Wings of Fire • Dragon of Secrets [2]

Chapter Twenty-two

Brisktail cursed. His tail lashed, swiping snow. Windwhipper looked right through him, watching in amazement as a seemingly invisible force destroyed the white dusting.

     How did I fall for that? He growled at himself inwardly, trying to think of a way to escape.

     "You're wondering how you fell for that. Well, let me tell you, one can work wonders with a simple piece of twine and a bell. Once I heard word of an animus SwiftScale I was dying to meet him. I'm glad he's finally here."

     The light-scaled dragon stood up, walking closer. Brisktail took two steps back, and Windwhipper chuckled at the talon prints showing through the snow.

     "You can take that enchantment off. You won't be needing it anymore."

     Brisktail snarled in anger, his tail slapping the ground again as he fished in his pouch for it. He took the pebble out and threw it away in frustration, smoke rising from his nose as he glared at the smug dragon.

     Windwhipper smiled at him. "Come, make yourself at home," he stated, gesturing to a pile of furs in the corner. Brisktail didn't move from his spot.

     Windwhipper heard that he hadn't moved and turned around. "Well? What are you waiting for? I already gave you an invitation. What's the worst that could happen to you?"

     His words had a way of getting under Brisktail's scales as if he was obliged to listen to them. He stepped forward, going over the string this time and sitting down on the furs and glaring at the dragon.

     Windwhipper turned back to his scrolls, checking over them and turning a few over. Brisktail spotted notes on the backs of the maps and his talons itched to read them - he could only make out a few words that had no meaning out of context. He flicked his tail in annoyance and shifted his weight. Windwhipper paid no mind to him, calmly adding to his notes. Brisktail watched him, trying to see if he could read what he was writing. 

     "What do you plan to do with my friends?" Brisktail asked, glaring at the dragon.

     Windwhipper looked up from his maps. "I need to kill Lightningtail to ensure my takeover is successful. Perhaps the others if they pose a threat. Which, judging by your actions, they probably will be."

     Brisktail's stomach churned. "And are you going to do it yourself?"

     "Pffft, of course not!" Windwhipper exclaimed as if it as common knowledge. "It's best that I don't involve myself so that no one can trace anything back to me. Then again, you've ruined that too."

     "Swansong knows," Brisktail tried. He raised his head and stared down triumphantly at him.

     "Swansong can choke on a fishbone," Windwhipper snarled, the quill in his talons breaking. He lashed his tail, glared at Brisktail and stomped off to get another one on the other end of the stone table.

     Brisktail had hit a sore spot. He hoped he could work on it. He stood up from the furs and walked over to the maps on the table, opposite from the side that Windwhipper was on. The dragon returned and resumed writing, the quill scratching the parchment noisily due to the extra pressure.

     "What did she ever do to you?"

     At this, the dragon stilled, letting the quill slip from his claws. The air felt colder. Brisktail stared at the other dragon, studying his face and finding Windwhipper's silver eyes hard with... a thought Brisktail did not dare name. Instead, he watched as the SwiftScale contemplated something, then seemingly thought against it. When he spoke next, Brisktail had to blink at the change in subject.