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A future freed, where all judged all by not their kind but merit.

I, Fiosa Rincés, duchess of the Three Peaks Unclaimed, strung a muffled yet stilled Laé up by her wings. 'Hush; your membranes can more than take it.'

I tied the last knot around the first knuckle of her left wing and tugged it to test the hold, eliciting a yelp; firmed to scales at a notch under over-tightened, dissimilar to those loosened white robes spread up through tucking into the loops. That rubied brooch glinted. A step on the teal-bordered rug, regrettedly embroidered with a vulgar spearing of Berlu, a touch to the left, to stand before she whose back pressed to the left grey-marble side wall of my inner bedchamber, side doors shut, followed by pulling the eight slackened ropes lashed to rings set in the floor and the vaulted ceiling to draw them taut silently, each limb splayed, tail counted. Coaxing over a few repasts with promises of favour repaid lured her into bondage amidst lavender candles. This was not a cost too great, such as murder.

The wheeled mirror slid along the black and white tiles to rest across from the rug. 'Behold yourself: Strung, pale underside on display for any maid to do with as they please.' A lie; to go so far, vile. 'Are you humiliated, hmm? Ho ho, your fetish reversed in ways unforeseen, bereft of crooked wind's aid. That beguiling scent of yours verged on tricking me; alas, solely the season of winter to one of frost.' That, her never nearing success in reality notwithstanding, plus, of lesser weight, nares frozen after hours basked in night air to leave no sense of smell like those through which her scent promised affection, omitted, as to give away the distance spanning betwixt that made I the one to start Renait's future would harm ploys hereafter.

Admittedly, the ability of her wings to manipulate currents did interest, brute forced as it was in that it required every knuckle of both wings to do aught, precision limited to the buffeting on the day of Gerlis and Vaxil's awesome duel. Frost would have better captured her but would last not long enough, pain willingly given or not.

I chuckled before rearing up to lean toward her, inhaling air then exhaled politely athwart, femininity, though scents would better decide, largely equalled but for white-ruffed neck and twelve-branched antlers of mine that gave the presence greater—that was, should silvered-as-mirror gauze lingerie have been discluded—tips of snouts, hers, nearly straight-lined, brighter than my gentle, pale blue inward curves, to remain a respectful five inches apart, while eyes, revealed a faint red, to grow, by a morning twilight ray from a gap deliberate in the tied maroon curtains of the balcony, began scanning each and every object of the room in exact order of import quite granular: exits, canopied bed at the backwall between the two archways that led to the balcony, decoy bookkeeping shelves, a fresco of Xerasia the Voluptuary, wall warming banners, and, covering the keystone of the curtained entry archway, the noble heraldry of the bloodline of Rincés: the bottom of a claw-bearing and black cloven hoof pointed downward that two brown antlers girt.

Although likely for escape in lieu, words pitched high to mock an angle foisted: 'Plotting revenge? How quaint; that, our distinction. You shall not free yourself, and even were so to occur, there is nothing that will wipe away the stain of having once been tricked by me, the misbegotten of the northwest. Nothing.' Such fine scales, reminiscent of crased pottery; air chilled killed a blush that was to rise clear due not to any scent. Another time, perhaps, when on the same side. A fate shared, albino and quarter hybrid. 'Be not wholly discouraged; you might match or surpass me in the world coming yet, dear. Skirting detection by weaving with my channels impresses. Our mixed signage confounded many an agent, your own counted.' Fla had delayed Klek because of it.

With that, I strutted out, click of steps dulled by padded claw sheaths, double oaken doors hasped locked twice by two tall, brawny guards, half of my four most loyal, to the runnered hall and, path pre-candlelit, thence walk-in wardrobe across built for fifty outfits of garbs varied tailored to besuit each season, those most often worn hung at the floor level. Once down the short ramp inside, the on-duty maidservant, Linst, dressed in the silver trappings of a maid, shoulder height, slipped off the claws sheaths already and with hand gestures, directed, on account of that her second had fallen ill, my sister, Fla, pale orange, thigh height, wreathed in black, who ever fumbled about to read Linst's signs and descended from the third walksquare, both to set to unstrapping the lingerie to accoutre me in black breeches buttoned along the sides, tail sliding through the hole, and a wide-necked silk blouse. After a second, an elbow wobbled, balance lost, sides caught by them.

