While walking through the forest in silence, George was enjoying coming up with different words to describe his travel companion. Egocentric. Arrogant. Ooh, how about, self-absorbed? Sounds like a sponge, George thought with amusement.

    "Can I call you 'Sponge'?" he blurted.

    Paul looked over at him slowly. "Sponge? Why?"

    "I don't know," George said with a shrug. "I just thought it suited you."

    "How?"

    "No reason."

    Paul shook his head, obviously unamused. Meanwhile, Martha was zigzagging from tree to tree, smelling the bark for a whiff of something that intrigued her. She kept barking and wagging her tail, glancing back at Paul with an enthused look.

    "Why Martha?" George asked.

    "What do you mean?"

    "Why did you name her that? Usually dogs are named things like 'Fido,' 'T-Bone,' and 'Lucky.'"

    "I just liked the name," Paul said, looking sideways at George. "Why do you ask so many questions?"

    "Maybe because I just met you and we're going to take bad dude down together? Maybe I want to get to know you a little bit?"

    "I just want to be a knight," Paul said dismissively. "That doesn't mean I have to know you, Greg."

    George stopped walking, regarding him in shock. "My name is George, not Greg!" After a pause he added, "Pablo!"

    Paul gasped. "My name is Paul, Greg!"

    "Whatever, Pablo."

    "Screw you, Greg." After getting his two cents in, Paul continued striding, completely ignoring George now. Before it had just been silence from the other man, but now it was as if George was invisible.

    Greg, his thoughts scoffed. Greg! Can you believe that?

    After fifteen minutes of following dried up grass, Paul stopped, eyeing the trees around him suspiciously. George halted beside him, silent, refusing to ask him what the problem was.

    "The trail's gone," Paul said finally, shoulders slumping with defeat.

    "Gone? How can it be gone?" George exclaimed. "Anything the guy touches is dead! What — did he start flying so we couldn't follow him anymore?"

    "Maybe he's a dragon too," Paul said quietly.

    "Pfft," George said, dismissively waving a hand. "I don't know about you, but I think we should just keep going. Maybe he's covering it up somehow."

    "Or he took a sharp turn and we lost it."

    George scanned the woods, looking for something that indicate where Mark had lost them. After a few moments of searching, he caught sight of some log cabins up ahead. "Hey, it's a village. Maybe we can ask them if they saw some creep skulking through the woods sometime."

    "This is a bad idea," Paul groaned. "The villagers are probably crazy axe murderers who'll go postal on sight."

    "Just come on," George said, grabbing Paul's forearm and dragging him toward the houses.

    They arrived in the village and found that no one was out milling around. It was completely dead, like a ghost town. The hair on the back of George's neck stood on end and he started to take a few steps back, pulling Paul with him. It felt . . . wrong.

    There was the sound of a door banging open to the right, and George almost jumped out of his skin. Standing in the doorway of one of the cabins was an auburn-haired man with a crazed look in his eyes.

    "Listen here, you forest trolls, Johnny Lennon will teach you a lesson or two about barging into my town!" he cried with an insane chortle. Before George could get the sense to run, the man was barreling down the steps, wielding a large hammer. George imagined blood and hair stuck to that thing after this guy was through with them.

    "Yep, we're going to die," Paul squeaked, turning to run. George would have followed, but his feet seemed to be glued to the grass. Beside him, Martha had hunkered down close to the ground, baring her teeth, and growling in a ferocious way that would have made George wet himself if it had been him she was snarling at.

    "John, stop!" yelled a voice. "Look at their marks!"

    The madman slowed to a stop, lowering the hammer slightly, turning to scowl at the person who had emerged from the cabin. It took George a moment to make out his features, but could clearly see a large nose.

    "Why do you have to spoil everything?" the auburn-haired man pouted.

    "Maybe because I don't want you killing everything that moves? They could be allies!"

    The auburn-haired man rolled his eyes and turned back to George and Paul, who was a few feet behind him, legs still tensed so he could flee quickly.

    "Hey, can you get that flea-ridden vermin to stop growling at me?" the man said, gesturing the hammer to Martha.

    "She is a sheepdog, not a rodent," Paul said defensively, "and she doesn't have one flea on her, thank you very much." He grabbed her collar and managed to calm her down.

    "Tell me who you are and what your business is out here," the man barked.

    "Um, I'm G-George Harrison," George sputtered.

    "Paul McCartney," Paul said with a hint of pride.

    "And we've been sent by the king to get his crown back from this necromancer," George said.

    The man studied them carefully. "Rings noticed your birthmarks, so you're lucky. I wouldn't killed you and asked questions later." He eyed them some more. "I don't trust any stranger that comes out of the woods, so prove you're dragons."

    "Transform, please," the big-nosed man said politely.

    "Shouldn't be too hard," George muttered. "Just did this earlier." He exhaled and shook out his hands, shifting his feet. He stood there for a moment, nothing happening.

    The auburn-haired man raised an eyebrow.

    Paul swooped in to the rescue. "Just give us a second. We're new to this whole thing, just found out about it today." He laughed nervously.

    "Today?" the man exclaimed. "King Brian must not really want his crown back, sending mediocre people like you after it."

    "John," the big-nosed man hissed. "Give them a minute."

    George bit his lip and clenched his hands, nails digging into the palms. He could do this. He closed his eyes and concentrated on growing wings and scales. After a few moments, he felt his body stretching. It didn't hurt as much this time, having already done it before.

    Behind him, Paul was transforming as well. Martha took a few steps back, looking up at him curiously.

    The man named John actually took a step back too, looking up at them with a look of mild awe. The big-nosed man behind him had a slight smile on his face, nodding.

    "All right, all right," John said, voice filled with disappointment. "You passed the test. You can go back to your normal form."

    They changed back, George feeling slightly exhausted. "Now that that's out of the way: have you seen someone suspicious near here? Anything he steps on turns brown. We were following his trail, but . . . we lost it."

    John let out a bark of laughter. "You lost it?"

    George and Paul lowered their head with shame.

    "Now that I think about it," the big-nosed man said, "I think I did see someone in some black robes go by here. I didn't think much of it, because we see all sorts come through here. That's why John was so aggressive." He sent John a pointed look.

    "Which way did he go?" Paul asked eagerly.

    "Over that way somewhere," Ringo said, pointing in the way they'd come.

    "Okay, thanks," George said with a nod. "We'd better get going." He started to turn when John stopped him.

    "Hey, uh, can I maybe come with you?" he asked, trying to be casual.

    A smile crept onto George's face. "Sure! The more help the better!"

    John turned and looked at the man with the big nose. "Ringo, are you coming?"

    "I don't know," Ringo said hesitantly, blue eyes darting around. "This doesn't sound like something I would like to do . . . "

    "We never know when your fire breath could come in handy," John pointed out. "You can't just leave me with some amateurs! They clearly don't know what they're doing. Do you really want me to die alone with them?"

    Ringo hesitated. "I suppose I could come . . . "

    "Great, I'll pack our things," John said, pushing past him to enter the cabin. "It's been ages since I've left this stupid village!"