It was true that size can be a boon. Just as it was also true that it could be a warrior’s greatest downfall, thus is a law known by most who had stood against those of bulker stature. I could only pray each time I slipped crown into the jaws of yon beast that my speed would hopefully make up for the difference of length and strength—given the chance my opponent could outmatch each beat by volume. My strikes were meant to be quick, painfully given in lessons of speed and agility—the trick was to be faster, smarter.

My first attack struck fairly enough, rousing his anger to the point of fury and nicking his dark flesh effectively. Though I only drew the smallest amounts of first blood to mat against his soft fur; there was little more than a few rapid heartbeats to pass—everything seemed to be soaring at top speed whenever it came to battle. Action, reaction. His wings slither apart and my eyes widened in undiluted surprise as their full length was realized; they struck the air cleanly in obvious show of rising irritant. He would attempt to swat me aside as a foolish dragonfly, though the boy would have to move quicker.

Anger was a tool, one of which I used against his tendency as he shifts up in a powerful display that gave me ample time to slide back on all fours, having only halfway risen before and in a position to keep on soaring past his flailing limbs (considering how much taller the stud was). His show of intimidation was like water on my wings, it slide off and instead of meeting his anger I find myself growing calm, even while the storm of him is ragging around.

With mere seconds to react my limbs flexed into action without a spare thought and I sail far right, trailing his left side and altogether avoiding those dangerous leathery appendages by a mixture of ducking and constant movement. Forelimbs lock and once again my golden tips dig into the warming granules, this time with my rear facing his left side. It was my hope that his flanks and barrel were still vulnerably exposed, warmed shoulders bunch up and head thrusts down as I pull my body into a kick powerful kick that sends up a swath of sand with hopes of disruption in both vision and accuracy should he try to turn those crimson pools toward me. The aim is for his left side to either upset Satantic Silks standing rear and send the lad failing toward the ground, or achieve a bruising on a few of his ribs and perhaps a wing should the vicinity be close enough for the strike.

Word count: 459
Attack (2,3)