The Lake of Souls by Darren Shan

alligator’s than a snake’s, long and flat, with two yellow eyes protruding from its crown, large nostrils, and a flexible lower jaw that looked like it could open wide to consume large animals. Its face was a dark purple color and its ears were surprisingly small, pointed and set close to its eyes. It had no teeth that I could see, but the gums of its jaws looked hard and sharp. It had a long, forked tongue that flicked lazily between its lips as it hung in the air and gazed upon us.
    The dragon observed us for a few more seconds, wings beating steadily, claws flexing, pupils opening and dilating. Then, tucking in its wings, it dived sharply, forelegs stretched, talons exposed, mouth closed — aiming for the raft!
    With startled yells, Harkat and I snapped to attention and threw ourselves flat. The dragon screamed by overhead. One of its claws connected with my left shoulder and sent me crashing into Harkat.
    As we pushed ourselves apart, I sat up, rubbing my bruised shoulder, and saw the dragon turn smoothly in the air, reverse and begin another dive. This time, instead of throwing himself onto the raft, Harkat grabbed his oar and thrust it up at the dragon, roaring a challenge at the monster. The dragon screeched angrily in reply — a high-pitched sound — and swerved away.
    “Get up!” Harkat yelled at me. As I struggled to my feet, he thrust my oar into my hands, got to his knees, and rowed desperately. “You keep it off … if you can,” he gasped. “I’ll try and get us … to shore. Our only hope is to … make land and hope we can … hide.”
    Holding the oar up was agony, but I ignored the pain in my shoulder and kept the piece of wood aloft, pointed at the dragon like a spear, silently willing Harkat to row even quicker. Above, the dragon circled, yellow eyes focused on the raft, occasionally screeching.
    “It’s assessing us,” I muttered.
    “What?” Harkat grunted.
    “It’s making a study. Noting our speed, analyzing our strengths, calculating our weaknesses.” I lowered my oar. “Stop rowing.”
    “Are you crazy?” Harkat shouted.
    “We’ll never make it,” I said calmly. “We’re too far out. We’d best save our strength for fighting.”
    “How the hell do you think … we’re going to fight a dragon?” Harkat snorted.
    “I don’t know,” I sighed. “But we can’t out-pace it, so we might as well be fresh when it attacks.”
    Harkat stopped rowing and stood beside me, staring at the dragon with his unblinking green eyes. “Maybe it won’t attack,” he said with hollow optimism.
    “It’s a predator,” I replied, “like the panther and alligators. It’s not a question of
if
it will attack, but
when.”
    Harkat looked from the dragon to the shore and licked his lips. “What if we swam? We wouldn’t be as visible … in the water. That might make it harder … for it to grab us.”
    “True,” I agreed, “but we wouldn’t be able to defend ourselves. We won’t jump unless we have to. In the meantime, let’s sharpen our oars.” Drawing one of my knives, I whittled away at the end of my oar. Harkat did the same with his. Within seconds of our setting to work on the oars, the dragon — perhaps sensing our intent — attacked, cutting short our preparations.
    My immediate instinct was to duck, but I stood firm beside Harkat and we both raised our oars defensively. The dragon didn’t pull out of its dive this time, but swooped even lower than before and barreled into us with its hard head and shoulders, wings tucked in tight. We jabbed at it with our oars, but they snapped off its hard scales without causing the slightest bit of damage.
    The dragon collided with the raft. The force of the blow sent us flying clear of the raft, deep under water. I came up gasping and thrashing wildly. Harkat was several yards adrift of me, also winded and bruised from the encounter. “Got to … make the … raft!” he shouted.
    “No use!” I cried, pointing at the wreckage of