Zion Petrie

The Brood Mother

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Once the young adults of Asidea hunted lion lizards to gain their rank with the elders. Now we hunt dragonlings in this cold with creatures driven mad by the Brood Mother's mists.” Ada rolled her eyes at the melodramatic voice. Slowly, she sucked in a cold breath then glanced up at the thick mist twisting through the gnarled, white branches of a lone standing marrowic tree. It was best not to talk while hunting dragonlings, but they had been walking for hours without a sign of their quarry.