Excerpt: On Dragon Wings

The sound came again, closer than before, and Aryanna stepped to the side. There were plenty of old pieces of wood scattered along the edge of the forest, the remains of wood gathered by woodsmen selling it as firewood to those living in town. Aryanna selected a good stout looking section of wood as round as her forearm and slightly longer than she was tall. It would make a clumsy staff being so thick, but it was too long to be an effective club. A hard thwack against a nearby tree served to both warn any would-be attackers that she was now armed, and to prove to her that she would not easily break the stout wood into a more easily wielded length.

The sound of branches rustling out in the forest caught her attention. Whatever or whoever it was, they were closer, too close for her to have any hope of running from them. Fear made a heavy weight in the bottom of her stomach, her eyes scanned the foliage for any sign of whatever was out there. She recalled stories from the tavern, drunk men and women sitting by the hearth talking in lowered voices about a creature that had come to live in the forests north of the town, a beast that preyed on the livestock of local farms and, on occasion, the unwary traveler who crossed its path.

It was foolishness. The tales. This area was not as civilized as the cities to the East, but it was still settled enough that there would be no creatures preying on livestock, certainly nothing that would prey on a person. It was brigands scaring the locals into thinking it was something much fouler.

Aryanna caught her breath as the forest ahead of her seemed to explode with movement. Something large raised up, branches pushed aside by the massive serpentine head as the creature pulled back to strike. In the moment the creature reared back, Aryanna tried to run, backing away from it only to find the long makeshift weapon she held made flight impossible. Catching in the underbrush along the side of the road the end of the pole jerked in her hands, her feet catching in the same underbrush so that she fell back as the creature moved in for the kill. Her breath gone she stared at the gaping maw of the beast, rows of teeth and heated putrid breath causing her to curl away from the sight of her own death, her hands instinctively gripping the pole that she still held.

Pain flared in her shoulder, side and hip. She could feel the weight of the beast as it pressed down, the sharp teeth tore into soft skin and then there was only pain and weight, the saliva of the giant wyrm mingling with her blood.