Example Words: Brood, Toxic, Chaos
Shoveling the last of the wyvern dung into the wheelbarrow, Elane blew out a breath that ruffled her bangs. Her sweat matted hair had escaped the wrap she’d used to tie it back and now it tickled the back of her neck. Considering that her gloves were smeared with wyvern dung, Elane was resigned to the irritation until she could steal a moment to clean up a little. She paused when she heard the distinctive clank of the main gate starting to rise, and groaned in frustration. Whatever chance she had of cleaning up, none-the-less snagging an early lunch from the kitchen was gone now.
Stepping out of the small cave, Elane set her shovel aside to avoid anyone tripping over it. Having nearly ended up face first in a pile of wyvern dung her first week at Black Rock thanks to an unattended shovel, it was something she usually made a point of being careful about. It never hurt to be careful when dealing with wyverns.
Crossing the large cavern, Elane headed for the rising gate, ignoring the various hisses of displeasure from each of the enclosures, all natural caves that had been fitted with steel doors to keep the wyverns inside contained. Seeing Kern in discussion with what looked to be a Rider, judging from the wyvern leathers Elane slowed her pace, but continued to make her way over.
“...With no warning,” she heard as she got closer. Kern’s jaw was clenched tight with the force of his frustration, pulling the shiny skin of his scar tight across his cheekbone and temple.
“We were en-route to the Peak when we got word that the roads were flooded.” To give the Rider credit, he wasn’t displaying any of the typical condescension that most Riders affected when talking to anyone who wasn’t a fellow Rider. “Normally I would try to push through, but the feral we’re transporting has already proven more vicious than most and I can’t say for sure that the wagon could hold her if we tried to wait it out anywhere else.”
“Be that as it may, I don’t know if we have any enclosures available for your feral.” Seeing her walk up, Kern gestured for her to come closer. “Elane, Ser Adrian has a feral he needs confined until the road dries out after last night’s storm. Do we have any enclosures available?”
Elane glanced at Kern, then at Ser Adrian. “You’re in luck. I just finished cleaning one out. It’s former occupant has gone back to the front so it’s yours if you need it.”
Ser Adrian didn’t actually sag with relief, but it was obvious that if he weren’t trying to maintain the necessary decorum, he would have. “The gods be praised. If we were forced to continue I’m sure I would have had a mutiny on my hands.” His jaw firmed as he glanced back over his shoulder, where several soldiers waited, none of them doing a good job of concealing how uneasy they were surrounded by wyvern enclosures.
Well, that explained that then. Riders might think themselves better than the average citizen, but even a wyvern hostler was better than a scared soldier. At least a hostler knew how to deal with a wyvern. The most they ever taught soldiers was how to stay out of biting range while on the battlefield.
Not that it worked all the time.
Ser Adrian gestured at the soldiers. “Bring the feral inside. We’ll wait here until the road dries out,” he called.
Not bothering to conceal their relief the soldiers saluted and ran out to the wagon. As they waited Elane seized the moment to consider Ser Adrian’s wyvern mount. It was clearly a male judging from the spines that grew from the crown of its head to the base of its long neck. The bright copper scales that developed a blue tint from chin to belly was something she had never seen before, but it was common for the males to sport various colors.
The males had the spines and the vibrant colors meant to attract attention. The females had much more drab colors, muted greys and browns, and spat a caustic venom that was considered one of the most toxic fluids this side of the Alirean Sea. It was far more common for wyvern mounts to be male, while females were generally reserved for times of war where specially trained handlers would ride them as an elite division of the cavalry. Nothing struck fear into the hearts of the enemy faster than the furious shriek of a female wyvern, followed by a stream of venom known to melt the flesh off a man’s bones in a handful of minutes.
Since the soldiers were taking their time bringing the wagon, Elane took a few steps closer to Ser Adrian and gestured at his wyvern. “What’s his name?”
She took it as another point in his favor when he smiled automatically as he looked up at the male wyvern. “This is Cladius. We’ve been paired up for almost five years now.” He chuckled and reached up to thump an open hand against a scaled shoulder. “For the entire first year I was convinced he was sizing me up to find the perfect place to take a bite. But I guess he decided I wasn’t worth the effort.”
“Sounds about right,” Elane agreed. “Mind if I take a look at him?”
Rather than give an immediate affirmative, Ser Adrian hesitated. “Is there a reason you need to? He was checked over by my unit’s hostler before we left so as far as I know he is as healthy as a wyvern gets.”
