Page 10 of Dream Reaper

She couldn’t die in the Shadewood because he needed her.

Peregrin.

He’d already lost both his parents…their parents…and he couldn’t lose her too. He needed her, so she kept running, hands held in front of her face to push away branches and vines. Her feet stumbled through the undergrowth, thorns ripping at her skirts, shredding the stockings covering her legs.

A roar shook the very foundations of the forest.

Ava screamed and quickened her pace, grasping at a thick tangle of branches in front of her. Behind her, branches snapped like breaking bones. The roar sounded again, but closer this time.

The monster was coming after her now.

Talos must be dead. She never thought she’d be sorry for that fact, but his demise meant she would be next. She pushed her way deeper into the branches until she found the rough trunk of the tree.

Climb.

She lifted a boot, found something to brace it against, and reached over her head to find another branch. Hand over hand, she wiggled up the side of the tree, higher into the branches.

As she climbed, moonlight streaked through the leaves surrounding her. She forced herself to go higher still, so high she grew dizzy at the thought of the ground falling away beneath her.

Her head pounded. Her hands ached, damp with blood, and her legs shook so badly she feared she would fall at any moment.

Another roar ripped the silence. Oh flames, he was directly below her.

She froze, wrapping her arms around the trunk of the tree. If she was quiet, maybe he would continue on, deeper into the forest in his search for her.

One, two, three…

She worked up the nerve to open her eyes and squint at the shadows below her. Two blazing red eyes glared up at her, glittering like two flames in a pit of darkness.

A scream broiled in her chest but caught before it clawed its way out of her mouth.

CHAPTER 4

JERRID

The dragon was hungry.

So, so hungry.

But the blistering burn on his left leg also made him angry. Volcanic levels of rage washed over him in suffocating waves, over and over again.

He stared up at the tender morsel hugging the tree like a helpless squirrel. One crunch and she’d be gone, so small and bony she didn’t stand a chance of filling his stomach, of satiating the gnawing ache there. When was the last time he’d eaten his fill and been truly satisfied?

And he was particularly fond of elf. They smelled so much spicier than mountain goat or harpy. Surely that meant they tasted good too...

“Come here, little snackling.” His voice grated like a rockslide and elicited a shriek of terror from the morsel. “I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

His nostrils flared when the smell of her fear intensified, her sweat sweeter and more pungent as her body reacted to his words. She smelled like cinnamon and spice with the faintest hint of…ash.

That was curious. He cocked his head to one side and stared up through the branches of the tree, wanting to know why she smelled so familiar. Why she smelled like fire and flames and burning…like meat packed into a flaky crust and baked in a hot oven.

“Come down, Meat Pasty.”

The meat pasty stirred, tilting her face down to squint at him. “N-no!”

He chuckled, but it sounded more like a growl by the time it rolled out of his long, snaky throat. “You have spunk for a snack.”

“I won’t. I’ll not be your snack!” Meat Pasty’s voice shook but carried down to him easily in her vehemence. “Just g-go away!”