“I have to. I refuse to die with this stupid spear sticking out of my leg.”
She nuzzled his cheek and stood, releasing his claws. He watched her walk off down a passage. And, a few seconds later, he watched several dragons covered in fur from head to claw silently follow right behind her.
Addolgar opened his snout to warn her, but one of the dragons stopped, focused on him, and waved a single talon at him.
At that point, all Addolgar could do was wait. As far as he was concerned, it was the strangers’ funeral pyre because he knew what they would be facing.
Braith hadn’t gotten far from where she’d left Addolgar when she knew that someone was behind her. She sensed the presence because she heard nothing. Felt only the air move as a weapon was brought down toward her.
She followed her instincts and dropped into a crouch, spun with her tail lashing wildly behind her. The one right behind her was tossed onto her back, blue hair tumbling out from under a fur cape, bright green eyes glaring up at Braith. The female never lost her weapon, though. Nor was she alone. There were three others. All young, female, armed, and ready to fight.
Then again, so was Braith.
She reared back and raised her fists. The four females glanced at each other, then dropped their weapons, tossed off their capes, reared back, and raised their fists.
Grinning, Braith nodded—and threw the first punch.
Addolgar heard the familiar sounds of a brawl and opened his eyes to see Braith tossed out of the passage. But she got back to her claws and was ready when the first She-dragon ran at her. Then another. And another. Four altogether attacking Braith. Yet . . . she didn’t seem to mind. She seemed to be having fun. In fact, if he didn’t know better . . . he’d think she’d forgotten about him completely.
She caught a wrist, twisted, and caught a back claw aimed for her face. She yanked both in the opposite direction, and still managed to block a tail to the neck, and a fist to the spine.
Even bleeding to death, Addolgar was impressed.
Braith unleashed her wings and went up to the ceiling holding on to a tail and a fist. Using her wings, she spun in the air, taking the She-dragons with her, and dropped them when she had some speed. Both She-dragons went flying, and Braith landed hard on the ground, panting and grinning—until she saw Addolgar. And the way her grin faded, Addolgar realized something....
“Piss and shit . . . she did forget all about me.”
Gods! What had she done! The only dragon she’d ever wanted to be with and she’d forgotten he was out here . . . dying! Because she had a chance to brawl against She-dragons just as strong and ridiculous as she was!
She was horrible! She was a horrible, horrible She-dragon! She wasn’t even a dragon. No. At this moment, she was like a human. A worthless, pathetic, weak human! Her mother would be so ashamed!
Well . . . her mum would be ashamed of how she’d forgotten about poor Addolgar. But her mother wouldn’t be ashamed of the way Braith slammed her back claw down, catching hold of the tail trying to trip her to the floor while she was busy worrying about poor Addolgar.
Braith reached down, grabbed that tail, and began to ram the She-dragon it was attached to against the cave wall until a voice bellowed out, “What in all of damnation is going on here!”
Startled, Braith released the tail and the She-dragon she’d been battering and faced that bellowing voice.
Another blue She-dragon. Older. Green eyes widening at the sight of Braith.
“Gods. Braith? Little Braith?”
“Hello, Aunt Crystin,” Braith greeted.
Beside her, one of her cousins stood, looked Braith over, and demanded of Crystin, “Little?”
Indignant, Braith glowered at the She-dragon and demanded, “Throwing boulders from that glass cave are we?”
Kin. Now he understood. They were all kin. He could see it now that the fur capes were off and he had nearly ten She-dragons with blue hair, wide shoulders, and startling green eyes, staring intently at him.
“I think he’s already dead,” one of the younger ones observed.
“He is not dead,” Braith snapped.
“Everyone calm down.” An older one carefully examined his wounded leg. “This spear nicked an artery.” She glanced at Braith. “You were smart not to remove this.”
“I was hoping I’d made the right decision. He was in so much pain.”
“He looks familiar to my eyes,” another older She-dragon noted. “Do we know him?”
“He’s Addolgar the Cheerful,” Braith answered. “Of the Cadwaladr Clan.”
The one called Crystin gasped. “Gods. One of Ailean’s offspring?”
Then, in unison, the four older She-dragons sighed out, “Ailean.”
Braith’s back straightened, understanding the smile on her older kin’s faces far too well.
“All of you?” she asked. Actually, it was more a demand.
“Not all at the same time,” the one examining his wound stated. “That would have been wrong.”
“And disgusting,” one of the younger ones muttered.
“He looks quite a bit like his father,” another older one stated. “In the face. Similar snout. Don’t you think, Crystin?”
“I do. But there was just something about that dragon, wasn’t there, sister? Something . . . delicious.”
“You know my father’s not dead, Mum?” one of the younger ones complained. “He may not be here, but you could at least show a bit of respect around his favorite daughter.”