Zaeren's thoughts were silent to her as he fell into a blind rage. Watching was all she could do as he threw himself at the king in a flurry of claws, fangs, and blood. This was to her advantage; with the king distracted Brianna had an opportunity to make it to her daggers, which lay halfway across the room.
Moving her body was a challenge. Everything hurt, from her broken ribs to her bruised limbs. The king's tail had done a number on her, but as the thrill of the hunt set in Brianna felt her body slip into the familiar, comfortable numbness brought on by adrenaline. She moved on autopilot, just as she'd done on that day. The scar on her shoulder throbbed, a phantom pain from the day the wound had been inflicted on her. Before she knew it the daggers had settled into the palms of her hands, her fingers coiling around the hilts.
Her bare feet struck the stone floor, slowly at first, then rapidly picking up speed. The dragons were larger than her, but she was faster. More agile.
By the time Zaeren had ripped off the king's second wing, Brianna was underfoot, snaking her way between his legs and the discarded wings. Blood sprayed her body; her feet were already coated, but it was too late for her to stop. With a roar, the kelahati launched herself from the ground and onto the king's soft underbelly. He had been laid prone by Zaeren's assault--all the easier for her to go for the throat. She was but a tiny insect compared to the dragons above her. All the harder for him to hit her.
She leapt and clawed her way up his scutes to the soft flesh of his throat, avoiding claws while blasts of magic rolled off her skin. The flames that hit singed her flesh, but she felt nothing. The feline was fueled by the urge to survive and avenge her people.
She dug the claws of her toes between the scutes of his soft neck for support, her toes sinking into the soft flesh. Gripping the daggers tightly, she aimed for the space between the scales of his throat and thrust in with all the strength she could muster.
Moving her body was a challenge. Everything hurt, from her broken ribs to her bruised limbs. The king's tail had done a number on her, but as the thrill of the hunt set in Brianna felt her body slip into the familiar, comfortable numbness brought on by adrenaline. She moved on autopilot, just as she'd done on that day. The scar on her shoulder throbbed, a phantom pain from the day the wound had been inflicted on her. Before she knew it the daggers had settled into the palms of her hands, her fingers coiling around the hilts.
Her bare feet struck the stone floor, slowly at first, then rapidly picking up speed. The dragons were larger than her, but she was faster. More agile.
By the time Zaeren had ripped off the king's second wing, Brianna was underfoot, snaking her way between his legs and the discarded wings. Blood sprayed her body; her feet were already coated, but it was too late for her to stop. With a roar, the kelahati launched herself from the ground and onto the king's soft underbelly. He had been laid prone by Zaeren's assault--all the easier for her to go for the throat. She was but a tiny insect compared to the dragons above her. All the harder for him to hit her.
She leapt and clawed her way up his scutes to the soft flesh of his throat, avoiding claws while blasts of magic rolled off her skin. The flames that hit singed her flesh, but she felt nothing. The feline was fueled by the urge to survive and avenge her people.
She dug the claws of her toes between the scutes of his soft neck for support, her toes sinking into the soft flesh. Gripping the daggers tightly, she aimed for the space between the scales of his throat and thrust in with all the strength she could muster.
