And grinned. ‘Here, suck on this, you fat winged cow.’ A solid thunk as the cusser shot out, then down. Landing within the gaping cavity of Sheltatha Lore’s belly. The explosion sent chunks of dragon flesh in all directions. The thick, red, foul rain showered down on Hedge and Quick Ben. And what might have been a vertebra hammered Hedge right between the eyes, knocking him out cold. Flung onto his hands and knees by the concussion, Quick Ben stared across at his unconscious friend, then began laughing. Higher-pitched than usual.
