Chapter 4: Butch on black wings
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The dragon was here. And they were majestic.

The night vision spell I had been using let me take in all the beautiful details, albeit with muted colors. The dragon soared on thick wings that stretched from their back, their tail ending in an arrow-shaped spike of keratin. Their claws raked the ground as they flew past the hunters, tearing deep channels into the soil and throwing up dirt to blind the hunters even more than the darkness was doing so already. There were panicked shouts as the dragon soared up into a hovering position, great wings throwing gusts of wind down at the frightened expedition. The dragon took in a deep breath and sent a burst of flame over the heads of their foes.

I was taking out my holy symbol, ready to use it to focus my mana for healing when I realized something was a bit off about this picture. A dragon is an incredibly fierce combatant, difficult to fight even in the best of conditions (based on the books I had read), and this dragon had the expedition completely at their mercy. And yet not a single hunter had taken any serious injury. I realized that the dragon was trying to scare the hunters off, not wound them. I was confused as to why.

I noticed Gent unsling his bow in a calm and practiced manner, restringing it and nocking an arrow in almost no time at all. I watched him infuse the arrow with wisps of wind aspected mana, spelling his arrow to fly true. He carefully aimed at the dragon, likely trying to hit one of the softer patches of scales where the wings met the back. I found myself looking in horror, my love of dragons fighting with the desire to see the mission succeed. I shouted before I could stop myself, a wordless cry that keened in the night air and drew the dragon’s attention. The arrow flew forth with incredible speed and pierced one of the dragon’s wings instead of their back.

The dragon’s wings beat a few more times but the tear in the membrane made it difficult for them to maintain their hovering position. I worried that they might crash to the ground but it seemed like such a wound was not sufficient to completely prevent flight. As the dragon slowly lost height, I watched some of the other hunters steel their nerves and fire their arrows into the other wing. One or two pierced through, causing not even a fraction of the tear that Gent’s arrow had. Still, this seemed to be enough of a tipping point and I watched the dragon swiftly approach the ground. As they did so, their body became enveloped in a cloud of smoky ash, and I watched them shift from their full draconic form to a more human figure.

The figure hit the ground and knelt in a crouch, absorbing the impact. As the figure stood, I stared awestruck at the beautiful woman before me. She was tall, wearing a form-fitting top that left her back and broad shoulders bare, with some kind of armored half-skirt at her hips and her muscular thighs clad in skintight leggings. Her shoulders and arms had clusters of obsidian scales that glittered iridescently in the light from the small fires around the clearing and were a sharp contrast with her scarred, tanned skin. Her figure was like that of statues of the war goddess, Lantra, condensed power in an elegant frame. I caught her eyes, blazing with inner fire, two thick horns at her temples curving back into sharp points. Her short red hair stirred softly in the night breeze, leaving her pointed ears on full display. Her tail, much smaller now, whipped in agitation.

Her square jaw was set in a fierce snarl, her small fangs bared as she glared at myself and Gent. She had a strong, prominent nose and scars along her cheeks, along with smaller clusters of scales. Her eyes seemed to shift from Gent to me, her gaze like daggers. Oh no, she caught me staring and I knew, I KNEW, that I couldn’t move. She was beautiful. My cheeks burned with the effect she had on me. Here was the draconic goddess of my dreams, fire and scale and fang incarnated into an unstoppable woman. In my innermost thoughts, I cursed Gent and the other hunters for daring to stand against her. I was awestruck, maybe a little smitten even.

Her snarl shifted into the smile of a wolf who had spotted her prey. She was looking at the holy symbol held in my hands, like an act of defiance, like an act of prayer, like a penitent beseeching mercy from an uncaring storm.

When she moved, it was like lightning crashing across the clearing. In a flash, she slammed her arm into Gent’s stomach, driving the breath from his body. I felt the displaced wind from her movement blow past my face. Such speed, such power. None of us could stand against this. Gent collapsed to the ground and she turned to me, that same smile fixed on her face.

She opened her mouth and spoke, deep velvety tones wrapped around molten magma. “Yes, you’ll do just fine. Just fine indeed.” She raised her hand, the black nails on her fingers glittering exactly like her scales as she gestured behind her, magic surging through the air to create a wall of flames cutting us off from the expedition. I could only stand frozen as she did so, rooted to the ground as she walked slowly toward me, each stride a calculated saunter that I could not tear my gaze from.

She raised her perfect hand once more and tapped me lightly on the forehead. “Sleep, little morsel. I have plans for you.” A burst of mana surged into me.

My vision darkened as unconsciousness took me, and I knew no more.

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