Page 164 of Vasmora

“Hey!” Dravien’s grip tightened, the spider disappearing around the other side of the egg.

“There! It was a spider,” Kazhimyr said, his voice tight.

Dravien swung around, his hand brushing his dagger. “Where?”

Kazhimyr wrenched his arm free and dove for the egg, knocking it out of the way as he searched the nest.

Beside him, Dravien crouched low, cautiously poking at the branches and stones along the perimeter.

Nothing.

Kazhimyr sat back on his heels and sighed. “Perhaps I imagined it.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve eaten anything. I thought I’d hallucinated this nest, at first.” He jerked his head. “Let’s keep going. There should be a small village soon.”

A shadow slipped across the nest, and Kazhimyr slowly lifted his gaze skyward, where the distinct silhouette of a dragon flew overhead.

Fuck.

“Seems someone else is looking for food. Unless you care to be his next meal, we need to go. Now.” Dravien hustled for the nest wall, scaling it quickly to the other side.

Kazhimyr gave one more sweep for the spider before moving, and he’d just managed to climb over the edge of the nest, when the dragon swooped down, forcing him to cling to the rim. The nest shook with a bone-jarring thud as the dragon landed, nearly knocking him off, but Kazhimyr clung tight, eyes closed, praying it hadn’t spotted him.

The beast on the other side of the branch wall chuffed and sniffed, and through the small gaps in the weaving, Kazhimyr watched it knock its nose against the one intact egg. He knocked it again and sniffed, then tossed the egg into the air before catching it down his gullet. When the beast lowered its head, Kazhimyr ducked low to avoid being seen.

Muscles trembling, Kazhimyr glanced up to see its giant snout drag over the edge of the nest, its nostrils flaring. When it exhaled, an unbearably humid squall rained down over him, and he screwed his eyes shut, his skin damp with dragon’s breath. The beast grunted and quickly drew back its snout.

Peering through the gaps again, Kazhimyr saw it shake its head and hiss. From its mouth, crawled a thin black vein that pulsed over its opalescent green scales and branched down the dragon’s neck like a fissure. Its vertical pupil expanded over bright yellow irises, like black liquid seeping into the corners.

The dragon angled its head just enough that the eye seemed to fix on him, staring at him through the branches. The strangling fear that should’ve churned in Kazhimyr’s chest couldn’t quite grip him as he stared back. More fascinated than terrified. Instead, a strange connection seemed to pass between them, one beyond his understanding while somehow reaching into the darkest corners of his mind.

The dragon stared a moment longer, drawing blackness from the fringes of Kazhimyr’s vision.

“Seek him,” a too-familiar voice chimed in his head.

The violent beat of the dragon’s wings sent a gust of wind over Kazhimyr, breaking him of the spell as the beast launched up into the sky.

Still, he clung to the nest, waiting until it finally flew off.

“Fucking hell, that was close.” Below him, Dravien climbed out from the piled rocks and moss where he’d hidden.

Exhaling a breath, Kazhimyr released the nest and dropped the remaining height to the soft sand. “Thought you said there weren’t any dragons along this route.”

“Haven’t been this way in about three decades.”

“Would’ve been nice for you to add that bit.”

They kept on, trudging through the sand, until the soft white turned a coarse brown and trees dotted the landscape in expanding stretches of forest. Curls of smoke rose over the crest of a hill ahead of them, and the two exchanged a quick glance toward each other before racing for the top of it.

Keeping low to the ground, they peered down at a small cottage at the edge of the forest. From the thick branch of an oak, a deer hung trussed by its legs, its belly split open.

Kazhimyr’s mouth watered at the sight of it, and he mindlessly pushed to his feet.

“Hey.” Dravien yanked his arm. “What are you doing?”

Wrenching his arm free, Kazhimyr strode down the hill toward the animal, the metallic sting of blood already filling his mouth as he imagined the first bite. Without ceremony or hesitation, he shoved his hand into the carved opening of its carcass and yanked out whatever he could grasp. Muscle and fat filled his palm, and Kazhimyr shoved it into his mouth. He damned near shuddered as the raw flavor of wild herbs and cedar danced across his tongue, the rich iron prickling and satisfying.

“Seven fucking hells, are you well?” Dravien’s voice broke his elation, and he turned to find the Elvyniran staring back at him, brows drawn tight.