XII
Fenroot hovered over his troops as they ascended an icy mountain. The cold wind blew snow across his eyes but he followed the troops as they marched up a snowy mountain path.
An entourage of Keepers and Crafters flew in V formation alongside him, with cold and sullen faces. Moss flew next him, shivering.
The damned dragon!
“If you can’t take the cold, you can always return home,” Fenroot said.
“And wait for the old dragon to rip me to shreds like he did my daughters?” Moss asked.
“Courage,” Fenroot growled. “It wouldn’t hurt you to show some once in a while.”
“Strength in numbers,” Moss said. “I want to sink my teeth in his throat as much as you do.”
“I’m sure.”
Fenroot flew ahead but Moss followed him. Everywhere he went the dragon hung around him like a parasite.
Moss techn
