Creative Corner

(PS: How is everyone finding the chapter length? I know they vary a bit but I try not to make them too long or too short)

@Cerastes

Ping list please?

You're a wonderful writer. The chapter length is fine. Honestly I want more, haha.

Your feedback is all very helpful, thank you! ^^ @Averis - added, thanks for the interest!

[center][b]Chapter 13: Nothing Worth Stealing[/b] @LagMonster @Khoshekh @Twelvewishes @Stormsinger @starslang @Scyras @excessnight @pensandink @Solaristigres @Nihilo @WillowWhisper @Averis[/center] The death’s-head stag appeared a little while after Chime was back on her feet. It had taken her a full four days to overcome the dizziness – well past the standard window for exaltation, but Shrike was willing to let that go. Their little band didn’t exactly resemble a mirror pack. Clementine was the first to spot the little creature; it was watching them from some distance away, hovering, its slender legs prancing a nervous beat in the air as it realized it had been spotted. “Shrike?” the tundra asked, tensed and ready for a command to attack. Shrike paused a moment to consider it. Death’s-heads were at most skittish opportunists, mostly feeding off the abandoned kills of others – a group of them might attack if their prey was weak or injured, but it would be unusual for one to take on three adult dragons. “Leave it be. It looks more curious than aggressive, I think.” She watched Clementine flare her wings at it, and at the motion her storm seekers cawed a warning. The deaths-head skittered even further away, but didn’t bolt. Chime was surveying it from beneath the brim of her hat. “Isn’t there some kind of Icefield belief about those things? You know, portentous, omen of –“ “Don’t,” Shrike quietly cut her off. The spiral looked at her oddly but didn’t continue. Shrike didn’t consider herself superstitious in the slightest – her and her friends had always used to laugh about the dire predictions of the pack’s elders. But something was unsettling about the way the death’s-head was just eerily [i]watching. [/i] Superstition or not, being patiently followed by a scavenger was not comforting. The creature continued to trail along behind them as they went, hanging back warily; Shrike tried to ignore it. They were following the very edge of the cliffs, still trying to replenish their food stocks after their disastrous hunting trip a few days ago. This time, they were going about it much more carefully; Shrike made sure to seek out weaker prey that Chime wouldn’t have a problem with, and the two of them were ready to leap to her aid at any time. Thankfully, the spiral seemed to be quickly improving with a little practice, and they managed to take down several quarry without much of an issue. Chime was unusually quiet; she would flash Shrike her brilliant, charming smile whenever she looked her way, but beneath it there was something tense and subdued. As annoying as the thief’s glibness could be, Shrike found herself missing it. “Are you feeling all right?” she asked when the two of that had a moment together; Clementine was up ahead investigating some scrap of wood her storm seeker had found. The muscles in Chime’s jaw tightened. “I’m fine.” It was the longest conversation the two of them had for the rest of the day. Once the hazy twilight of the day had faded, the three of them made their way back to the lair they’d found in the cliffs. Chime picked at her meal before going to bed without a word, opting to disappear into one of the side tunnels instead of continuing to sleep in the den’s main cavern. It was odd enough to make Clementine shoot her a worried glance and a whispered question. “Do you think she’s…ok?” Shrike didn’t know how to answer. “I don’t know.” Maybe the spiral was just having residual headaches from her concussion, or maybe she was simply embarrassed by the whole ordeal. Whatever it was, she hoped it wasn’t serious or permanent; for all of Chime’s shiftiness and exasperating commentary, she’d come to regard the spiral as a friend. “We’ll talk about it more in the morning, Clem.” Shrike had trouble getting to sleep that night. Outside, a storm howled, and somewhere the deaths-head was waiting. [center][img]http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JUtDBTct_0Q/UQlPKIEt-KI/AAAAAAAALEQ/_G9dBj28G44/s1600/snowflake_divider.gif[/img][/center] When Shrike awoke, Clementine and Chime were gone, along with the tundra’s bird. She didn’t think much of it; the two had been spending a lot of time together recently, and Clementine had kindly promised to take the other dragon out sometime for some one-on-one hunting lessons. Which meant that Shrike would have the lair to herself for a while, and there would maybe even be some extra food when they got back. [i]Wouldn’t hurt to poke my head outside, though.[/i] From the sound of things last night, they’d gotten quite a bit of snow; there was a tunnel of sorts at the den’s mouth where Clementine and Chime had dug their way out. Shrike popped her head outside, blinking in the suddenly dazzling morning light. If she was lucky, the storm would have driven away the – Nope. Still there. The little deaths-head clearly hadn’t given up on its goal of creepily following her around. It seemed to have grown bolder overnight, and almost came right up to her; it even only moved back a short distance when she hissed at it, fluttering its wings in agitation. “Leave me alone,” she told it firmly, but the creature only cocked its head at her. She wasn’t particularly keen on hanging out along with its somewhat sinister presence, so she decided she’d try to catch up to Chime and Clementine; their tracks were still sharp and fresh in the new blanket of snow, so they couldn’t have been gone long. She began following the footprints, grateful that at least the breed change scroll hadn’t taken away her ability to track. The two dragons’ prints were side by side, following roughly the course they’d taken yesterday – right alongside the edges of the cliffs, keeping the tundra on their right and the frozen sea on their left. The deaths-head, irritatingly, was never far behind. The first hints of unease came after a couple minutes; there was suddenly something off about the tracks she was following. The strides lengthened; the two had been trotting, and then, here, flat-out running. Maybe they had just spotted prey and were giving chase, but Shrike wasn’t sure. Something felt wrong. Increasingly concerned, she followed until the tracks veered away from four large depressions in the snow – no, not depressions. These were tracks, clearly dragon, but each was the size of Shrike’s body. Something huge had landed here – a guardian maybe, or a ridgeback, and Clementine had been running away, Chime close on her heels. Up ahead, there was an area of churned snow – signs of a struggle. Shrike tried to ignore her racing heart. [i]Focus.[/i] If she wanted to help her friends, she had to read the tracks, figure out what happened here, just as she had been taught to do since she was a hatchling. She’d been assuming that Chime and Clementine were fighting off the newcomer, but the more she studied the confused scene before her, the more a terrible reality began to assert itself. There were too many misplaced tracks, too many odd angles for the large dragon to be fighting off two attackers. [i]No. This can’t be true. She wouldn’t.[/i] But tracks, unlike spirals, never lied. Chime's track patterns were not that of prey, but of a hunter. Rage like bile rising in her throat, Shrike followed the story to its end. There were three deep gouges in the snow here – three, as if the big dragon had been clutching something in one of its front feet. And close by, the imprint of a long, skinny dragon launching itself into the air. Chime had left with the attacker of her own free will. [i]It’s not like I have anything worth stealing.[/i] Shrike’s own words were ringing in her ears like alarm bells. [i]Clementine.[/i]

@Scyras - I think you can consider the other shoe officially dropped! :O