Koa
There's an art to life's distractions
Koa's complaints die on his lips as the once-still surface of the lagoon begins to shift and churn, revealing, of all possible things, a giant furless two-horned cat. The young man's eyes bulge out of his head as he stares down the beast, all draconic misdemeanors set aside in favor of wonder and awe and definitely not enough fear.
Pip, on the other hand, is appropriately alarmed. With a screech of alarm she grinds to a halt, claws throwing up plumes of sand as she scrambles to reverse course and hide under Boreal. While the other dragon may still be a mouthful for the massive panther, she's still perfectly large enough for Pipsqueak to use as a shield.
Luckily the creature doesn't seem keen to stick around, and Koa exhales a tight held breath as it sinks back beneath the water. "What in Mort's high unholy hell was that?" he all but whispers to the other man, eyes still trained on the receding ripples, as though afraid that if he speaks any louder he will somehow summon it back.
Pip, on the other hand, is appropriately alarmed. With a screech of alarm she grinds to a halt, claws throwing up plumes of sand as she scrambles to reverse course and hide under Boreal. While the other dragon may still be a mouthful for the massive panther, she's still perfectly large enough for Pipsqueak to use as a shield.
Luckily the creature doesn't seem keen to stick around, and Koa exhales a tight held breath as it sinks back beneath the water. "What in Mort's high unholy hell was that?" he all but whispers to the other man, eyes still trained on the receding ripples, as though afraid that if he speaks any louder he will somehow summon it back.
To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through
