It was evening. Ebony flew on, but his wings ached and were stiff from his constant flight. 

Thankfully, the sun's rays had lessened slowly as it dropped in the sky, and, now that it was completely gone, the heat was almost bearable. The moonshine seemed to feel cool on his black scales. Or maybe it was just psychological.

I'm going to have to stop for the night, Ebony thought, breathing raggedly. His lungs burned from the harsh, dry air, and his muscles were going to lock up soon. He had hoped to fly on throughout the night, when it was far cooler, but if he tried Ebony knew he'd kill himself. He angled his wings and landed smoothly on the still-warm sand. Ebony let out a long breath, helping himself to the canteen he had filled in the jungle.

While he had hoped for more progress, he hadn't done badly. After all, there was always the chance that Dertharion had lost time somewhere, or had gotten overwhelmed by the heat. 

Good riddance, he thought before he could stop himself. Ebony waited to feel guilty for such a terrible sentiment. Nothing came to mind, so he smacked himself on the forehead. 

All he did was steal something. That's not worthy of death, he told himself. Stop being so horrible.

Why do you maintain your facade of virtue? a discordant thought replied. Nobody's watching.

Unconsciously, Ebony glanced upward. Whether or not someone is watching isn't the point, he thought, almost angrily. It's about what's right, and I want to do what's right! 

Where were these vile feelings coming from? he wondered, feeling sick. Am I really such a bad leader? Such a bad dragon? 

Oh, don't worry. You're not so bad. If you saw Dertharion was close to death, you'd run over and save him. Again. Risking everyone. Again. His mind laughed mockingly.

Ebony, sickened, did not answer himself. He coiled into a tight ball and tried to sleep.