.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
01-22-2013, 05:03 AM
 A deep, rumbling growl seemed to vibrate through the very ground. It came from a cave, a hole in the ground that did not look large enough for a horse to fit in. But a lizard the size of a horse, far more flexible and muscular, could crawl into this hole, hide, and hear all that went on nearby. The growling rumbled up through the undergrowth, growls of a dragon. A golden head appeared from the cave, soon followed by the sinewy, sparkling hide of the WeyrLeader. A snarl was upon her draconic face, one triggered by the fact that a stranger had happily waltzed into her homeland without so much of a hesitation at the borders. Why do some think they are entitled to walk upon private lands when they have done little more than happen upon them. Is the scent of the realm not clear? The scents of the nearby guards? Domineering and critical, she looked for the intruder, nostrils flaring, an ashen trail of smoke rising into the air above them. Akaith, a miniature version of the WeyrLeader in this bodice, flew above, chirruping angrily at the intruder, unafraid to show him her annoyance. Mirage stood, her long, serpentine nape arched, her scales bristled, her tail swaying to and fro with anxious irritation. "Do you often waltz across the borders of herdlands?" The deep, draconic voice hummed, with a low growl accenting the words. Wings flourished at her sides, the dazzling, glittering scales shimmering even in the light that was dappled by the canopy above. larfsalot.deviantart.com |