Elane floundered around the explanation that she simply wanted to look at him. That he was a gorgeous wyvern and she wanted to see what she could pick out from his breeding. Luckily, Kern answered Ser Adrian for her.
“Her family breeds wyverns,” Kern said, looking Cladius over himself with expert appraisal. “She’s probably forgotten more things about the beasts than you’ve ever learned.”
Elane bit her tongue around the correction that her family ‘used’ to breed wyverns.
Rather than get offended Ser Adrian looked intrigued. “Is that so? In that case go ahead.” He continued with a sheepish air, “If you do spot anything problematic can you let me know? I trust our hostler Aldric about as far as I can throw him. Enough to get the job done, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to turn down a second opinion.”
Suddenly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation, Elane nodded. “Sure. I doubt I’ll see anything, Cladius seems to be in prime condition but I’ll check just in case.”
Taking a step forward, Elane let out a short whistle, followed by a quick tongue roll that was the closest a human could get to mimicking the typical wyvern’s friendly greeting. It was generally used with blood relatives since wyverns lived in matriarchal packs, with the dominant female, or Queen, ruling the others with sharp teeth and quick sprays of venom that kept the others in line. It was seeing their clan structures that first gave someone the idea that wyverns could be trained to work with humans.
Cladius startled at the sound of her greeting, but didn’t hiss or mantle his wings. He cocked his head with obvious interest and returned the trill, lowering his head to get a better look at her. Must have come from a breeder then if he recognized the sound of a human trying to mimic the wyvern’s call. He remained calm when she took a step closer so she felt safe enough to blow out a quick breath aimed at his face. A wyvern’s sense of smell was one of their most vital, and gave him a chance to get her scent without doing something stupid like waving a hand in his face. She’d seen some idiot trainers do that, but only the once.
When Cladius’ nostrils flared and he continued to remain passive, if curious, Elane finally stepped in close. Clicking under her tongue she ran light hands along the spines at the crown of his head, scratching her nails at the base of the largest. It wasn’t long before there was a low rumbling that could almost be called a purr, if a cat stood almost seventeen hands at the shoulder and sported two inch claws on all four feet. Once he was properly soothed and she had clarified he wouldn’t see her as a threat, she looked him over.
His scales were smooth, almost slick beneath her fingers. Only a few areas had the telltale rough spots that hinted at future shedding. The bone spurs at his elbows, ankles, and knees were capped with sharp tips, when she tested the one at his left elbow she felt it shift beneath the pressure of her fingers. Frowning she looked closer at the others, but it was just the one that felt loose. His eyes were bright and clean around the edges, his ears had almost no scarring. The scales on Cladius’ face were pristine.
Elane hesitated in her inspection when she came upon the control collar. It wasn’t the monstrosity she’d seen on some wyverns, which were little more than thick spell chains that never failed to crush the small scales along the neck and throat. This one was leather with a single shaped ruby stitched into place. When she checked the edges she was relieved to see that there weren’t any crushed scales or bruising, and Cladius didn’t shy away at letting her touch it.
It was good to know that he didn’t associate it with pain.
“You don’t use the control collar.” Elane didn’t look at Ser Adrian, not wanting to see the look on his face.
“No, Cladius and I get along well.” There was a pause before he continued with, “He wouldn’t have one at all if I had it my way, but the army can’t risk losing control of a wyvern, so...the collars.”
Looking at the simple black leather and the glint of the ruby made Elane want to grind her teeth. So many times she’d seen the collars in action, the way the runes lit up bright enough to sear across her vision even when she closed her eyes. The way the wyverns always screamed in pain, writhing and scratching at their neck and shoulders until they bled or the pain finally ended.
While she understood why the collars made people feel safer, Elane knew through experience that no one who truly understood how to interact with wyverns needed one of those blasted collars. Growing up on a wyvern breeding farm, Elane had started learning the basics of what to do when she was only knee-high. She watched her grandfather and her father, and had worked alongside her sisters as they sought to truly understand the fierce creatures. They were predators without a doubt, but they weren’t mindless and to think of them as just animals with sharp teeth and claws, that was the true mistake.
It had been her lifelong dream to become a Rider and had even begun the rudimentary training with one of their young wyverns. Normally she would have joined the Royal Wyvern corps and been given a wyvern once she proved she could survive the training, but for those with the means they were allowed to provide their own ‘mount’ as long as the beast passed inspection by the royal stables.
