While calming her breath, Merlize drew a handful of golden arrows from her quiver. They flew like shooting stars at Larson.
The crimson-scaled boy grabbed her shots, spat some flames on its sparking ends, and threw them back at her. “Is this how far your training got you? So basic.”
The orange-haired girl rolled away from the incoming shots and fired another one. This, too, was thrown back at her.
The dragonoid grinned at her, removing his black coat. Two fingers gestured for her to attack.
Merlize closed her eyes, feeling the direction of the wind. It blew behind her to the east. The screeching crows disrupted her concentration. When she opened her eyes, the dragonoid was gone.
Larson jutted wings out of his back, dashing toward her side, swiping his overheated tail to her face. The tribal-clothed girl barely had time to dodge and slammed against Travis, who was tending to Nyatalia’s wounds half a kilometer away.