Ring a round a rosie,
A pocket full of posies,
Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down

Dragon claws miss the fluid white mane that could be considered a worn out drape from some dusty haunted house, full of dust and grime and yet continuing to show an off-white in spots. His front end was making a quicker retreat than his hind, having pivoted around and pointed away. Cineviam felt the heat from the first blast of fire on his haunches and his tail started snapping back and forth, hoping to distract the brown reptile. Adrenaline inspired his back legs to push faster, harder and further away than he originally intended.

A couple more blasts followed and the bottom of his tail curled and smoked from the heat. He was lucky – this time – that only his hair was singed and skin was left unharmed. When it became clear that the dragon wasn’t going to take flight and immediately pursue, he put on the brakes and wheeled about, bloodied eyes honing in on Kiba. He already decided that if he were to attempt a second charge, his payback was running the brown through with his horn like a stuck pig.

Cineviam the Dragonslayer- it had a nice ring to it, no?

Instead his gaze was met by an unexpected sight. It was not Torasin whirling about in an effort to run away because he should have foreseen that, and after marking the golden rump he should have tried to retreat back to his original position where he sealed off the rear. If peaches and cream got away before Mauja wanted him too, Cineviam knew it would be because of his impulsiveness. At first, he had no idea what was happening to the dragon, only that something was not right. He thought it was connected to the ground rumbling until an impressive ice spike shot out of the ground in front of Torasin. A dark madness shivered through his bones and surged from every pore in his callous body as he looked toward his leader. This was the first time Cineviam had gotten a glimpse at what built Mauja’s throne – it was cold and sharp and could be used to cut up unsuspecting victims pretty badly.

Good to know.

Lowering his horn so it was parallel to the ground, he bluffed an attack not once but twice. Each time it brought the cinderbeast closer back to the fray but still managing to keep a distance between him and the brown dragon. The feints also kept the targets distracted, so they didn’t focus entirely on Mauja while he waited for some indication of what the ice-king wanted done with the hornless Sun preacher.

Run out of The Edge kicking and screaming?

Death?

So far it looked like target practice, but his rash behavior had almost let Torasin get away once already.