The guards crashed into each other in a desperate attempt to escape - to flee the danger barely a few footsteps behind them. One fell behind, his name lost to those who carried on his legend, but it was his - although involuntary - sacrifice that allowed for the infant they carried to survive.
When they finally emerged from the dark, deep caverns they stopped for just a moment, to turn back and look at what they just escaped.
Dragons, hoards of giant, deadly dragons writhing behind the sunlight in fury and hatred tore apart the lost soldier with violent displays of teeth and claws. The men cringed, and turn their heads away from the grotesque scene. After all, there was nothing they could possibly do for their fallen comrade.
They continued to move away from the scene, and out of range of any Firebreath, for even under the Magick Laws, a dragon’s fire would reach them if they weren't careful.
They settled on a clearing to the east of the caverns, and finally took a moment to check their surroundings.
"Two towns to the South, Sir. They seem to be mostly fishing and trading posts from what I can tell, there aren't any guard posts nearby," Said one of the soldiers, who held a looking device against his eye. “We could find haven there.”
Finnick, the man he had referred to as Sir, nodded and sat down on a fallen log. He recalled the prophesy he’d heard as boy so many years ago:
Dragons shall be bound by the Magick Laws of the Irathi to remain in pure darkness less the fires in their bellies burn them from the inside out. They shall remain there until the day that the twice blessed, twice cursed heir of two kingdoms at war shall set them free and bring peace to the world of men and magick.
That heir was the bundled up child in the arms of a man much more comfortable with a sword in his hand then an infant not even a days old, thought Finnick as he stared down at the child in his arms. They were sure it was the child of prophecy, for on its chest it held the glowing mark of a dragonborn, a hybrid bred from the magic of a dragonkin man and an Irathian woman - a hybrid that had not been seen since the days of old and a time before the great Dragonoid Wars.
Finnick had no idea what he would do with the child now that they’d retrieved it, but he knew no matter what his life suddenly revolved around the growing newborn in his arms.
If nothing else, he had to make sure she survived.
~~
Go! MOVE! Mel thought to herself, her breathing hitched and desperate. How could you have been so stupid? You know better, damn it!
She moved through the trees as quickly as she could, the foliage thick as she tried to push even deeper into the forest. Every branch and root seemed to come at her, attacking mercilessly and slowing her down. She jumped over a fallen tree, only to run stomach first into a large branch and gaped as the wind was forcibly shoved out of her lungs. She fell onto the floor of the jungle and tried to gain back her bearings. She got up again unsteadily, but when she heard the voices that were after her she took off running one more time. Every snapped twig under her made her cringe, but it wasn’t the time to be stealthy and she knew it. Her only hope now was to run, to get to some kind of safety as fast as she could.
If they caught her she was dead, she knew it and yet fatigue told her to give up. She closed her eyes for a moment, wiping her bloodied hands on her cheek to get rid of the tears and tried to control her breathing. She looked around, there had to be some kind of hiding place somewhere.
