Who knew one terrible mistake could trigger a war so quickly. It hadn't even been a few months, and news of the Kinsmen of the Dark gaining grounds constantly reached their ears. Every able body was requested by the Council of Thirds to join the fro...
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Ravi, land. Nagan left no room for argument, even going so far as to impress his will onto his dragon through their newly enforced bond. He could feel her trying to resist the command.
But Nagan—
Land!
A shot of anger ran through Nagan's mind as Ravi growled deeply, sharply diving down towards a clearing in the trees. Nagan had no way of knowing where they were, but he knew they weren't far from the mountain city. There was only so much he could take, watching Ravi beat her wings in vain as she shuddered painfully, and he had seen enough suffering.
Ravi landed heavily on the ground, Kint close behind. Az grunted from the abruptness, and Ravi rumbled a quiet apology. Through the trees, Dockard emerged from where he followed on the ground. With a dislocated wing, he couldn't fly at all. At least, that was what he suspected and told Milora. Now that Nagan could see the wing itself, limp and dragging on the ground, he believed it. That would have to wait until someone who knew how to fix it arrived.
And who knows when that will be, Nagan thought bitterly. A wave of anger washed over him at that moment, and he gave each of their dragons a glare.
"Protect the hoard," he seethed, sliding off of Ravi's back and firmly ignoring any effort to talk to him. Instead, he focused on helping Az off the saddle.
Ravi continued trying to talk to him—to reason with him—but Nagan wanted none of it. There were too many things going through his head. If he wanted his remaining comrades to survive, he needed to focus.
And that's what he did. With a few short words, he set Milora to help Az bind his wounds. The stab wound oozed lazily now, but even Nagan knew it wasn't something they could fix any further. Not with the materials they had left. All they could do now was clean and wrap their scrapes and bruises the best they could, and hope help would arrive before something nasty set in. All the while, Nagan paced around the dragons, setting up alarm barriers with what little magic he had left. His circuits ached terribly, a dull throb pulsing through his limbs at every incantation, but Nagan wanted to be the first to know if anything—or anyone—approached them.
"Should I start a fire?" Milora asked softly when Nagan made his way back to them. He shook his head.
"No. I don't want us to be seen, and right now, none of us are in any shape to be casting an invisibility or light-blocking spell. The dragons will keep us warm enough."
"We should at least try healing the dragons," Az muttered, his head and back leaning against Kint's side. His eyes stared at nothing, and his hand almost mindlessly dug into the medic's pack at his side. After a few moments, he pulled out a small vial of a white powder and held it out to Nagan. "Use this on Ravi's wing. There isn't much you can use on membrane except keeping it clean, but Ravi's wings are made of flesh."
Nagan took the vial. "The coagulant? Why didn't you use it on yourself?"
