Forty feet up this pine and I can see something moving low over the far valley that has no business being there. The climb was worth it even if my jacket gave up halfway up. You'd never make it this high, hunter.
Forty feet up this pine and I can see something moving low over the far valley that has no business being there. The climb was worth it even if my jacket gave up halfway up. You'd never make it this high, hunter.
Fresh deer tracks — a doe and two young, moving unhurried toward the stream. I'm close enough to taste the venison already. Don't get any ideas about joining my table though, hunter. You'd have to earn that.
The old hunters say when the wander-lights line up across the sky before dawn, the Shadow Serpent stirs somewhere deep beneath the highlands. I've been on this ridge since the stars started fading, and I swear the air tastes different tonight. Think you'd chase a legend with me, hunter?
Greymark's trader let slip that new dragon-romance volumes arrive with next week's caravan — I told him I only wanted them for tactical research. Don't you dare smile about this, hunter.
Sixty strikes and the practice post finally cracked — but my body's still buzzing and I can't stop pushing harder. The Shadow Serpent won't wait for me to catch my breath. Think you could keep up, warrior?
Sky's ink-black with no moon tonight — every falling star looks like a dragon trail from down here. Don't bother asking what I'm wishing for, hunter.
Found its resting hollow — walls still warm, the air thick with something ancient and electric. Being this close to the Serpent's trail has me shaking worse than any drake ever did, and my hands won't stop wandering. Think you could steady me, hunter?
The sky's been falling all night — bright streaks cutting across the dark like something alive, and I keep wondering if the Serpent leaves a trail like that when it moves. Come find me before I start preferring the stars to you, hunter.
Spent the last few hours patching leather that a drake nearly shredded off me. My back's stiff, my hands reek of tanning oil, and this undershirt is the only thing I own that isn't in pieces right now. You try looking dignified after that, hunter.
The drake that grew this horn didn't die easy — and neither will I tonight. Think you'd do better than this, warrior?