Here's the chapter so far.
Spoiler! :
The great wave of hissing fire swept across the prairie, eating everything in its path. In its wake was nothing, but smoking black waste. Red hot flames bounded through the prairie, snapping hungrily at the dragon’s wings as they sped towards the mountains. If only they could reach the rocks, then they’d be safe. With Shriken’s weight dragging them down, they were going much slower and lower than normal. They were in danger of the flames catching up with them as the fire whipped through the dry grass.
Zoltar’s wings ached from the extra weight and the flames behind him were molten hot.
The smoke and heat were starting to cloud his senses and the remains of the Fangtar’s sleep gas wasn’t helping. Beside him, Felistia with panting. Blood streaked her silver scales and deep gashes covered her whole body.
One of the fingers of flame brushed against Zoltar’s pounding wings and he roared in pain as fierce heat surged up his shoulder. Clinching his talons, he beat his wings faster, gasping from the effort. The lacerations along his scales burned like acid with ever stroke.
Finally after what seemed like hours of flying flat out, they reached the safety of the mountain slopes. Zoltar immediately landed, his body thudding against the bare rock. The release of Shriken’s weight was blissful and he sighed with relief. Felistia sank to the ground, breathing heavily. The flames crackled angrily behind them, but he knew that they couldn’t reach them.
After taking a few minutes to catch his breath, Zoltar remembered Shriken. The young Ice Talon was lying still as stone beside him. Felistia seemed to have fallen asleep with exhaustion and hadn’t remembered her brother yet. Now in the light of the new dawn, Zoltar could see the extent of the damage across Shriken’s scales. He no longer was the silvery white of an Ice Talon, but was a deep crimson red, streaked with black soot marks.
Zoltar checked for signs of breathing, but to his alarm, he could find none. Shriken lay unmoving, a pool of blood starting to form around him and Zoltar realized that he was dead. Mixed emotions started to swirl through his head and he didn’t quite know how to feel. He had known that Shriken would most likely die after his rescue from the Fangtar, but he’d never really accepted it. He’d always hoped against hopes as he’d flown over the prairie fire that the young dragon would survive. Now with the Ice Talon dead at his feet, he felt strangely ashamed. If only he’d pushed him to fly a bit longer yesterday, then Shriken would still be alive.
He looked over at Felistia, who was still oblivious to the tragic happening. How was she going to react? Would she blame him and attack him? Zoltar didn’t know. His stomach was in knots and cold chills run down his back spines. His mind kept playing over what he could have done differently to prevent this from happening. He eventually came to the conclusion that Shriken had just been too young for the quest and had just gotten life’s bad draw. At least he’d died fighting and with honour. Now he could ascend to the stars where all dragons went when they died.
He felt Felistia stir beside him and braced himself for what he knew was coming. Her golden eyes flickered open and she groaned. The lashes along her body were crusted in dry blood and the rips in her wings were savage. She lay still for another minute or two as she coxed herself to move her burning limbs. Finally with a roar of pain she got to her paws. A flash of realization crossed he face and she looked back in the direction of Shriken. The young Ice Talon was a pitiful sight and just a glance would have shown anyone that he was gone. A choking sob escaped her throat. Zoltar remained silent as she ran over to her brother. She ignored the pool of blood around him and threw her wings over him. Tears streamed down her snout in steady rivers. Her great sides heaved with heart wrenching howls.
Zoltar’s heart ached to see her, but there wasn’t anything he could do. Silent tears burned his eyes as he watch Felistia’s pain.
“No Shriken no,” she cried over and over again, her breathing ragged. Lifting her blood streaked face, she roared her pain to the rising sun long and hard for her heart was broken.
At last, after half an hour of sobbing, Felistia reluctantly lifted her head from her brother’s back. Her once glowing yellow eyes were blood shot with the tears. She stumbled over Zoltar and without a word, curled under his wing like a small dragonet and burst into a fresh stream of cries. He wrapped his obsidian wings around her, holding her tight as her heart wept. They remained that way for the rest of the day.
After many long hours the cold evening drew near and the fierce sun started to set. Vivid rivers of crimson red and violet whipped across the darkening sky. Like a great ball of fire the sun disappeared below the blackened plains and the first of the stars started to shine in the night. The two moons where full, casting their cool light across Shriken scales so that he once again look silver.
Both Zoltar and Felistia stood with their wings spread over him. At the stroke of midnight when the last of the stars shimmered into view, they began the ancient dragon dance of ascent. Waving their wings back and forth in a wave like motion, the moon light rippling off their scales, they swept up the dust. It swirled through the air in a delicate cloud as the dragons below twirled, sweeping their wings towards the heavens. Silver talons flashed as they swayed their arms in rhythm to the stars’ song.
