The Whirlock ascended below the rocky path where Isadora stood. Smoke was coming from its nostrils after setting the wall ablaze. She stretched her hand to touch his muzzle, and contrary to other beasts, his was freaking hot she had to withdraw.
"You've grown," she whispered and the dragon quivered as if acknowledging her compliment. His scales had grown sharper and his eyes dangerously red. She was not here to admire him but rescue her husband. With two swift steps, she boarded the Whirlock and urged it up.
The dragon let out a cry and flapped its enormous wings leaving a cloud of dust where it had landed. Even the waters marvelled at its presence as the boat Isadora had pushed into the river flipped over. Three flaps of Whirlock and Isadora was high in the sky. She could have a bird's eye view of the Arcadian city, the commotion as Arcadian knights lined themselves to rain arrows on her dragon. But these were not her concern.
