The red opens its mouth, exposing sharp, glistening fangs, and fire erupts along the sides of its tongue, streaming through the air and into the path ahead of Rhiannon. She yells in shock. Heat blasts the front of my face. Then it’s over. The scent of sulfur and burned grass…burned…something fills my lungs, and I see a charred patch of ground in front of Rhiannon that hadn’t been there before. “Are you all right, Rhi?” I call forward. She nods, but the movement is hurried and jerky. “Pryor is… He’s…” Pryor’s dead.
guess that red got annoyed with his indecisiveness...