'You overdid it on the roof,' Fla said, grip tight. 'Told you to plug instead.'

'They, had not worked for Mishra, charmed as rest the seductress has entreated. Only by luck do we still have Zorica for the rice seals.' The level-headed steward was who told me of the food stockpiling Laé had started, an amount that filled the granary to the brim. The main mirror reflected a disheveled visage. 'Sinuses begin to thaw, balance to return with them. Prepare me for the granary. No back skirt or side dressing.' The mission called for garments more masculine than preferred.

'That's because Mishra took them out. Besides, she's fine anyway. Kind of.' Fla misjudged but never betrayed, albeit the plugs had allowed her to stalk our marshal's albino dalliant sans being bewitched.

Next buckled a sapphire-blue coat fitted snug to which was laced a sable hosen that reached the mid of the concave of my abdomen, waisting high in vogue, and a tail hosen sleeved on string fastened, opened at the end for a naturally silver spaded tail tip.

'Just two guards?'

'You forget the rear balcony; four of the best. Provided Gerlis and her guard continue to busy themselves with investigating the “misplaced" copper, naught equal, least of all greater, than they will try to pass them.' Laé had persuaded Axila into lying about the orders of copper from Her Grandeur to have them shipped north for plans that she refused to disclose; repurposed were her efforts there and in the food stockpiling, this day brought betimes.

Topped off by the white furred, half navy mantle, cape brocaded, placed atop and slid up to reach around my shoulders, never to collar the neck, any neck.

'Fla, re-scout the silos. Each of them.'

'Yes, sister.'

I clutched her right forelimb. 'That order, made in love and fear.'

'One of the only two families in the whole north.' She sounded like her mother had, stretching her neck to nuzzle the side of my snout, scales spreading inwards at the contact. 'We'll meet at the second silo?'

A nod answered her, and she jogged from the room. I walked out to the ajarred great grey drapes of the mezzanine-sided foyer, four spaced columns between there and the foreneath slated entrance balcony which ended in a half disc. A snow flurry, early to the fall of this year, had begun.

There could be no surer sign, all warmth everywhere outlined by the moisture in the air. For water and intor, the lifeblood of dragons, flowed into each other.

Linst passed the writecraft-inscribed tablets, sized at half a claw, and slipped on the false-sided claw sheaths, sharpened, that sparkled before she brushed my ruff quick; I sneaked a kiss to her softened rough lips, the servants all ever devoted, she so especially, and strode out—great drapes tied behind to shield the interior from the weather—passing the currently emptied terraces, down the long ramp, across the flat, up a single step, to the hooked lip. The city was below, hundreds of towers black and white and grey in a pit of black and white and grey, as the estate, uniquely of human design, nestled in a prominence of the north aiguille, sprawled in from the highest ridge of the hollowed out mountain, cols bridged by colonnades and peaks towered. Wealth in the blood, not to say preserving food paid poorly, that only Her Grandeur dwarfed despite her squandering her own. Contacts and assets.

Few dragons flew to and fro in these young hours, save for on the ridges to return from hunts; for once, to go unaccosted in the flyways. The patrols had responded well to bribes of private housing and 'nesses willing to join, or be the first of, their harems, as usual.

Composed of eight primary silos, built with planks upon planks, that filled vision and the storehouse itself rested the granary atop the southeast plateau, thousands of more silos piped down to the depths. My frost but worked up close.

I flew out into the cold.

***

No workers to present, as discussed. The first silo was the smallest and took less time than the sidling that crunched snow, filled with glancing here and there, to the second.

'All clear.'

Air condensed to frost about the source—ah, Fla, wide eyed. 'And the seals?'

'Zorica is dealing with the last few as we speak.'

'Watch my back.' At the base of the silo, the tablets slid into the rice slots, unsealed hours prior, to be resealed by my frost to trap the freezing to come, that fed out from the granary. All eight silos needed be underset by six tablets with coverage evened lest the rice remain or the drawing yields be insufficient; each tablet, chained together by their sigils which proximity strengthened, would cascade its resonance to the next in a loop quickening every frequency bounce to widen, to Ama, its funnel, out from which intor would flow en masse, the backup plan of drawing the moisture from the air a last resort. Bits from rice pushed aside stuck to my fingers, but at least the ice dulled the smell, and with each tablet slotted, the weight lessened.

