The tree crowns from the forest finally blotted out the sun, Welt's most annoying enemy. Now in sweet shade, the skeleton was free to experiment and be creative at last, and since the dragon had calmed down and dropped its huge bottom on the ground, he was able to let go of its tail, and, with a quick tearing off of his cloak and tossing it aside caused by a sudden revelation of what had to be done, he began to strip, still rattling, taking one article of armour after the other as his ivory clavicles, ribs and hips flashed, until he was but 205 bones (he'd lost one toe as a child).

Raising his hand to thumbs up the serf and his pigeons and congratulate him on the excellent idea, he stretched a couple of times and then entered the dragon's smoky hot mouth, in which he curled up in the fetal position, save for one of his legs witch whose four toes he tickled the moist, low hanging uvula of the worm hoping to prevent its mustering of who-knew-what power.