But then the war had happened and the king sent out a decree that let the corps seize all eligible wyverns from any private breeding farms that didn’t have the means or connections to protect themselves.
When the king’s men had come, they’d forced those blasted collars on all of the wyverns she’d grown up with and raised, and dragged them shrieking and snarling out of her life. Elane and her sisters had promptly joined the king’s service amongst the Wyvern Corps. They had little hope of finding their wyverns, but if they could, they could at least try and make sure they were treated right.
Risel was a Rider herself now, after two years of training. Lida was still training to be a Rider. They were boarded at the same training hall, which had been a boon none of them had expected. They wrote letters back and forth, and in all of them there was always the unspoken question; had anyone seen their wyverns?
Elane hadn’t had the heart to try for a Rider position, not when the only wyvern she’d ever wanted to ride was long gone, stolen out of her life and thrown into the grinding maw of war. She looked at the control collar around Cladius’ neck and it broke her heart to realize that it was the best case scenario for all the wyverns that had been taken. Better they have a collar than being put down and ‘harvested’. After all, wyvern hide was one of the best protections against the venom the females possessed.
Once she finished her inspection and confirmed the wyvern was in good health, Elane gave Cladius one last firm rub to the sensitive skin just beneath his jaw. He trilled and extended his neck to urge her on, eyes falling half-lidded when she obliged him by dragging her nails along the ridge where the scales started to form armor just under his jaw. It was the pressure she was applying to the scales more than the actual scratching the wyvern was looking for. She knew those scales tended to be the most sensitive before a molt, and judging from the way Cladius was pressing his head down into her hand she assumed he was close to starting.
When she finally stepped away Cladius heaved a sigh before standing straight once more, as if resigned to the limited attention. She thumped him on the shoulder with a laugh. “Don’t even try it. If your Rider doesn’t personally scrub you down once you start to molt I’ll be surprised.” She glanced at Ser Adrian, who was watching her with a keen attention that made her smile start to dim.
He waited for a moment before nodding. “I do handle his molt. I was told it was normally something left for the hostlers to take care of, but I insisted.” Ser Adrian flicked a glance between Elane and Cladius. “He is my partner. He deserves no less.”
Elane bit back the comment about that being a rather rare opinion amongst the Riders. “He is in excellent health,” she said instead. “He is about to start his molt so I would keep an eye on that, he might start getting irritable once the itching starts but I’m assuming you know how to deal with that. I would suggest getting the cap for the spur on his left foreleg replaced. It felt loose when I tested it and it will only serve to irritate him.”
Ser Adrian considered her for a weighty moment before nodding. “Thank you. My unit’s hostler didn’t seem to notice it.”
Elane shrugged. “It's a habit for me to check. It’s nothing urgent so I wouldn’t be too hard on your man.”
“If he didn’t notice, I would say he didn’t do a thorough enough check.” Kern looked Cladius up and down before turning to Ser Adrian. “While you are here we’ll look over the rest of your unit.” His expression darkened. “And I think I’ll have a chat with the hostler attached to your unit.”
Ser Adrian was saved from confirming or denying Kern’s offer when there was the low grind of the wagon approaching. As the wagon and the rest of its escort rolled in beneath the raised gate, Elane briefly considered letting Ser Adrian know that Kern’s offer wasn’t so much an offer as it was a declaration. Just the suggestion of a lazy hostler was enough to get Kern’s back up, and if it was just inexperience, well, that could be just as deadly if not more so for a unit meant to go into battle. Kern did not beat around the bush when it came to the safety of wyverns and everyone who interacted with them.
Elane figured however he’d gotten that scar was serving as a vivid reminder of how badly some things could go wrong.
The sound of the wagon and the rustle of the nearby wyverns as they paced inside their enclosures was drowned out by the furious shriek of an enraged wyvern. The ear shredding pitch it reached at the end made even Elane wince and she didn’t think twice about snagging Cladius’ lead and coaxing him over to Ser Adrian. The Rider was already stepping closer and he barely blinked when Elane was able to direct Cladius closer.
“He’s fairly used to the racket by now,” Ser Adrian admitted, but he did make a point of taking the lead and drawing Cladius head down so he could rub underneath his chin.
