A Fighter

"How nice to see you, Lirle." The voice came from a gray dragon with blood red eyes. His sharp and pointy teeth glistened like they held their own light.

Huge talons clamped around Lirle from behind, holding her like a sharpened straight jacket. She gasped and struggled but couldn't move. Her captor's clutches were bigger than Lirle's body.

The first dragon looked at me. "And you are Jasmine, heir to Sharra and an original vampire. But where are your wings?" He opened his mouth and I thought he intended to burn me to a crisp. Instead his tongue came out and he licked me. Tasting. "Strange," he said.

"Gross." I wiped my cheek with the sleeve of my shirt. It occurred to me he was speaking like Abernathy did, with his mouth and not in my mind like Lirle. Perhaps speaking aloud was a skill that came with age.

The first dragon pushed through the trees, causing them to snap and break. Then he pounded his tail on the ground several times in a rhythmic fashion while lifting his head. He ro