She looked worried. 'No, we did not. I promised it, to be victim to her sadistic humiliation wants for the next, which shan't occur.'

A long-held sigh let go. 'I'd never seen Sia cry.'

Wings beat; Zorica alit behind me, silly horns strapped to her narrow head, a long trending style, antlers so beneath everyone. 'Fiosa Rincés.' In the scant light, her scales gleamt emerald in spite of fall.

'Zorica Valfor.' Swathed in simple green robes, she was ever a slim faster, like Xerasia. She matched my height too.

By the fourth silo, Fla flew to recheck the rest and the first sans being asked; she always did everything she could to help, even that of which was yet unthought.

'Let me help,' Zorica said, leaning down to my left till hoar ran up fingers to shy her right hand from the tablets; 'Typical, choosing to go it alone.'

'Not now.'

'Next week, evening, late lunch, west spire. No buts, all buts.' She stood stiffly.

'Quitting your chasing Cal?' For by Jazin, he had earnt a break from that pawing and clamouring and groping. The third slotted in; a dash to the fourth commenced.

'This is taking too long.' Dawn rays, scales garish green? 'Ladies...' Workers who had missed the order for morning dismissal she led away.

At the eighth she clasped my rear and raised it, my tail to shamefully bat the rocky ground in lieu of whacking her. 'Taunting me with that body.' What? My appearance attracted none. Nares whiffed an over-feminine scent. 'Our ranks allow for a little public play; Vaxil will wait.'

The pursuit of capital did not; heat fled her; she raked my tail hosen as she fell, too slowed to continue, nevertheless reaching at my hinds which stayed up and out of reach.

'Rimed prude, leading me on.'

The last slotted in. Steps.

'Degenerative view from here, but Laé shall fix your barrenness, prey, for what little you could do with it.' Not Zorica. A hazel scaled dragoness, Mishra, held Fla by the throat, both about the same size. 'Don't think about it; your frost won't reach before—'

Her limbs refused her call, maw agape; till this dawn, mere frosted party tricks and preservation. Delicious shock, indeed, from one so popular with the middle nobility. 'That which never grew cannot regrow.'

Fla fell to the ground, gasping with a smirk aimed at the other. 'Antlers don't make prey. Submitting does, traitor.'

'And hatchlings suit none here,' I said. 'Klek shall not forgive this.'

Zorica rose, sputtering at the at the feeling of heat draining once more, 'Let me help. I'm sorry. Laé just makes such sweet promises of such tenderness. I'll carry Mishra here to the estate.'

'Very well. Please, do not betray me.' It was time that called for trust, the fleck of dried blood on Mishra's claw and her torn brown cloak ignored. 'Fla, help Zorica.' She was a quick flyer and would alert my guard to trouble, though her eyes hovered on how Zor hugged Mishra to her chest to carry her.

I soared above the granary, waited till they left, and...

The satisfying, quiet hiss of vacuuming heat, the rice swiftly desiccated beyond consumption even by stravin; the rest of the site was entirely unharmed; and little sound elsewise was made. Clihal and other assorted meats alone would feed neither the masses nor the nobility, giving the farmers, the key players, 'tals and 'nesses alike, though the latter were deceived with meagre pledges, swayed via mail beforehand, bargaining power to force economic redistribution by shifting holdership of the farms themselves into the hands of said 'tals. But only if law leashed the retinues would food from without stay long enough untaken by force in kind.

For that, a regime changed was to be called for—or rather, returned.

That, and starving the depths would be murder, and against my plan of ultimate capital.

From low, I started flying southwest to the basalt tower: that of Gerlis, the only building from which smoke plumed. It loomed over whosoever beheld it, baleful of those above according to Klek, the spikes seeming to grow in count the closer one flew. Officially, it guarded the sloped trade passage wound about the southwest mountainside that was for humans too prideful to haggle pottery prices at the base of the mountain to wend over the course of a few days—or sixteen, if actually completed.

The platform to land jutted out at a third from the top, a layout too clearly foolish for the warlord; my throat parched, minding that this escapade would start at the very last floor and end at the planned escape through that platform. Former Captain Axila, revealer of Laé in the first, had given a point of contact but failed to specify with whom.

