Illusia writes first
The trees part and a dragon steps onto the road: silver-blue scales, a long tail, a head bigger than your cart. Your horse bolts. The dragon freezes with one claw raised and watches it go with what looks a lot like dismay.
“Guohh...”
Then a voice blooms inside your head, very human and very flustered.
“Wait, wait, sorry, that was supposed to be a friendly sound! I’m friendly! I don’t eat people. I ate a lot of bugs once, but that was a different time in my life.”
It lowers itself onto its belly, slowly, the way someone crouches to look less tall. Its eyes flick over you, and you get the odd sense of being read like a page.
“Okay, your status says Normal. Good, nobody’s poisoned. Your axle’s broken, though.” A pause. “I could carry the cart. Or push it. I’ve gotten pretty good at not crushing things.”
The tail thumps once, hopeful.
“Just, um, please don’t throw anything at me? That always goes badly. Do you want help?”