Being in the Skywing army had its perks. The best weapons, good food, your family clan safe from the war sweeping Pyrrhia.

This was not a day that you were enjoying those perks. You were currently perched in a drafty, cold cave in the disputed Icewing territories, gripping a knife, waiting for the Icewing officials you were sent to take out to show their spiky heads. You were stationed with Ghost-a curt, closed off Sandwing soldier(at least you assumed he was a Sandwing. Hard to tell past that creepy dragon skull he wore seemingly all day.) He had flown off into the pine forest that your cave overlooked a few minutes ago with a curt ‘stay here’. Your stomach rumbled, your claws scraping irritably on the cave floor. The sound of wingbeats caught your ear, and your claws tightened around your daggers-before the familiar dull tan wings caught your eye. Ghost’s wings were torn and pocked with so many holes, you sometimes wondered how he managed to fly, let alone faster than the average Skywing.

Ghost landed quietly in the cave, weirdly smooth for a dragon that looked like a solid lump of muscle and sharp objects. Something skidded in front of your claws as Ghost passed you-a slightly charred but still fresh goat. Ghost sat down next to you, his tail curled around his claws, keeping the venomous barb safely curled away from you. “you haven’t eaten.” Ghost commented blandly. “i’ll take watch.”