At the foundation of the tower, nestled between two rocks, was a crevice. I tucked my wings close, traipsing through, careful to keep membranes from the unsmoothed rock. No matter, my claw sheaths were scratched anyway. Lovely. The passage widened to a cavern—

Metal itself tackled me and pressed a claw to my neck, a guard. 'Code.'

'Spliced vinegar.'

'Have my name: Kaiel. The Captain.' She stepped aside to let me stand, elbow-fixed keys jangling. 'Hold still.'

'Where does Vaxil await us?'

'She refused to so much as stand. You'll have to carry her out with me, maybe try to convince her.' Her claws touched shackles to my wrists.

My forelimbs slid around hers and pulled to hasten the fettering, leaving it a bit loose. 'I am the one who binds.'

She snorted. 'Fully; Axila taught us well. In case it gets lost later: Vaxil's in the third room to the left after the barracks from this way in.'

'Fine.' With Gerlis away, nothing would impede Vaxil once unshackled regardless.

She unlocked a metal door and slid it to the side; incense deluged, nares burning; I recoiled but she pushed me into the sandstone furnace of an orange hell.

We walked the narrow halls, her struggling with the weight of her plate, shackles clanking, few to meet thanks to the copper investigation venturing into the depths, and flew up navigation shafts. Although a few strange looks had my head hold low, only one congratulation from a recruit pried, most too delighted by one another.

'Axila spoke highly of you.'

'Frost does dazzle, in the right light.'

'No, of you.'

'Who is this exotic aberrant?' whispered an over-pink dragoness leaning over, having sneaked unnoticed, red hindcloth garbed. Heat shifted from her returned, no room for it to escape. 'I have to show her to Nixa and Yen.'

'Look, Lear—'

'Eri.'

'Whichever, go. I'm having this one.' A strained lie.

'Oh, now I must; they will be overjoyed to hear that! Gerlis too when she gets back. Loves a good righting.' She tugged Kaiel who gripped the offending forelimb as hindclothed guards turned a corner.

So we followed to a bathing room with two cream dragonesses, beige and cream, too season tricked, groping a stripped woman with absurdly thick auburn hair, poking her lean body all over. If not for them, she might be the only one at home in this sweltering heat. My eyes closed easily, to better calm, then opened them refocused. So long as it did not take long and diverted their attention from this woman, this would be an enjoyed detour.

'These are freaky; why so much in two spots?'

'Two more but these ones make sense—Eri? You've brought Captain Kaiel? Come, come. She wants that one? You jest.'

My left hand neared the water and—

'Not you. Go away.'

Right. Of course. For the best, really. It was the way they did look and they didn't look, everything wrong.

'Let Eloise go and I'll stay,' Kaiel said.

'What are you doing? We have no time for this.'

'They can tell who you are,' she whispered. 'Not half as dim-witted as you'd expect, unluckily for us.'

'Yes!' both said.

'Fiosa, pick Eloise up.' The woman weighed more than guessed.

They and Eri dragged Kaiel into the water, armour splashed and dissembled. It was almost cute till that grimaced face glimpsed from between the writhing flesh. She managed to unhook the key chain and the tossed them to me. 'Others have a set,' she yelled, 'but it'll slow them. Go.' It was not fair; it was not right; it was not okay.

Her suffering would not be in vain. I would be there for her after all of this. I slipped out while carrying the woma—Eloise, having to walk fast on three.

'Thank you.' It was a hardened voice. With a bitten edge, ragged or rugged; humans put little force in their tones, the differences over subtle, which I should have enjoyed yet had only been annoyed by in past dealings. 'Dragonesses aren't soft.'

'That we never soften to such depths gladdens me, yea.' A bit of word practice for Vaxil. 'Gerlis thinks she helps by stuffing them into a hell such as this, by forcing them into pleasure and, if her time spent outside hunting is any sign, departing to coldly leave them alone for seasons long.'

'You can't spell revenge without even.' She had unlocked my shackles and put the key chain back into my coat, the ease of which, despite the weight, revealed a strength humans had not.

'I shall fly you to my estate after this and decide a course of action thence. Ah, noise and far too much kissing sounds ahead.' Odd. Her force was renowned for its discipline; howsoever, she served Dorissa, an influence bound to weaken such. Anyone would better rule than she, especially a gold eyes, whose lineage Zorica had traced, taking advantage of Her Grandeur's absence. It was more cloistered in here than in the city's cloister. Secured but stuffy.