Elane noted how Cladius was dragging his hind claws through the loose dirt and that his crest spines were elevated but not yet rattling. “I can see that.” She stared askance at the wagon and the enraged feral it contained. There was another shriek and Elane winced, reflexively glancing at the surrounding enclosures set into the walls. No answering calls yet, but it would only be a matter of time before the rest of the wyverns started reacting.
“You didn’t mention the feral was female.” Elane said, making a point to keep all censure out of her tone. Ser Adrian had seemed a strangely friendly sort for a Rider, but Elane wasn’t going to forget that he was a Rider. Not even the most laid-back would usually tolerate a simple hostler questioning them.
“I did not and for that I am sorry.” Ser Adrian gestured to the wagon and the skittish horses that had been coaxed forward. “But as you can see I don’t have any other options. The horses will not pull the wagon much further and with the coming storm I cannot afford to have the wagon break down on the road.” There was another shriek and then a sharp hiss that Elane knew down to her bones. Every Rider and hostler learned to recognise the sound of a female in a feral rage. Considering it was usually followed by the wyvern unleashing her venom, it was a matter of life and death to recognize the signs.
Eying the cage built into the back of the wagon, Elane doubted the wyvern would use her venom even in the grips of a feral rage. The enclosure was made out of solid wood and judging from the sheen that covered it, coated in enough reinforcement spells that they could probably dip the entire thing in a pool of wyvern venom and it would only sink to the bottom as if submerged in water. Wyvern females weren’t immune to the caustic properties of their own venom, leading to impressive scarring and warped scales around their faces and neck amongst the older beasts. Even as enraged as this female sounded, spitting her venom in the cage would only serve to cause herself harm.
The cage was reinforced, but the wagon beneath it was not. Elane could see why Ser Adrian had been so adamant about finding a place to hole up and rest his men. It would give them a break from the raging feral and hopefully keep from fouling the wagon wheels in the muddy, pitted roads. If the wagon did founder, they would be trapped on the open road with a feral wyvern. Considering the spells reinforcing the cage were no doubt anchored in the wagon itself, it would only be a matter of time before she broke out and turned on them.
It was a nasty situation all around and Elane’s respect for Ser Adrian increased considering how deftly he had managed to navigate the situation into the best possible outcome.
Considering the wagon and the reinforced cage with its still hissing captive, Elane pressed her lips together. “How long has this wyvern been feral?”
When a wyvern turned feral it was even odds whether the beast would be put down and harvested or carted off to the nearest stable in the hope it could still be used as a breeder. Any stable would leap at the chance to bring in some fresh blood but it was always a risk. Feral wyverns were just as likely to savage their intended mates as actually breed with them.
Ser Adrian hesitated long enough to earn a raised brow before he said, “As far as I know this one has always been a feral.”
Elane raised both eyebrows now, truly shocked. “She was born wild?”
“No, from what I was told she was born on a farm, but went feral shortly after she was brought in to the Corps,” Ser Adrian said. He hesitated again before saying, “She’s too aggressive to breed and would have been put down except she has some of the most potent venom we’ve ever seen.”
“Ah,” Elane said, understanding his reserve. It was dangerous to try on a feral but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility to harvest wyvern venom. It wasn’t something she ever learned to do on her grandfather’s training farm since harvesting venom could cause the wyvern’s body to react by creating more than was healthy. They were still learning more about the wyverns every day it seemed and the drawback to the magic laced through their bodies was how sensitive and reactive they were. What made them clever and deadly mounts also made them somewhat delicate and they had to be handled carefully.
Not that the Corps as a whole truly understood that, much to Elane’s continued frustration.
“So what you’re saying is we have a female feral who is going to need to have the venom sacs emptied out before they become inflamed and she ends up being poisoned by her own venom. Do I have that right?”
Ser Adrian gave her a sharp nod, which was rather unnecessary by that point but Elane appreciated his willingness to accept her frustration at face value.
Sighing out loud would be unprofessional so Elane did it silently. “It will be a miracle if we all get through this intact,” she said quietly, slowly walking closer to the wagon. There was another shriek from inside the cage and the wagon shivered as the wyvern slammed against the side. There was no ‘hiss-snap’ of venom being spat out however, which was a good sign the wyvern was just feral and not falling into a frenzy.
If the female did that there would be no saving her. Ferals could be coaxed back from the edge, but once a wyvern fell into a frenzy the only recourse was to put them down.
