A few degrees later, Mial comes out and flops down next to Finnah's picnic blanket.
"So. Miracles," he says, sounding bizarrely glum about it.
"Okay, yes," he acknowledges, half-smiling, "miracles, miracles are awesome. I am happy for everybody who's been happily miracled and downright ecstatic for the babies. I just... look, you have to have some inkling by now of how I feel about being a shren, right?"
He takes a breath.
"...I don't know if I'm going to want one."
"Yes, really. I. Look. I don't really care that much about whether or not I can fly in my natural form," he says. "Racing scoots is more than enough for me. It'd be nice, but so would being a unique, you know? And between the two I'd go for being a unique first, no question. So... the only reasons to stop being a shren are the chance I might infect somebody, and purely to stop being a shren. And there's no fucking way I'm going to do it purely to stop being a shren. All that's left is contagion, and... and I don't know, Finnah. I just don't fucking know."
"Yeah," he says quietly. "Fuck, does it ever. But that's just it, don't you see? I can't let it win. If I stop being a shren just to get away from that, I'm letting it win."
"I know, it must come as such a shock." He sighs. "Anyway. I'll think about it, I guess. Until they show up. Whenever that is. Just... don't be surprised if I say no."
"That's the only reason I haven't yet decided to say no," he says. "And... I mean... if these people don't mean to just leave all the future striped eggs in the lurch, their miracles must be renewable, right? So - even if I lose a form, even if I lose a form around a dragon in their natural form - it's not nearly as bad as it could've been. I'm keeping the extra safety spells on my scoot, mind you. I'm not going to be careless about it."