Sleeping Dragon i have watched holy men immolate on the banks of Nile

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Eske is a sound sleeper.

The rock of earth beneath her is enough to wake even the dead and (luckily) she awoke, startled and disoriented. At first, groggy from sleep still she did not register the danger she was in and this time Gyda did not come to rouse her. Gyda and Gavriel were far away. Safe. Another tremor lurches the earth beneath her, the roar of the dragon mighty, the choke of ash and smoke filling her black, leathery nostrils. Wide eyed she scrambled out of the den before it could collapse in on her. Though she was not clear of danger she eyed the volcano with terror in her eyes, and horror freezing her blood in her veins. She remembered the nonchalance, the jokes she made of the plume of ash and smoke that the dragon and spewed forth during the supermoon. It was a warning, she realized now.

Heda's call was barely caught over the roar of the beast in the belly of the earth as it rumbled and writhed, ready to break free of it's rock prison. A part of her was stubborn, stupid. She did not want to leave. This place was her home. She, too, was a dragon; but if she did not flee she would not live to see another dawn and she had too much life to live. This was not something she could fight and thus she deferred to her flight instincts, willing her legs frozen with shock and fear to move; and once she began to run she had no desire to stop until she joined her Heda, or met up with them in the North.

Eske did not spare a look back. They were not returning. She had the inkling as she pushed herself out of the territories' borders that there wouldn't be anything worth returning to. Besides, back was not the way she was going.

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