The northeastern shore of Lyonisia faces a shallow sea containing a scimitar-shaped archipelago of of barren stone isles and coral islets. At the very end of this archipelago, at the tip of the scimitar, one of these tiny islands stands out from all the rest. It is no wider than thirty feet, yet nearly one hundred feet high.

Its summit is covered in a dome-shaped structure constructed of reeds and driftwood, of the flotsam and jetsam collected over the years by its owner. Pieces of sail, dried seaweed, and torn clothing lost to the sea, fill in the gaps of its constructed skeleton, providing warmth, safety, and a dry place to rest during the frequent storms which punish the surrounding waters.

This is the home of  Nawby Tarroo. He is a Sea-Eagle, a pale broad-winged avian with long sharp talons and a fearsome hooked beak which belies his diet of fish and mollusks. He was born in the dome on a hot summer's day, forcing himself through the dense shell of his egg to an empty space filled with rotting fish.

No parents ever returned, no mother to feed him and no father to teach him about the world. The pile of rotting fish was what sustained him until his tiny limbs were strong enough to scale down to the shoreline where an abundant bed of mussels provided him the sustenance to survive.

He took the name Nawby Tarroo from letters scratched into the wood of his home. He learned to fly and speak from a kindly pelican named Blesphus whom he encountered at the mussel-bed while still a tiny chick.

Blesphus had been ancient when Nawby first met him and had passed from this life while Nawby was still young. The eagle had been by himself for many years now, taking comfort in the sounds of the sea and the many small treasures he had collected to decorate his home.

Nawby taught himself to read from a child's primer he found amidst a trunk of books floating in the sea after a storm.

The other birds were all terrified of him, not surprisingly, for he had grown into a fierce-looking adult. They scattered whenever he shared their skies. He was lonely without knowing it, for he had always been alone and knew no other life save the short time the kindly old pelican had treated him as a son.

None of these seemingly sad circumstances damaged Nawby's optimistic and basically positive outlook on life. He enjoyed his days for the most part and on those occasional dark periods when he pitied himself or found himself drowning in sorrow, he would focus on the sea and lose himself in its magnitude and splendor. When this exercise was complete, he would find himself once more centered and joyous in his existence.

On this particularly glorious day, there was no sorrow nor trepidation present in Nawby's demeanor, only hunger. He had felt especially peckish all morning, but put off searching for food until his self-imposed chores at the nest were completed. These primarily involved cleaning and tidying his space, a weekly exercise he'd practiced since childhood. His tasks complete, Nawby now focused his attention to the empty feeling in his stomach.

The waters around Lyonisia were rich, fertile fishing grounds for man, beast, and bird. Schools of tuna, bluefish, mackerel, herring, and other baitfish abounded in the neritic zone around the rocky coastline.

Nawby, like most Sea-Eagles focused on medium-sized fish like bluefish and mackerel. Tuna were too large to lift and baitfish too small to grasp in his talons. By soaring high above the surface of the sea, the enormous schools were clearly visible as writhing masses of light and dark moving through the ocean in unison as its members in turn fed on schools of smaller fish.

Nawby quickly noticed a shimmering elongated mass snaking its way around the edge of the shallows. He determined it to be a school of mackerel because of its lighter color and the shimmers of silver reflected sunlight it displayed. He smiled to himself. He was very fond of mackerel, preferring it to the larger and less tasty bluefish, whose schools were dark-colored and slower moving and whose larger members could reach sizes exceeding twenty pounds making them difficult to carry to land to be eaten.

His mouth watered in anticipation of a much desired meal as he tucked his wings against his body and began to plunge legs first, talons extended, toward the front of the undulating shape beneath the surface. He gave his talons a last quick flex before striking the water. As his legs broke the surface, Nawby quickly closed his talons, expecting to catch a sizable mackerel in each.

Instead, Nawby felt himself crash into something large and firm. Before he could react, the mass which he had assumed to be a school of fish rose abruptly out of the water and hurled him violently across the waves and into the top of a rocky outcrop protruding from the shallows. He was briefly stunned and as he regained his senses, Nawby found himself wedged between two large stones, unable to move. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs and looked forward.

A giant form skimmed toward him at high speed. Its gaping yaw stood open revealing rows of leviathan-sized teeth, each one nearly the size of Nawby, coming toward the eagle like a juggernaut.

Nawby was at once both frightened and sad as his end plowed toward him. His fear was the fear any rational creature would experience in such a precarious situation, trapped, immobile, and helpless, with the infuriated monster charging. It was the sadness that surprised the eagle. He was sad that he would never see his nest again, that he would never finish the book he had just started, and most of all that he would die unloved and no one would even know.

