Salacity

From parts unknown.



Salacity always found that the last pitiful, feeble cry of his latest meal was the most satisfying. It added a special spice to his meal. He let the carcass of the webwing fall from his jaws, giving his surroundings a suspicious look.

Didn't seem like anyone would be swooping in to steal his meal. Excellent. He'd learned a long time ago not to take the plague lands for granted.

Crunch. Crunch.

Once he'd finished, the mirror ran his tongue along his jagged teeth, savoring the taste. Out here in the wastes, food was scarce, but the competition was even scarcer. Salacity hadn't seen another dragon for days now, although maybe the Plaguebringer's children naturally preferred the day? He always made sure to hunt during the night and seek shelter in the day, the way he'd been raised in the shadow lands. It was one of the many habits he'd brought with him that was proving useful in his new home.

"Enjoying yourself, little savage?"

The cold voice caught Salacity by surprise; he cursed inwardly at himself for getting distracted, and turned to see a jet black dragon gazing back at him. She stood tall on two legs, and wore a black helmet along with the ragged remains of a cloak. Salacity's eyes narrowed, and he snarled. Wildclaw. Not good.

"You're asking for trouble if you keep snapping your jaws in other peoples' hunting grounds." the wildclaw mused.

"I'm the one hunting, so I guess they're my hunting grounds." Salacity shot back. He heard a scoff come from inside her helmet, and inadvertently took a step back as she advanced towards him.

"You say that now, but just wait until tomorrow. There's a very nasty clan just over the next hill, and if I were you, I'd introduce yourself to the Sharp Lady - before you meet while she's hungry."