Truth was what one knew. Something that was crooned from one ear to another, spread by thought and sound. It was what was there, with no ending or beginning.
Men were dangerous. Dangerous, frightening and odd. They tore open scales with claws made of the sallow stone and fire. Their pale scaleless faces bent in odd and frightening ways, blunt teeth and smelly, hairy hides were a warning. They smelt of anger and fright always, they knew of nothing more than the hunt and the attack. That was one Truth all dragons knew. That was truth for a long, long time.
But if there was one thing he- the one with the darkest scales- knew, If there was anything his risings and his fallings had taught him, it was that sometimes truths were lies. Sometimes there were new truths. Contradictions.
Man was one of them.