Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I do play the game tho…

Got Meat?

Lowen was calmly cooking the wonderful venison Will had accidentally shot down during target practice with Rath and Rebecca. Matthew meandered into the mess tent, whistling and being merry.

"Looking for some food?" Lowen asked.

"I don't quite know what I'm looking for yet…" Matthew mused, looking over spices and such. He had that look in his eye, Lowen saw. That look that said whoever the brunt of the practical joke currently brewing was would be beset upon mercilessly. In other words, Matthew was feeling mean.

"Well, do you think things could stew awhile in that brain of yours? Supper's not done yet." Lowen was cutting up the venison more, having cooked it well.

"Stew…Lowen, are you going to use that broth?" Matthew asked.

Lowen was not one to get in the way of Matthew and his mischief.

"No… I suppose you need it?"

"For all your hair covering your eyes, you are quite astute, my friend." Matthew grinned, and took the whole pot of cooling broth. As he retreated before anyone else could come in, Lowen called,

"Don't break that pot, Matthew! We need it!"

"I'm not going to break the pot, Lowen, have more faith in me!" Matthew called over his shoulder as he left.

That night, Matthew crept over to Heath's resting place. Yes. Heath. The poor, unsuspecting, innocent soul. Matthew thought it was about time Heath was one of the troupe, and what better way than by playing a prank?

So Matthew found the shift Heath would wear the next day, no doubt. And he poured the broth on it. Most of it, mind you. The rest he slid down to the deeply asleep Wyvern. Then, Matthew did some quick retreating, and went to bed, with a grin on his face big enough to tense Oswin, who was on sentry duty.

The next morning was disrupted by the frantic screams of Heath as he sprinted across camp, chased by his very own flying mount, who was currently snapping his jaws at his green-haired rider.

"You stupid beast! What did I ever do! I'm not food, you clout-brained wyrm!" Heath roared, and leaped into a lake. The wyvern hesitated, and sniffed around. Heath came up sputtering, but the wyvern had lost its streak insanity, and promptly picked Heath up by his tunic, swung him to his saddle, and trotted off before flying off for their training, for which by now the Wyvern's instinct led him to move through.

And if you hadn't guessed, Matthew was laughing, rolling on the ground, and nearly crying in his mirth. It appeared that the noble mount had tasted the broth left for him, and found the taste quite desirable, so when he smelled it upon his rider, he felt it necessary to relieve the poor soul of the meat he was hiding… or so the Wyvern thought.

Heath was told of Matthew's likely hold in the matter of his Wyvern's desire to eat him. Lowen felt it right to help both sides.

Matthew had to watch his back for fear of it sporting a spear for the next few days…but it was worth it, he felt, to see Heath welcomed more warmly into the troupe, now that he was as susceptible, if more so, to the pranks Matthew pulled.