Zel fit action to word as he strode out of the tent. All or nothing. The cold air was harsh on his scales. Was today the day he died? He hoped it wasn’t. But if it was, he’d go down with a claw on Ilvriss’s damned throat. He probably wouldn’t die. A captive was just what the leaders of the Walled City wanted. High-level officers and [Generals] were too valuable to lose in a small war like this. The Drake growled under his breath as he stomped through the snow. He clenched his hands as he growled. “What a burning stupid reason for a war.”
:(