The barracks were ahead. No other way. I inhaled, and I dashed through as the woman reached out to snatch a—javelin, hers?—as we passed it and I slammed the other door frozen shut and bounded down the hall and iced the floor and slipped the chamber door open and closed it behind and rushed to the bed and declared, 'Thee, Dame Vaxil the Striker, for thine aid, I, Duchess Fiosa Rincés of the Three Peeks Unclaimed, beseech!'

And I panted.

She lay on a bed in the corner of the fireplace lit room, robed in silk. She didn't move. Stomping was nearing.

'Are you okay?' Gerlis had done things to many, but they, they never went that far, had they? She had. How many more times had she.

Glazed eyes met mine as she slid off the bed, the righteous fury of the heroine of that duel, gone; she reached a half-unbent stand, and then collapsed. Eloise reached over, pulling the quilt to slice it and robe herself.

'May I help you up, please?' She nodded and, pulled up, leant on my right, but the door swung open, seven or more guards.

The vents; I pushed out as much heat as the vents allowed, the slits widening, and more air rushed in from the hall and—

Everything went white. I leapt forward in a second quieted save for the rumble of the tumbling bricks below, my torn coat hanging loose, Eloise shielded, the air blestly cooled. Vaxil didn't follow, a guard blindly tugging her leg; Vaxil slugged an awkward blow into her first then leaped after, proving forming chill unneeded.

The wall had exploded from the plunge then rise in heat, the incense flammable. Absolutely inelegant and disgraceful approach, left no other choice. Ugh, the snowfall had ceased as well. Gerlis would return swift now, although at least the entire council would attend the meeting I had called for at the southern platform, the rotunda shut in fall and winter to protect the murals from the weather. We needed wait first; the immediate momentary disarray would be frightening the council members.

We landed at a stoa and sprinted through, hatchlings taught one on one gawking as much as at Eloise as at my obliterated attire. Another leap had us at a lower level of the city, still far above the depths: the entry of the church, in the cloister of which we hid. Here, matriarch-fearing 'tals worshiped 'nesses. They were quiet even upon seeing Eloise just from being asked to hush.

'Why,' Vaxil said, runners appliquéd with matriarchs underpaw.

'An enrichened society but gives more to one; an enrichened one but more to society. A future where everyone is judged on merit alone, for the furthering of capital.'

'Thou'rt a self-licking lawbreaker.'

'And thou wilt let the greatest and weakest slave away in equal measure.'

She narrowed at the use of her tongue. 'Thou hast not fared as I have; canst thou name a single—'

'Linst, a painter who was tongue-torn mute and left to bleed out in a snowfield; Rax, a message writer who was traumatised from repeated gangrape by 'nesses for his having fur; Klek, an orphan pressed to work as a herald who was denied his own being by Gerlis. I name no suffering of my own, but of those for whom I have cared. Shall I name more, or will you stop more?'

'She gets it,' Eloise said from the floor, having fallen from my grip. Vaxil scooped her up first.

'Zorica will bring documents that expose the Queen's economic and diplomatic deficiencies as well as Laé's meddling. Ye shall be monarch, Vaxil, if not for valour, then for bereavement of choice.'

'Naught be sworn.' Guards started flying from tower far above. 'We go now.' Withered muscles limped while carrying Eloise. An offer to take her was snarled at. Would she step forth when called?

We started flying to the southern platform of a city dotted with patches of snow. Linst was probably painting.

'They say,' I shouted while we paused above the platform, scanning it, 'the rapier is the most human weapon; the lance, the most draconic; the javelin, the most orscheran.' Both ignored the small talk. We landed. No shipping was present, no caskets or pots or foodstuffs. Nothing.

'Your friend isn't here,' Eloise said.

Axila was nowhere to be seen. Something reeked, Vaxil unflinchingly unreactive as ever as I sniffed out the source: from over the edge.

Axila's corpse, hung. No warmth. No warmth at all. Eight ropes.

That blood, Mishra.

Wings flapped behind me, and the council landed, Zorica amongst them with the many notes. A few running over to follow the same actions for the same reasons for the same smell. I could not cut the ropes; what if she yet lived?

The foreguard shouted, 'Captain Axila!' They flew her up and placed her on the platform. They ignored the smell and checked for signs of life. She wasn't breathing. A hole went through one end of her chest to the other, all the blood in her body dried away.

