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“Gator, this is Nya,” Slate, the dragon king, said as Nya followed him over to where the others were training. The fellow in question, a ginormous man, only an inch or so shorter than Slate himself, with massive, bulging muscles, was dressed all in black, a similar outfit to the one Slate always wore, except there were no red accents.
Gator eyed Nya for a moment, his eyes traveling from her head to her toes and then back again. He nodded, his dark, shoulder-length hair swaying slightly with the movement of his head. “Nya?” he questioned.
“Yes. That’s me,” she said, taking a deep breath and brushing her own hair over her shoulder. She was dressed in the same outfit she’d worn when she arrived but it had been cleaned. She knew she could move in it well since it was what she’d worn to ambush Slate. Still, fight
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