Elane resisted the urge to rub just above the bridge of her nose, where a headache had already grown roots. It wouldn’t do to come off as unprofessional when everyone was already stretched to their limits with a feral wyvern just waiting to take a chunk out of somebody. It wasn’t an impossible situation, it would just take some careful maneuvering as well as a heap of luck.
“How is she usually removed from the cage?” Elane asked, with the suspicion that she wasn’t going to like the answer.
Ser Adrian didn’t disappoint, but in his defense he didn’t look happy about it either. “If she’s calm she can usually be coaxed out but if she’s being aggressive she’s usually fed drugged food. Once she’s asleep she’s hauled out and placed in her enclosure. If she won’t eat then they use the collar-”.
Holding up a hand, Elane cut him off before he could explain the travesty of the Wyvern Corps methods of dealing with wyverns. “Of course. So we have a feral wyvern with inflamed venom sacs who associates humans with pain and suffering.” She stared at the cage, honestly not sure where to even start.
When she glanced at Kern for possible guidance he just looked at her with one eyebrow lifted and Elane could feel the headache between her eyes grow teeth. Guess that rumor about Kern looking for a replacement wasn’t just the result of too many of her fellow hostlers breathing in the fumes while shoveling wyvern dung. She would have to decide later if she was appalled or proud. Kern would have one hell of a fight getting the higher ups to agree to a young woman taking his place so she wouldn’t worry about it until he made his choice ‘official’.
There was another shriek and Elane decided she’d wasted enough time standing around. “How does she react to other wyverns?” she asked Ser Adrian.
“She isn’t overtly aggressive with them,” he said, which was a relief. That would have been one hurdle too many considering how complicated the situation was already. “She isn’t what I would call friendly but she doesn’t attack on sight.”
Not the best response but better than outright aggressive behavior. With one last glance at Kern, who was still waiting off to the side to make it clear this was her show to run, she approached the wagon and cage. Once she was close enough to smell the acid bite of the venom she stopped and considered her options. There was another shriek but once again no telltale hiss-snap of venom being released. Small favors but they added up.
Her main goal was to try and get the wyvern to calm down. If she was calm Elane had a chance of getting her out of the cage without traumatizing her further. She should have asked Kern to have one of the other hostlers fetch the sedatives, but she felt as if asking for them was taking the easy way out. The wyvern deserved to be angry considering her treatment up until now and Elane wanted a chance to show Ser Adrian and his soldiers how it could be done if someone knew what they were doing.
Now if only she knew what she was doing.
It was impulse more than deliberate thought that had her putting her fingers to her lips and emitting a piercing whistle. It was two sharp tones, low and then high. Her grandfather’s farm hadn’t been big, but it was large enough to give the wyverns a decent amount of land to hunt and wander when they weren’t being kept in their separate enclosures. They’d been trained to associate the whistle with feeding time, and she had managed to break up a few disagreements amongst her scaly charges by having them immediately turn and race towards the gate in the hopes of being the first to eat. Not that they’d been fed randomly. They’d always made a point of observing the pack hierarchy amongst the wyverns and fed them accordingly.
She hoped that the noise would be enough to garner the female’s interest. If Ser Adrian was correct and she came from a training farm then it was more than likely she would have grown up listening to various whistles.
The low growling that had been emanating from the wagon since it was first rolled in cut off abruptly. Elane waited, heart suddenly beating faster with barely contained nerves. She almost couldn’t believe that had worked. With a quick glance at Ser Adrian she confirmed that he was also staring with wide eyes, equally surprised by the female’s response to her sharp whistle. Still standing next to Ser Adrian, Cladius let out a low rumble and extended his neck to nudge his rider.
“I’m guessing he came from a breeder as well?” Elane asked, smiling.
Ser Adrian reached up to rub Cladius snout. “From Redrock, one of the Corps’ main suppliers.” He scratched under Cladius’ chin. “You just ate so don’t think you’ll be getting anymore now.”
Leaving rider and wyvern to their dinner negotiations, Elane started walking closer to the wagon. One of the nearby soldiers backed away quick enough he almost tripped over his own feet. Finally noticing them milling around, it was hard to focus on them when there were wyverns taking up her full attention, Elane waved them away. “Please step back, I’ll never be able to get her to calm down if she can still smell any of you nearby.”
