ISKRA
The success of their assault is dwarfed beneath the shudder of their shield under the return fire. It holds, but Iskra glances first up at it, then across to Deimos, as if to ensure both are holding steady against the rampage and all the heft of the beast. Just the force of it suggests to Iskra he in fact does not want to peek his head out from under the shield like a rabbit from its hole, but the blocked view and the lack of feet to take aim at do make him equally wary.
The sound of wings is clue enough, and Iskra fears that it means to completely crush the barrow and them with it if it gains enough height. "Think the wings could be frozen? Or layered with rock?" he asks of them, creeping to the edge of the shield. He tries to drop his head down and crane his neck, angling for a peek without exposing himself, but it doesn't offer much. Another match has been lit and billows between his fingertips, ready.
Iskra suggests trying to disable its flight and is ready with fire but doesn't attack
The sound of wings is clue enough, and Iskra fears that it means to completely crush the barrow and them with it if it gains enough height. "Think the wings could be frozen? Or layered with rock?" he asks of them, creeping to the edge of the shield. He tries to drop his head down and crane his neck, angling for a peek without exposing himself, but it doesn't offer much. Another match has been lit and billows between his fingertips, ready.
Iskra suggests trying to disable its flight and is ready with fire but doesn't attack
This thing we call life has been taking its toll
