Blindsided by the dragons, Anne had been rooted in spot. She had read about them before, these fire breathing lizards and had wondered, very briefly as a child, about whether or not she would have lived to see any. They were long thought extinct, and if there were that many crawling and soring through the skies, how on earth she had managed to not see one until now. Anne had chalked the rumours down to the paranoia of elders and adventurers alike, who often told large tales in an attempt to chase others away from their undiscovered treasures.
And just like that, Anne was dragged into the yawning mouth of a cave by something- not something. She would know the smell of that rot anywhere and more often than not, it came with danger. With a yelp, she cowered from the flames that blustered past them, and the breton had narrowly missed losing her hair, eyebrows and life to it. It did not take long for the dragon in question to lose its interest, to which Anne turned her own towards her saviour. Her eyes glows like lanterns in the pitch blackness, and she fought off the urge to scramble away from her.
It was hard going, but she managed it. "I thought people were joking about the dragons," she said, breathlessly. Her tongue felt heavy and stupid in her mouth, as though she were only just learning how to speak all over again. "I've nothing to give you as thanks, but if we are headed in the same direction, I'd be inclined to offer you a mead in the nearest tavern."
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