Sawtooth Spire i've heard about this frog, it's a very tiny frog, but it's also very special

A dragon, huh? Stag slowed his advancement for only a beat, as if considering his mortality in the face of such mystic greatness. Was a kiss worth it?

Hell yes.

He swooped in amid Phaedra's shrieks and giggles of protest. "If you're a dragon THEN I'm a unicorn." He struck a brief pose; one that he imagined was evocative, powerful, and graceful just like the fabled horse -- but really just made him look like he was mid grand mal seizure. He grinned and loped after Phaedra, waggling his tongue out after her. "You smell already." He taunted, but the grin still remained: "like bubbleflowers and your stinky brother." Stag might have had a moment to insert any other not-so-witty retort, but Phaedra had advanced the conversation to something else: his pitiful mastery of sekrit words.

Mahler hadn't taught Stag much directly; most of what he knew was through hearing the man talk or comment on something absentmindedly. His brow pulled in concentration -- that didnt' sound like the word Mahler had used once for deer, but he was sure Phaedra was too sweet to lie (ya rite). "Oh, is that what it means?" His voice was similarly hushed, as if they were two thieves in a vault divvying up the goods: "What other sekrit words do you know, o great Dragonaedra?"