He circles tighter until he comes in to land, far enough away that the scoop of his wings slowing him down and the dust from his landing doesn't touch the young man. The dragon lands behind him, raising even more dust, dark in the barren landscape.

When it clears, the black beast is gone, and there's just a tall, raw-boned old man with gray hair, gray skin, and a face more weathered than really wrinkled. His eyes are blue, and one is cloudy like it's at least partially blind. He pats the dragon's nose, then pads on over. His feet are bare, oddly enough, though the rest of him is properly clothed, and he even has a shoulder bag of some sort.

"Though only people with dragon nursemaids got to come out this far," he says, by way of greeting.