Even as a tear cascaded down his noble face, he steeled himself, determined to die bravely. He wanted to stare down his approaching doom, but the gnawing fear got the best of him and he closed his eyes. With a deep breath, Nawby was ready for his fate. He thrust his head forward in defiance. Nothing happened. He waited. He waited some more. He slowly opened his right eye, which, like his left, had been tightly scrunched shut.

He jerked in shock at what he saw, pushing further back into the rocks which held him prisoner. An enormous silver-white head, cocked slightly to one side in curiosity, loomed several feet in front of him. Its mouth was closed now. It swam forward slowly, completely obscuring Nawby's view of anything else. The behemoth sniffed at him and studied him carefully. Nawby summoned his courage and addressed the titan.

"There's not much meat on my bones and I'm fairly certain that I don't taste good at all."

The beast paused as Nawby spoke and then continued to study the eagle. Nawby continued, "I'm sorry I scratched you. I mistook you for a school of mackerel...it's not as stupid as it sounds, you'd be surprised how much you do...look like a school of fish, I mean, from on high...in the clouds...where I was," Nawby paused.

He felt a little more confident. He smiled, "My name is Nawby, Nawby Tarroo. I live very near here," he wriggled his body, emphasizing how tightly he was wedged between the rocks, "but I seem to be stuck. You don't suppose you could...you know...help me out? Can you understand me?"

The leviathan continued staring at the eagle without much movement. Nawby became a little frustrated with the monster's unstirring silence.
"If your just going to leave me stuck here to starve and rot, you might as well eat me," he said angrily.

Suddenly the monster opened his mouth and leaned toward the eagle who changed his mind quickly.
"I was only joking!" Nawby said desperately upon seeing the massive teeth approaching him, "Let's think about this!"

The beast closed his mouth around the larger of the rocks pinning Nawby in and pulled. It came out easily and the eagle, freed now, fell into the sea. He surfaced a few seconds later and flew to the top of the outcrop which had until a moment before been his prison.

He looked at the great beast and smiled. The monster looked at him in what Nawby assumed to be a friendly way and spit the stone he had pulled off the eagle over Nawby's head. It almost appeared as though the mighty creature was himself grinning.

Nawby studied his savior carefully for the first time. He was absolutely enormous, more amphibian or reptile than fish, fowl, or beast. The beast was covered in blue-white scales that mimicked the color of polar ice. It did not seem to be an eel or snake as Nawby first thought since it had a defined head, neck, body, and tail. Though he couldn't be certain from his angle of view, the eagle thought he saw appendages, possibly legs or arms beneath the surface of the water. Nawby stared deeply into the unblinking platter-sized eyes. One was blue and the other green.

Nawby shook his head and chuckled.
"I think you're a dragon of some kind. I've read about your kind...never seen one before though. What are you doing here? Looking for something to eat?"

He continued speaking as though he was certain the giant understood him, "I could find you a big school of bluefish from the sky and lead you to them. They chase off and eat all the fish that I like and there's millions of them...you'd be doing me and the other fish a big favor...want to give it a try?"

He waited for an answer that he knew wouldn't come, then took off into the sky. He circled every few minutes before moving on and was delighted to see that the dragon was looking up at him and following him to deeper waters.

About a mile further out from Lyonisia, Nawby spotted a gigantic school of bluefish. The eagle descended to barely a dozen feet above the center of the school and waited for his new friend to catch up. It did not take long. The great beast rushed into the school feeding to his heart's content.

When he was sated, the dragon floated lazily on the surface of the now placid sea. Nawby landed in front of him, floating and paddling like a duck. He picked pieces of fish from the water, feeding his own appetite with the creature's leftovers.

"Thanks for the meal, my large friend," he said happily.

The dragon raised his head and belched loudly. Nawby chuckled and turned his head away.
"There's no doubt you've been eating fish," he turned back toward the beast and smiled, "I'll be glad to guide you to meals whenever you like."

He pointed to where his nest was barely visible on the distant stone promontory.
"That's where I live...come by whenever you want...do you understand?"

The dragon stared at Nawby without moving or uttering a sound. Then suddenly and without warning it turned and shot seaward, disappearing beneath the surface and leaving the eagle bobbing on the waves.

Nawby was surprised to find himself disappointed that the creature had departed, but exhilarated at the unique experience of playing guide to a dragon.

As the day wore on and the sun began its descent in the distant west, the lone eagle made his way back to his comfortable home. He crawled into his shelter, pausing briefly at the plank bearing his name, Nawby Tarroo, which was prominently displayed near the front entrance.

Before darkness could enshroud the nest, the eagle lit two oil lamps. He cuddled himself amidst a large pile of soft blankets and quilts and opened a book he had recently found washed up on his islet and dried. It was a collection of adventure stories, tales of bravery and honor, intended to teach young readers the behavior and courage expected of heroes and of good beings in general. He fell asleep thinking of far away lands, dragons, and the fellowship of friends.