned her neck to see Jig’s other addition. Two wide, white wings spread across the tunnel.

“Can I fly?” she asked. She spoke with the same lisp as the other dragonchildren.

“I think so. You’ll probably want to practice, though.” He took a deep breath. “If you want, I can change you back. But you have to decide now. You won’t have another chance.”

She nodded slowly. “You’re going to seal the entrance?”

“Yes.”

Riana studied the sleek lines of her arms. Faster than Jig could follow, she punched a fist into the wall. Her delighted laugh echoed up the hall. “It didn’t even hurt. Jig, this is beautiful.”

He felt himself blushing. “Better than the bird?”

“Much better. I can go anywhere I want.” Her voice rose with excitement. “I can fly through the clouds, I could cross the oceans, and nobody can stop me.”

“You’ll be lonely,” Jig warned her. How could she not be? She was a monster now, and Jig had firsthand experience of how surface-dwellers treated monsters.

“I’m used to being lonely,” she said. “Besides, if a goblin and an elf can be friends, what’s to stop me from finding someone else out there?”

Jig had no answer to that, and he didn’t know how to respond to her claim of friendship. He couldn’t argue, either. Who ever heard of a goblin being friends with an elf? Who ever heard of a goblin being friends with anyone? But they had saved each other’s lives several times, which was also unheard of. He blushed. If he tried to say anything, he’d probably make a fool of himself. Still, it felt surprisingly good to have a friend.

“I, um, I should go,” he said. He blushed harder. “I have things I need to do.”

“I understand.” She rushed forward and pulled him into a hug he couldn’t have broken out of if his life depended on it. “Thanks, Jig.”

Then she was gone.

Feeling a strange mix of happiness and loss, Jig headed down the tunnel to close the entrance for good.