You're not sure what the animal was, but it had been too fat to have been an elk, and it had looked to have been three times the height of an elephant. Mysteriously, though, the animal was fully cooked, and you can remember Dizzy prodding at the animal's burnt exterior, a little disgustedly, and asking Blunt-snout why he would ever consume burnt meat...on purpose, anyhow.
{{It's an old kobold custom!}} Blunt-snout had said brightly. {{They stuff it with foraged roots and seeds that make it taste more like meat than meat!}} At that, the kobolds had begun digging out chunks of an animal that was almost identical to the three that had been given to the dragons, and they had begun serving their portions on slabs of slate that had apparently been shaped into perfect square tiles with ornate grooves in them that were both beautiful and useful for holding the juices of their repast.
Reluctantly, Dizzy-tail had begun delving into the burnt meat, clearly finding the idea of it to be appalling. {{Tastes like crop-milk,}} he had grumbled. {{Hatchling-food.}}
{{What's this?}} you had asked, referring to a trough, made from a hollowed-out half-log, that contained a sort of liquid.
{{Oh, it's just a cold soup of sorts,}} Blunt-snout had said. {{I find that a sip of it, here and there, helps my food rest easier in my belly, especially with all the spices in this stuff. I never liked having too much of it, though. It's another kobold concept.}}
The travails of the day had left you feeling thirsty, though, and once invited to start drinking the soup, you had kept lapping it up between bites of your mega-elk. Hmm, not too bad, you had thought.
At some point, you think you might have passed out face-first in the meat. A classic face-plant, right in your food.
You wake up to Dizzy-tail licking your face, and with a sense of dread, you get a sense that he is very much full of energy and probably horny. Crap.
{{Is it time for dessert yet?}} you ask Dizzy-tail, having no concept of how long you were out.
{{Oh, you mean the mashed offal and milk?}} Dizzy-tail says dismissively, making a face. {{Yeah, I saved plenty for you. More hatchling-food.}} He sticks out his tongue. {{Bleh!!!}} He starts nuzzling on your neck excitably. {{Amber-fields, I am so excited!}} he chirps happily. {{Blunt-snout and I have been talking all morning, and it turns out we're a whole lot alike. He originally studied for the same occupation that I am interested in, but when the war got too real, he eventually had to join the rank-and-file warriors at the front lines. Even so, he has taught me more in one morning than I ever learned in my regular studies!}}
Every time Dizzy-tail nudges you, though, you find bolts of pain shooting down from your head, and you feel horribly nauseous. {{Don't do that,}} you complain miserably. You muster a smile, though. {{I'm glad at least you guys are getting along, though.}}
Dizzy-tail goes stiff-legged and sniffs on you like a concerned hound as he realizes you are not quite entirely well. {{You're sick,}} he observes.
You think of shaking your head in the negative, but then you think better of it. {{No. Not quite. I think that that soup of Blunt's was actually some sort of beer.}}
{{What's that?}} Dizzy-tail asks.
{{Something you're too young to drink}} you say firmly. {{This is horrible, though. My first chance to drink a beer, and I get a dragon-size hangover.}}
A roar and a hiss comes as Blunt-snout struts in. {{Alright, green one, get up!}} he commands.
Dizzy-tail leaps to your defense again, hissing. {{He's sick, Blunt! Sick! Is this concept really that alien to you, you feeble-minded, old scutter? He needs rest! Don't you see that?}}
Blunt-snout shakes his head with a smile. {{No,}} he says with unusual gentleness, for the first time taking a genuinely fatherly sort of tone with you. {{Come on, now; get on up. Lying there feeling sorry for yourself will only make it worse, Amber-fields. Trust me this one time, and then I promise your hazing will be concluded for a while.}}
You stumble shakily to your feet, and in spite of the fact that the movement brings on waves of nausea, you really do reckon that your overall allotment of misery is slightly lessened by having the promise of something to do besides lying there dwelling on it. {{You got me hungover,}} you accuse him.
{{You got yourself hungover}} Blunt-snout retorts dryly. {{I said to sip between bites of your food. You were gulping that stuff down, and you're suffering your richly deserved consequences.}} He softens his tone again, and he continues, {{don't worry, though: old Blunt will take care of you. First, let's get you some of last night's dessert. It might have saved you from hurting this badly to begin with if you had gotten more on your stomach.}}
You are led to the dining area of the stable, where you find a small pile of mashed-up offal lying on a giant slab of some sort of rock. Back in your human life, you would have found the concoction to be the least appetizing thing that you could possibly imagine, but since becoming a dragon, you have begun to expand your horizons a bit. Come to think of it, it looks a little bit like a sort of pudding, almost. Fighting through your nausea, you manage to take a dragon-size bite of the stuff, and surprisingly enough, you find it quite to your liking. It's dripping with fat, mildly sweet, and pleasant to chew.
To your dismay, though, Blunt-snout ushers you away from your feast before you can make a meal of it. {{Not too much at one time}} he cautions. {{Let's get you over to the cistern, and what we're going to do is get you some fresh water and then let you rest for a few minutes...and then repeat. Listen to old Blunt-snout!}}
After a couple of hours of taking progressively smaller bites followed by smaller draughts of water and then resting for longer periods in-between, you find that the hangover really has been somewhat eased, and while you are hardly in your top form, you feel like some work a little bit lighter than flying lessons might help you feel better. You decide...