Cass breathes hard, her armor little more than cinders and her hair a mess. She’s lost her sword. The stink of brimstone is heavy in her nostrils, and she’s almost certain her leg is broken. The dragon, lurking in the shadows with its ruined wings, is worse off.
“I’ll devour you, dragonslayer.” Its voice is like a millstone.
“You’ve been saying that since I got here.”
She sits, careful with her leg. They eye each other across the mounds of treasure.
“I’ve heard of you, you know,” it says.
“Not all of it bad.”
“Well,” she laughs. “That’s something.”