tales. They claim that there is a beast in the Kingdom more fearsome than I.”
“Only one?” Kyleigh quipped, and she was rewarded with a snarl.
“There is none greater,” he growled, stopping his pace. He glared at her from under the lengths of his hair. “I make my home in the mountains when others would flee. I am the greatest beast in these lands … and I’ve traveled all this way to prove it.”
Quite suddenly, his clothes ripped apart and a blur of brown burst from the remains. She spun to the side and felt him whoosh past her, heard claws scrape against the stone floor — and when she turned, a full-grown mountain lion glared back at her.
He paced beside her, weighing her. Watching her. His powerful limbs curled beneath him, his tail flicked to the side. A purring growl came from deep within his throat. And then he lunged.
Kyleigh ducked under his grasping claws and rolled swiftly to the side, popping back onto her feet. The lion hit the front of the desk hard. He dug into its shining top to keep from flipping over. She grimaced as the wood screeched and splintered under his claws.
Crumfeld wouldn’t be pleased about that.
The lion could only slow his fall — he couldn’t stop it. His body fell behind the desk and for a moment, the room went eerily silent. But Kyleigh knew their game wasn’t finished just yet. She kept her hands loose and slid one foot behind her for balance. The muscles in her back bunched up at her shoulders. She held her breath, tensed and waiting.
When the lion burst from his cover in a blur of teeth and claws, she was ready for him.
Taking her second shape was like stepping through a door, or cracking a joint: it took less than half a moment. She felt herself slide into her dragon skin and grinned when she saw terror widen the lion’s eyes.
The scent of his fear filled her nostrils. Something like a hunger rumbled inside her lungs, and Kyleigh became too focused on her prey to remember not to cause a mess. She reared back; her horns scraped the top of the ceiling. Her wings unfurled as far as they could, crushing up against the shelves. A lounge chair sailed to the other end of the room as she snapped her tail about her.
The lion tried to change directions in mid-leap. His body twisted to the side and his limbs flailed madly in the open air. But try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself, and he wound up crashing into the unforgiving scales of Kyleigh’s stomach.
No sooner had he flopped to the ground than he tried to dash away, but she caught his tail in one of her massive foreclaws. Then she began dragging him towards her, slowly.
He hissed and slapped her arms with his claws. The blows he landed would’ve torn the hide off a full-grown deer, but Kyleigh hardly felt them. When the lion’s claws glanced harmlessly off her scales, he began to wriggle desperately. Kyleigh tightened her grip and brought him to her face, holding him up by his tail.
She’d never liked cats. They were arrogant, spiteful creatures who claimed loyalty to no one but themselves. Cats preferred to crouch in the brush instead of meeting their prey outright. They went after young things, sickly things, and they had no respect at all for territory.
This cat was no exception. When he realized that his claws were useless, he roared defiantly in her face. And Kyleigh couldn’t help it: she roared back.
He squirmed as her voice shook the room. The crystals of the chandelier tinkled as the deep tones made them quiver on their fastenings. She flung the lion away by his tail, and he struck the bookshelves hard. His body went limp as he fell behind the desk.
Kyleigh thought she’d accidentally killed him. And in her disappointment, she dropped back on all fours.
Her horns got caught up in the chandelier. Dust fell across her snout as it ripped from its fastenings, and she couldn’t save it: the great, golden decoration crashed to the ground. The crystals shattered and went flying in every
“Only one?” Kyleigh quipped, and she was rewarded with a snarl.
“There is none greater,” he growled, stopping his pace. He glared at her from under the lengths of his hair. “I make my home in the mountains when others would flee. I am the greatest beast in these lands … and I’ve traveled all this way to prove it.”
Quite suddenly, his clothes ripped apart and a blur of brown burst from the remains. She spun to the side and felt him whoosh past her, heard claws scrape against the stone floor — and when she turned, a full-grown mountain lion glared back at her.
He paced beside her, weighing her. Watching her. His powerful limbs curled beneath him, his tail flicked to the side. A purring growl came from deep within his throat. And then he lunged.
Kyleigh ducked under his grasping claws and rolled swiftly to the side, popping back onto her feet. The lion hit the front of the desk hard. He dug into its shining top to keep from flipping over. She grimaced as the wood screeched and splintered under his claws.
Crumfeld wouldn’t be pleased about that.
The lion could only slow his fall — he couldn’t stop it. His body fell behind the desk and for a moment, the room went eerily silent. But Kyleigh knew their game wasn’t finished just yet. She kept her hands loose and slid one foot behind her for balance. The muscles in her back bunched up at her shoulders. She held her breath, tensed and waiting.
When the lion burst from his cover in a blur of teeth and claws, she was ready for him.
Taking her second shape was like stepping through a door, or cracking a joint: it took less than half a moment. She felt herself slide into her dragon skin and grinned when she saw terror widen the lion’s eyes.
The scent of his fear filled her nostrils. Something like a hunger rumbled inside her lungs, and Kyleigh became too focused on her prey to remember not to cause a mess. She reared back; her horns scraped the top of the ceiling. Her wings unfurled as far as they could, crushing up against the shelves. A lounge chair sailed to the other end of the room as she snapped her tail about her.
The lion tried to change directions in mid-leap. His body twisted to the side and his limbs flailed madly in the open air. But try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself, and he wound up crashing into the unforgiving scales of Kyleigh’s stomach.
No sooner had he flopped to the ground than he tried to dash away, but she caught his tail in one of her massive foreclaws. Then she began dragging him towards her, slowly.
He hissed and slapped her arms with his claws. The blows he landed would’ve torn the hide off a full-grown deer, but Kyleigh hardly felt them. When the lion’s claws glanced harmlessly off her scales, he began to wriggle desperately. Kyleigh tightened her grip and brought him to her face, holding him up by his tail.
She’d never liked cats. They were arrogant, spiteful creatures who claimed loyalty to no one but themselves. Cats preferred to crouch in the brush instead of meeting their prey outright. They went after young things, sickly things, and they had no respect at all for territory.
This cat was no exception. When he realized that his claws were useless, he roared defiantly in her face. And Kyleigh couldn’t help it: she roared back.
He squirmed as her voice shook the room. The crystals of the chandelier tinkled as the deep tones made them quiver on their fastenings. She flung the lion away by his tail, and he struck the bookshelves hard. His body went limp as he fell behind the desk.
Kyleigh thought she’d accidentally killed him. And in her disappointment, she dropped back on all fours.
Her horns got caught up in the chandelier. Dust fell across her snout as it ripped from its fastenings, and she couldn’t save it: the great, golden decoration crashed to the ground. The crystals shattered and went flying in every
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