'Axila.' Gerlis. She knelt beside her.

It was not till I spoke, quavering, that she rose. 'Ye will not slay a fellow dragoness, Gerlis...?'

'Why did you do this to her. Why.'

'I did not do this; I have been framed. She informed me of Laé's involvement with the copper, for which Mishra murdered her. Vaxil, help, please!'

Her forelimb raised to shake in the air. She did not step forth.

'No, she did not. You slander her to get at Laé's for your own ends. It is time to put your pallid sickness to rest.' She charged at me. None made to stop her. The tiles quaked.

Eloise threw her javelin square at her eye; it bounced off her nictitating membrane, not so much as a flinch earnt. Guards closed in on Vaxil and her, Fla fleeing to the estate.

I reared onto my hindlegs and drew all of the vapour from the air and frost shot out from hands become hooves, lit in a spectral light, and all were struck; all were hurtled off the platform, some to fall to the depths, Vaxil amongst the latter. Gerlis skidded all the way to the platform's end on her paws and hands, and yet, for my mocking of her coolness, she did not freeze at once to my chill. No. She glared. Then started pushing, pushing forward from the edge, heaving each step through the growing ice blanketing the floor towards me, somehow gaining speed.

'Laé murdered Axila!' I shouted to an unfeeling face, a face from the day the fell were slain. From when she snapped Kerith's neck. From when she killed her mother's defilers.

From when she killed monsters.

Damn you Gerlis; 'I am not a freak!' Liquid misted surged up from the very basin of the city—farms would give water—to float around myself and at the sides.

And into her I slammed it all. She slowed and eyes frosted and scales crased and she kept pushing but I struck in agony not misery and at last, as I leant backward to avoid her opened maw: she froze.

Then I wobbled, the ice at my paws cracked.

A breeze. A tiny, little breeze, refined beyond the winds before, pushing my antlers. Backwards. Toppled off the platform. Deceived.

My wings, frozen. Fla, she'd told position exact to Laé thinking she'd help. Seconds. Seconds. Everything. My stomach lurched as it all blurred. The bluff ended and I rolled down the treeless mountainside, pulled up to slow, and hit the base and retched, turning a grey something to a brown something. Wings of, of steel; a stravin?

'Fiosa, what's going on?'

'Klek, Klek we must flee now. Help.' Everything was blurred. Eyes burned. The colours, the red, were faded.

He pulled me up to lean against his side, brocade drifting away, and we staggered to a clearer space, a cliff ahead. My wings: tried to spread them. Too stiffened, needed a few minutes.

Minutes already up.

Cracking scales announced Gerlis's descent, unheedful of the damage she was dealing to her own body. The sheer heat in it. She would not have surprised me were she to have breathed fire. Even so, she shouldn't have broken free yet. Out for how long? Did anyone catch Axila, Axila's corpse?

'Klek, carry me up into flight. We shall outfly.'

'Too much weight.'

'Hand the gem.'

He ferreted his satchel as Gerlis landed.

'Klek? Get out of the way.'

He didn't hold my eyes as he went, gem ungiven.

'Wait, Mishra did this.'

'A lie, as every other time.'

Everything had dried, moisture depleted. But the fear held a candle to my wings.

'I don't want to die.' It was pitiable. It would work on no reasonable foe.

For a moment, she slowed.

'No one would take me in after they died. No equal, no superior most of my life. Because I'm a freak. A monster for you to slay.'

Her limbs twitched as they had in her duel with Vaxil. 'You can't live. Not after this. You've betrayed our Queen and killed one of my own.'

'This is your fault. You had long ago learnt how much harm was to come yet did nothing to stop me. You could have taken me in. You could have forced me.'

It was like a hammer had swung into her snout she stopped so still. Her lower lip trembled, maw spreading to speak, but Klek—no, Fla?!—latched onto her back from above, raking claws into her. 'Run!'

I hobbled toward the edge while she struggled to buck Fla off, too merciful simply to lay on her back and crush her, thank the matriarchs. Klek, our eyes meeting this time, off to the side as he was, made no move to help, cowering in lieu. Gerlis called him to help her. Thumps neared. She near grabbed the end of my tail before I leapt; I flew, first slow, then quick, beyond what her unthawed wings would catch. Had to hide.

I would thrash Klek were he to follow.

Grief, it would seem I was to.