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She tossed her head and bared two rows of teeth, the outer sharp, the back blunt and yellowing. Loose scales around her maw suggested she was close to shedding her skin. Her discomfort would make her all the more aggressive and dangerous.
Short legs with long claws slid out from under her torso. She dug into the sand and dragged the rest of her body free. She had no wings, but her tail bore a piece of bone which could kill a man—or wolf—with one blow if he got close enough.
I bobbed my head and the rest of the pack descended to the bottom of the dune.
Dex gave a short bark to the shifter with the broken leg and tossed his head back toward the top of the dune.
The wolf gave him a mournful look and whimpered, but with his leg, he would be a liability.
You live to hunt another day, I thought, even though he couldn't hear me.
The wolf, a shifter named Felix, sighed and began the trudge back up on three paws.
Lucky for him it wasn't his head he'd broken. Small consolation for missing the glory of taking on the dragon.
I barked for everyone to be quiet and stepped to the side, my eyes on the dragon's mouth.
A pointed red tongue flicked out past both rows of teeth and tasted the air. She had no eyes that I could see. Sand dragons hunted their prey by sensing vibrations and odours. She would have felt the us approach long before we got there.
For good measure, I asked Hades to watch over us all.
I nodded to a pale grey wolf several metres away. Most of Trevor's head was covered in scars, which left lines of white in his fur. He never said how he got the scars. In human form, he covered them with a beard. In this form, he had nowhere to hide them. To my eyes, at least, he looked badass.
Trevor threw back his head and howled, loud and shrill. He bared his teeth and took off at a run parallel to the dragon.
Her head whipped around, tongue flicked toward him.
He ducked and rolled. The appendage missed him by a hair. Eyes wide, he lay still.
She whipped her head in confusion and anger, and let out a grunt of rage.
Another wolf approached her from the other side.
Pete was younger than me, but more solid. His white wolf moved lighter and slower than his size suggested. His gait was loose and fluid, but his eyes were half closed in concentration.
He moved closer, each step deliberate. He stopped a few metres from her, then charged. He swept his claws toward the dragon, deep enough to score her scales but not enough to draw blood.
A diagonal slash split her skin.
She swung her head toward him and lunged, teeth snapping. They narrowly passed over his head, so close she might have ripped free a strand of fur or two.
He threw himself sideways into the sand where he lay for a moment before he tried to scramble to his feet.
The dragon dragged herself forward, faster than I would have thought possible. One talon hooked into Pete's torso. Hard keratin ground against bone. Blood splattered, painted her foot red. Sand immediately coated it, stuck to wet scales.
The talon all but tore Pete down the middle. He barely managed a last whimper before he flopped like a doll.
I let out a howl of frustration. The death of any wolf always sucked. I tried not to take it personally. I would anyway. I led; I would always feel responsible.
I caught Dex's eye, his own look of anguish, and shook my head.
Mourning would have to wait.
The dragon trudged a few more steps. Pete dangled from her talon.
A sick feeling rose in my throat, along with the desire to dart forward and free the man's body.
I pressed my ears back flat, but suppressed the urge. Pete wouldn't feel anything now. Getting myself killed wouldn't bring him back.
