We slogged on in the morning, trying to overcome morning fatigue and drowsiness. Every little bush and standing tree passed only served to remind the village we lost, as well as the unwitting peace soon to be disturbed.

I'm narrating too quickly. Alright, not too long passed until we were beset by arrows, Parthian shots whizzing past our ears and heads. One skipped past my coat in the middle of the confusion and chaos, leaving a small tear that quickly left me awake. "Oh goodness, not this again." I reached into my pocket and swung out one of my knives, enchanted and warm to my hands; dragonsteel, green and shimmering with a degree of dragon's rage.

I positioned myself carefully, focused and rigid against the morning chill. One quick jerk threw the knife out of my right hand as it cut through the air, through smoke and cold breaths into the left arm of the Drake. A little spark unsettled him if the plunging of a knife didn't. I wasn't exactly intent on killing the Drake, but peace didn't seem much of an option at this point.