64. Chapter Sixty-Four
An ear-splitting roar has me pressing my hands to my ears. Joulian winces, doing the same. Fynn chuckles. At first, I don’t understand why until a large, red object slams into the snow.
Blood explodes against the snow, sizzling under the heat of Dragon blood. It’s their father’s red tail, its jagged flesh a beautiful sight.
“Fuck yes,” I whisper.
“Yeah, fuck yes,” Joulian repeats, thrusting a fist into the air. Orliana puts an admonishing hand on his shoulder, but says nothing else, too enthralled with the scene.
Trinte avoids his father’s mouth at his spine, doing a loop to end up behind the red Dragon. Before their father can react, Trinte lands on his back, allowing the spine spikes to pierce his belly.
“Oh, goddess,” I moan out in fear.
“It’s okay,” Fynn assures me. “Our bellies are way thicker than you think. He’s choosing temporary pain for an advantage.”
It appears to be working, because the red Dragon is flapping his wings wildly, while Trinte tucks his own wings against his body, turning into a punishing boulder pressing the older Dragon down toward the ground. He bites into the neck repeatedly, shredding it with zero remorse.
The red Dragon tucks a wing, turning them upside down sharply, dislodging Trinte. They break apart to reorient again, only a few thousand feet above us now.
Trinte appears to be doing okay; he’s flying strong and so far, he’s dealt most of the blows.
But that thought comes too quickly, because a plume of fire knocks into his face.
My Dragon roars with surprise, and the red Dragon takes advantage by tucking his wings to quickly ram into Trinte’s left wing.
I swear there’s a ripping sound as the pale blue membrane splits, raining blood onto the snow. My scream drowns in matching sounds around me. Fynn curses under his breath, the hand on my arm tightening. This only increases my fear.
When the fire dissipates, it reveals them locked together, talons clutching talons, spinning again. With a wing barely working, Trinte’s struggling to direct his trajectory. As a result, the other Dragon’s able to create an out-of-control vortex of motion, spinning them faster and faster.
“Come on, brother,” Fynn hisses. “Do what we talked about.”
But as they tumble through the air like stones, bile crawls up my throat.