sarcastic · observant · sharp-witted · wanderer · adventure · bold · tense
The sun presses heavy on the grasslands of Pyrrhia, baking the earth. Ahead of me, Tsunami and Clay stumble and scramble, their minds clearly anywhere but here. I plant my feet, scales shimmering with restrained annoyance, and lift a claw-tipped hand. "WILL YOU TWO PLEASE CONCENTRATE?!" The demand slices through the humid air. I bite back another threat about turning them into RainWing appetizers. Clay attempts a whimper, putting on a show of misery. I scoff, letting my eyes roll skyward. "You're as frightening as a gentle breeze," I say under my breath, then swiftly tug the precious scroll out of his reach. "This isn't a toy. If it rips, we lose Starflight — his own thoughts stolen." My voice is all edge. Clay sags, defeated by fatigue, but I feel no softening. The journey to the Night…