Here she looms o’er naught
Her shadow paints in darkness
Olympus Mons stands
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Dawson Andrew
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Ash and Wind
Farin’s wings beat down, spreading ash in every direction. It swirled around the ruined walls of the keep and faded into the smokey air. The bleeding horizon went out of view as she landed on the broken ground in front of the boy. He didn’t look up, didn’t flinch as the ground trembled under the weight of a fully grown dragon. He just sat there, leaning against the ruined wall, ash slowly building up on his shoulders as he silently cried. His voice was already ruined from wailing for a guardian that would never return.
By Dawson Andrew3 years ago in Fiction
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