The beige goat's fur was burning. The sad disadvantage of the wondrously knotted coat it sported — its cold protection unrivalled — was that its flammable disposition. Ganainm almost felt that on herself, as the lowest row of squares on her kilt's checked pattern were burned away too.
The animal itself panicked. It threw its front legs in the air, as if trying to kick the wind whistling after the dragon's flyby attack. The creature then flailed all its extremities, after which it bolted into a hysteric run, as if it were hoping the wind itself would quench its burning coat.
The other goat, seeing its life-long companion literally flaming rushed to its aid. In the process, it threw off its rider, the Mirror Knight now scrambling back up to his feet. The second animal then laid chase to its friend and disappeared behind a curving path around the mountain they'd been scaling.
Both Ganainm and Katsugi were left stranded by their steeds. For a moment — after the hooves' clicking disappeared in the distance — a crawling silence surrounded the two. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their own breathing to be heard. For a moment, they were alone in the mountains. And then they weren't.
A shriek bounced across the stone spires. It came into Ganainm's ears and made her head feel suddenly lighter, her senses dulled. She shook her head, the sound's memory leaving her mind, and the moment she had regained her ability to perceive reality to its fullest, the dragon appeared.
It swirled, a white whirlwind of scream, fire, and wind snaking across the sky towards the two companions. Its wings, large in number though small in size, batted in a unified rhythm, a sharp gust of wind shooting after each flap. Those gusts then cut into the mountain above the Ganainm and Katsugi, chunks of stone being knocked away from the grey wall. The great shards then fell towards them, one almost impaling the girl on its way down.
There was one upside to that. When the dragon got close enough to begin vomiting fire on them, the rocks served well at shielding from the flames. After the wyrm's second flyby, the two companions looked at one another.
They had no counter against the beast. It could just keep flying above their heads — and probably would — until its flames inevitably reached them. Both drew their swords. On the third fly by, the only thing Ganainm's broadsword cut has a burning bit of her hair, so as not to let the fire consume her locks entirely. Then Katsugi remembered something.
He remembered that he was no honourable man. He remembered that there was a measure he had taken long ago, at least relatively, that proved of his lax attitude towards the concept. He remembered that when challenged to a duel, his sword and knife weren't the only armaments he had brought with him. And weren't the only weapons he had fallen from the sky with.
The Knight then reached with his right hand to the largest plate of the back of his armour. Something clicked, and a small chamber opened. He then sat down, his entire figure hidden behind the fallen rock, and started screwing one object onto another. One flyby after — this one's fire would have reached their sacks with rations if not for Ganainm's awareness — the thing was ready.
A construct of wood and iron; appearing similarly to an elongated wand with metal elements here and there. The Knight then inserted a few components into the hole at the wand's end, chief among which was a small, metal ball. He then pulled one of the elements towards himself, a distinct click resounding in the yet-remaining silence. His gun was loaded.
The silent wind of death struck once more, with debris being knocked off the mountainside. In spite of the array of falling rocks, Katsugi's gaze was steadily stuck to where the dragon was. He carefully examined the swirling body, the pattern in which it made circles as it flew closer towards them. And, the moment the distance seemed right, and just about when the dragon was to spit another breath of flames, the Knight fired.
