"Merlin, tell me you remembered to put fuel in the plane!" Arthur shouted as they ran for their lives with a hundred angry Druids blasting spells at their heels.

Merlin was huffing and puffing under the weight of his pack full of ancient magic artifacts that would soon be gracing the displays of the Camelot Museum -- if they lived to get them there. "Don't worry, I can do better than that!"

"Better than a plane?" Arthur screeched, grabbing at his hat as they skidded to a stop at the edge of the cliff. He turned around with his pistol at the ready -- but the Druids had turned tail and were running away.

Wait, why were they running away?

Merlin just grinned as the dragon settled on edge of the cliff.

"Right," Arthur said when he could close his mouth again. "I concede the point this once."