One of the soldiers, soaked from the rain that had been steadily pouring for the last half hour glared and opened his mouth, only for Ser Adrian to cut him off. “You heard hostler Elane. You may think this female is more trouble than she’s worth but I assure you, she feels the same way about all of us. Now let’s give the hostler some space.”
With a mix of sullen silence and quiet grumbles, and in one case a muttered prayer that the crazy wyvern got to take a chunk out of the crazy woman, Elane was left alone next to the wagon. The still suspiciously quiet wagon.
Kern stepped up beside her with a soft scuff of his boots. His arms were crossed over his chest and his lips were pressed together in a tight line. “You’re taking a big risk for very little gain, Elane. I know you’ve got a way with the beasts, but this one is a feral. Probably close to going into a frenzy judging from the sounds of those shrieks.”
Elane nodded, biting back her immediate assurance that she could figure something out. “I think I have a chance. The female calmed down after hearing the whistle. She might be a feral but I believe she remembers a time when humans weren’t the enemy. If I can bring her back from the edge then I have to do something.”
She didn’t say they needed all the cooperative females they could get, that wyvern venom was one of their greatest assets in war and letting a potent source go into a frenzy and be put down was a terrible waste. None of those reasons were why she wanted to save the wyvern, and Kern knew it. So she waited for him to tell her yes or no, trying not to think of what she might be driven to do if he did choose to deny her the chance.
After a moment that might as well have been a small eternity, Kern shrugged. “Try it your way first. But if you get savaged just remember you aren’t allowed to quit.”
“Well I do appreciate the job security,” Elane said under her breath as she slowly approached the wagon.
The female had made no sound since Elane whistled, her continued silence almost eerie after the sustained growling and shrieking they’d been subjected to since her arrival. Taking a breath, Elane whistled again, a soft three tone call that she had once used as a greeting when approaching the wyverns that she was responsible for. It was something they all had done, creating a specific whistle that served as another method of recognition when the wyvern’s weren’t able to scent them.
They’d each had their own whistle, and after a while the wyverns had started responding with their own short calls as well. It...hurt to think about, made Elane remember what her life had used to be like and how drastically everything had fallen apart.
It was gone, stolen away by the king and his Royal Wyvern Corps no matter how much she wished she could bring it all back.
She almost didn’t realize what she was hearing, the sounds were so soft. Little chirps that by all rights should have come from a bird. For a confused moment, Elane thought that a bird had managed to get in and had only now decided to reveal itself. It was certainly more believable than what her traitorous heart was thinking, the sound of that faint call alone enough to set her heart pounding.. She had to be imagining it. There was no way she could be that lucky. The odds of finding any of the wyverns from her family’s farm had been almost non-existent. To not only find one, but have it be this particular one...was it a dream?
“Elane, what’s going on?” Kern asked. There was a soft scuff as he started to walk toward her, and Elane held out a hand to make him stop.
“Stay back,” she said, heart in her throat. After so much grief, the first sliver of hope hurt like wyvern acid. The burn of it seemed to go straight through her. “I think I know this wyvern. I don’t want to spook her.”
It took several attempts to wet her lips with her mouth suddenly gone dry. She whistled again, the same three tones, high-low-high. The chirps in response were louder and more confident, followed by a low rumble that made Elane’s heart twist. Hand pressed to her mouth she took several quick steps and climbed the back of the wagon. She ignored the panicked sounds behind her and went right up to the cage.
No matter how much hope pushed her onward, Elane didn’t let it blind her. Rather than immediately sliding back the small door that would let her see inside, Elane whistled again. This time she used the whistle that she had only used for one wyvern.
She held her breath with one hand pressed against the small latch, ignoring Ser Adrian as he called her name as well as Kern’s demand to know what she was doing. Instead she listened to the brief moment of silence from within the cage, and then the short chirps followed by a rumble purr that made her eyes go blurry from a sudden surge of unshed tears.
Unlatching the lock and sliding the small barrier aside, she was greeted by a huff of wyvern breath carrying the acid bite of venom. A pair of achingly familiar gold eyes peered out at Elane, the familiar mask of black scales that gradually faded into gray lost within the gloom.
“Nightingale,” Elane breathed, throat growing tight as her eyes started to burn. “By the gods Nightingale, I actually found you.”
Touching her fingers to the smooth warmth of familiar scales just above the wyvern venom induced scars that had twisted Nightingale’s lips into a permanent snarl, Elane silently swore that she would not let this second chance slip away.
