Wings of Fire • Dragon of Warriors [3]

Chapter Twenty-four

Quickclaws shifted in the snow. He was surrounded by SwiftScales, all quivering with the cold and waiting for the right opportunity to strike. The mountains around them were still, the only sound being the whistling wind between the peaks. Patchy clouds blocked most of the sky and the only light source: the smallest moon. The other two were partial slivers of waxing and waning, leaving the rest of the landscape shrouded in shadows.

     An ideal night for an ambush.

     A wing shifted above him and Quickclaws looked to the side. The whitescale beside him was spreading her wings wider, making sure he and Brisktail were covered. Quickclaws adjusted his stance as well, clinging to the rocks under him.

     During the council meeting, they had agreed to a plan to capture Windwhipper and his followers. They chose two mountains that Windwhipper would pass through on his way to their temporary home, one group of soldiers hiding on each slope. As soon as Windwhipper's squadron would come into view, both groups would converge on them and (hopefully) force them to the ground.

     How did they know Windwhipper would pass through these mountains? Brisktail used his pebble and compass to figure that out. He bypassed the Council's confused questions because Quickclaws helped him out. Queen Swansong diverted their attention to more planning: how to keep the rest of the tribe safe.

     If Windwhipper got past their defences, they had moved the whole tribe again. Queen Swansong stayed with them, along with Lightningtail, Thunderclap, and Rainwind to help look after those who were sick since most of the healer dragons would be out in the battle. About half of the remaining soldiers were with them too, the last wall of defence. Quickclaws hoped the battle would never progress that far.

     Just then, Brisktail poked his arm, breaking Quickclaws out of his thoughts. He turned to him, expecting Brisktail to whisper to him but his friend pointed up.

     The spotter SwiftScale, who was poking her head between two rocks to see ahead, had just flicked her spines open. She spoke in code through motions with her wings and tail:

     "Target approaching. Prepare."

     The whole group watched, waiting. The spotter bunched her muscles, looking across the valley. Quickclaws knew there was a spire of rock jutting out partway down the slope of their peak. It was agreed that when the enemy formation passed over it, both sides would attack. Quickclaws watched and waited for the spotter's command.

     She opened six of her spines in a coded pattern: "Dive to port."

     Like a ripple caused by a stone dropped into water, the crouched SwiftScales took off one by one. They flew with long, sweeping movements of their wings to stay as silent as possible. As soon as Quickclaws cleared the ridge of the mountain, he saw the squadron of turnscales flying east: exactly sixteen dragons with PineWings on their backs.

     Their group was facing their tails. With the help of the wind muting any stray wingbeats, they would be able to get close enough to ambush the squadron correctly. Quickclaws felt the pounding of his heart in his ears as they neared.

     What he was not expecting was Windwhipper's SwiftScales to turn around just as he and the defenders were about to collide with them.

     The PineWings hadn't even turned around. The dragons were crouched on the SwiftScale's backs, flattened completely to help with streamlining. There was nothing that showed they knew of their positions, but, without warning, the attacking dragons veered out of formation and retaliated.

     SwiftScale clashed with SwiftScale, a PineWing occasionally leaping off the back of their carrier to lash at a passerby. It was complete chaos, as battles usually were, but when both sides were (more or less) from the same tribe, it added a whole new dimension and need for alertness.