sharp cry.
No pity for her kindled in Manon. None at
all.
The ground neared, brutal and unyielding.
“You mad bitch, I said stop!”
Two hundred feet to the earth. Then a
hundred. Manon couldn’t get down a breath.
Fifty feet.
And as the ground seemed to rise to meet
them, Manon heard Petrah’s only words to
Iskra like they had been carried on the wind.
“For Keelie.”
Petrah’s wyvern flung out its wings,
banking sharper than any wyvern Manon had
ever witnessed. Rising up, wing tip grazing
the icy ground before it shot back into the
skies.
Leaving Iskra and her bull to splatter on
the earth.
The boom rumbled past Manon, thundering
lily
(lily)
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