"Where is Azriel?" Zavian asked, scanning the standing people, then the bodies pillaged on the ground. "Azriel!" He called, and no one responded.
"I saw him, fighting, just before...," Freya trailed off. "Zavian, you are hurt."
"It doesn't matter, it isn't bad."
"If it isn't, I really hope that blood is of the enemy's."
"Enough. Where is Azriel?"
Freya pointed behind Zavian. When he turned to look, under a body of the large creature, Azriel rolled it over and rose to his feet, his hand holding the side of his flank, his hair and face thick with blood and soot.
"Damn it, Zavian, I could hear you from down there," he said as he limped over to their side. He surveyed the dome, and the bright eyed witch. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it shut, then said, "Thank you."
"Are you okay?" Freya asked.
