Chapter 17 - Sweet Talk

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Before he could reach her, a thunderous creak echoed through the cave, drawing everyone's attention to a large stalactite that dangled dangerously from the ceiling until it surged towards a perched Icewing.

Icicle? Winters mind clicked, THREE MOONS! That's going to stab her! She's going to die! his head screamed

He flew forward, beating his wings frantically. He needed to reach her so he could push her out of the way!

She's going to die! his head roared with every slow wingbeat


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"But uh," Moon mumbled nervously, peering shyly at at Qibli and Winter, "We do have a few other suspects, though."

"Oh?" Winter asked, raising an astronomically highbrow in surprise, "Go on, don't hold back on my account."

Moon shifted uncomfortably, as though she were nervous about telling him. Though, Winter couldn't imagine why. Who was he to intervene in the catching a culprit?

Qibli threw a wing around him, he glanced at Moon, a smirk plastered on his face as he encouraged her,

"Maybe he can use his genius Icewing brain to help us out, he's not entirely a lost cause."

Winter barked out a laugh, a smirk appearing on his own features as he pushed Qibli off,

"You're only noticing how incredibly useful I am now?"

Qibli made a face and detached himself from Winters wing to instead pace between him and Moon, who chewed her lip contemplatively.

"Qibli," she offered, "the only other reservations we had were about Sora, Flame, and..." she glanced at Winter sheepishly, "and Icicle."

Winter immediately flared his wings aggressively. 

"My sister is NOT some cowardly murderer!" he growled lowly

"So she's just... a murder of the regular sort?" Qibli asked with a knowing tone

"She's not one at all!" Winter cried in indignance, "She's just... not very open-minded. Or approachable. And slightly menacing. That's all."

Qibli grunted in polite acknowledgment and a exchanged a dubious look with Moon. 

It was true that Icicle was never accused of being the kindest dragon around, but she still had her moments of goodness. At least Winter hoped so.

Winter recalled when he, Icicle, and Hailstorm were out on a hunting trip when they were younger, and Icicle had seen Winter struggle to spear a polar bear and she came to help.

Winter frowned to himself as he played through the memory, didn't she get the credit for the kill? She got to take my spot beside Glacier that night.

He cringed. Okay, so maybe not then.

But what about when during the war, when Winter had been flanked on all sides by Mudwings, Icicle had swooped through with gleaming claws, and raked the throats of any Mudwings in her path? Didn't that temporarily distract his group of attackers?

He shivered, remembering how her gleeful cackle had even distracted him. It rang out maliciously as she confidently slashed and froze Mudwings by the dozen, red on cool blue.

So maybe Icicle wasn't the best, she had her share of despicable deeds, but even this was below her. Or so he hoped.

"Flame I could believe," Winter continued, desperately looking for a change in subject, "shockingly, he's not the friendliest dragon in the world."

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