Chaarix is in the middle of a bath when she receives the summons. One of her father's messengers delivers it, calling her the short way back to the place of her birth. It rankled her a little. Even though she was still young, she had worked, in her mind, harder than anyone to expand beyond her father's claws and overbearing nature. She had moved as far away as he would let her, establishing her own home in a small cave a little ways off from his. Still, she was in no position to refuse such a direct request. And she was very glad she didn't!

She hadn't know it was possible TO wound the great wyrm! That a group of the tiny humanoids had done so leaves her in a slight state of shock. This opened up a few possibilities the likes of which she had only dreamed. Succeed here and defeat them where Chenizir had failed, and, well, the future was full of opportunity. Still, if these humanoids could not be underestimated. They clearly possessed the means to wound a dragon far older and with much tougher scales than hers. Already, the beginnings of plots and plans began to play through her mind. Not necessarily good ones, but plots nonetheless. But first, she had to officially accept this quest.

Seeking to avoid mere parroting of Morlun's words, Chaarix replies, "Their names and their deeds will be remembered only as tales of woe and caution told by the two-legged races."