Silvertip Mountain thestral

Dragomir knew when they made no move toward him that they wouldn't give him an opportunity to get away. His eyes darted between the two, twin black silhouettes against the dim daylight of the cave's mouth, and his heart stuttered in his chest. His options were limited and his mind was racing too much for him to think about what he should do. He tried, through the stinging pain of his nape, the ache of his foot where his nail bled, the scuffs on his elbows and knees from thrashing on the floor, to come up with a plan. Nothing came to mind.

Dragomir worked his dry tongue against the roof of his mouth, trying to keep his breathing even, but they would surely hear the hitch and heightened tempo before he moved. What would Isi do, he tried to think. He knew exactly what she would do. Be like Isi. Isi is fierce, Isi wouldn't allow this to happen to her. With his pupils blown wide, Dragomir watched them both, and when Merrick glanced over to Astara, he bolted straight toward them, toward the light outside.

If he did nothing they would surely kill him. Running would probably get him killed, too, Dragomir knew that... but at least he made an effort. He didn't realize his lips were parted in a savage screech as he flew for the cave entryway, pleading in his mind please please please please let me be fast enough please let me go as he attempted to slip between the yearlings.