THE LION ISN'T SACRED WHEN NOT SLEEPING NEAR THE LAMB
If he found Amaris' cool rationality annoying, Brecken didn't show it. He was accustomed to it, by now — being told wait and calm down. So he tried, much as he longed for someone to share his view on things. She was right, of course. They were always right. He wouldn't dwell on it, but he would always feel the sting of his own impetuosity.
Her quiet reprimand elicited only a grin. Of course it is, said his sidelong glance. But don't you like to think we're above that? He was startled, though, by the music of the dragon's sudden cry. It did not seem to him a warning — rather, a noise he heard very rarely. It was almost musical, joyful, and it seemed to coincide with some change in Amaris. He was still watching the dragon warily when she posed the question, and he looked up in time only to see her disappear over the edge.
With a surprised, delighted laugh, he followed suit, hot on her heels. Unfolding below him was the roar of water, the bleak face of the cliffs. He caught it all in a rush: the sharp taste of the salty air, the glimmer of the dragon's wings ago, the roar of air against his eardrums. Then a hissing rush of warmth up from somewhere down below, and instead of toppling down, down into the waves, he was thrust back to land gracelessly on his rear, laughing all the while like a boy half his age.
"Do you think we should change the name?" he asked, more than a little punch drunk on adrenaline.
Her quiet reprimand elicited only a grin. Of course it is, said his sidelong glance. But don't you like to think we're above that? He was startled, though, by the music of the dragon's sudden cry. It did not seem to him a warning — rather, a noise he heard very rarely. It was almost musical, joyful, and it seemed to coincide with some change in Amaris. He was still watching the dragon warily when she posed the question, and he looked up in time only to see her disappear over the edge.
With a surprised, delighted laugh, he followed suit, hot on her heels. Unfolding below him was the roar of water, the bleak face of the cliffs. He caught it all in a rush: the sharp taste of the salty air, the glimmer of the dragon's wings ago, the roar of air against his eardrums. Then a hissing rush of warmth up from somewhere down below, and instead of toppling down, down into the waves, he was thrust back to land gracelessly on his rear, laughing all the while like a boy half his age.
"Do you think we should change the name?" he asked, more than a little punch drunk on adrenaline.
IT IS EVIL WHEN IT EATS UNLESS IT'S FEEDING FROM THE DAMNED.
