Dragoncrest Cliffs we are still trained killers

sapphique’s matron comes down from the cliffs,
takes one look at the sodden wretch
and extends the full magnitude of
feminine generosity; a sweep of her tongue 
and she directs child and lost son
to the eaves of the roja den. 
he’s quiet as he offers his shoulder 
foisting the sniffling girl
towards her new destiny
  where hopefully 
she’d be a little less wet.