Shriken started to gleam and sparkle a brilliant gold and burst into a cloud of sparks. The shimmering mist climbed higher and higher into the night sky as the dance continued unbroken like the flow of the tides. Finally it seemed to dissolve into the very stars themselves and gave a final twinkle before disappearing. Zoltar and Felistia did on last graceful turn and ended the dance by bowing their wings over where Shriken had lain.
Zoltar’s wings ached from the extra weight and the flames behind him were molten hot.
The smoke and heat were starting to cloud his senses and the remains of the Fangtar’s sleep gas wasn’t helping. Beside him, Felistia with panting. Blood streaked her silver scales and deep gashes covered her whole body.
One of the fingers of flame brushed against Zoltar’s pounding wings and he roared in pain as fierce heat surged up his shoulder. Clinching his talons, he beat his wings faster, gasping from the effort. The lacerations along his scales burned like acid with ever stroke.
Finally after what seemed like hours of flying flat out, they reached the safety of the mountain slopes. Zoltar immediately landed, his body thudding against the bare rock. The release of Shriken’s weight was blissful and he sighed with relief. Felistia sank to the ground, breathing heavily. The flames crackled angrily behind them, but he knew that they couldn’t reach them.
After taking a few minutes to catch his breath, Zoltar remembered Shriken. The young Ice Talon was lying still as stone beside him. Felistia seemed to have fallen asleep with exhaustion and hadn’t remembered her brother yet. Now in the light of the new dawn, Zoltar could see the extent of the damage across Shriken’s scales. He no longer was the silvery white of an Ice Talon, but was a deep crimson red, streaked with black soot marks.
Zoltar checked for signs of breathing, but to his alarm, he could find none. Shriken lay unmoving, a pool of blood starting to form around him and Zoltar realized that he was dead. Mixed emotions started to swirl through his head and he didn’t quite know how to feel. He had known that Shriken would most likely die after his rescue from the Fangtar, but he’d never really accepted it. He’d always hoped against hopes as he’d flown over the prairie fire that the young dragon would survive. Now with the Ice Talon dead at his feet, he felt strangely ashamed. If only he’d pushed him to fly a bit longer yesterday, then Shriken would still be alive.
He looked over at Felistia, who was still oblivious to the tragic happening. How was she going to react? Would she blame him and attack him? Zoltar didn’t know. His stomach was in knots and cold chills run down his back spines. His mind kept playing over what he could have done differently to prevent this from happening. He eventually came to the conclusion that Shriken had just been too young for the quest and had just gotten life’s bad draw. At least he’d died fighting and with honour. Now he could ascend to the stars where all dragons went when they died.
He felt Felistia stir beside him and braced himself for what he knew was coming. Her golden eyes flickered open and she groaned. The lashes along her body were crusted in dry blood and the rips in her wings were savage. She lay still for another minute or two as she coxed herself to move her burning limbs. Finally with a roar of pain she got to her paws. A flash of realization crossed he face and she looked back in the direction of Shriken. The young Ice Talon was a pitiful sight and just a glance would have shown anyone that he was gone. A choking sob escaped her throat. Zoltar remained silent as she ran over to her brother. She ignored the pool of blood around him and threw her wings over him. Tears streamed down her snout in steady rivers. Her great sides heaved with heart wrenching howls.
Zoltar’s heart ached to see her, but there wasn’t anything he could do. Silent tears burned his eyes as he watch Felistia’s pain.
“No Shriken no,” she cried over and over again, her breathing ragged. Lifting her blood streaked face, she roared her pain to the rising sun long and hard for her heart was broken.
At last, after half an hour of sobbing, Felistia reluctantly lifted her head from her brother’s back. Her once glowing yellow eyes were blood shot with the tears. She stumbled over Zoltar and without a word, curled under his wing like a small dragonet and burst into a fresh stream of cries. He wrapped his obsidian wings around her, holding her tight as her heart wept. They remained that way for the rest of the day.
After many long hours the cold evening drew near and the fierce sun started to set. Vivid rivers of crimson red and violet whipped across the darkening sky. Like a great ball of fire the sun disappeared below the blackened plains and the first of the stars started to shine in the night. The two moons where full, casting their cool light across Shriken scales so that he once again look silver.
Both Zoltar and Felistia stood with their wings spread over him. At the stroke of midnight when the last of the stars shimmered into view, they began the ancient dragon dance of ascent. Waving their wings back and forth in a wave like motion, the moon light rippling off their scales, they swept up the dust. It swirled through the air in a delicate cloud as the dragons below twirled, sweeping their wings towards the heavens. Silver talons flashed as they swayed their arms in rhythm to the stars’ song.
Shriken started to gleam and sparkle a brilliant gold and burst into a cloud of sparks. The shimmering mist climbed higher and higher into the night sky as the dance continued unbroken like the flow of the tides. Finally it seemed to dissolve into the very stars themselves and gave a final twinkle before disappearing. Zoltar and Felistia did on last graceful turn and ended the dance by bowing their wings over where Shriken had lain.
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