Kingdom of Ash

A shift, muscles and bones burning, and the
world had become smaller, infinitely deadlier.
And infinitely less aware of his presence.
Dorian’s whiskers twitched, his oversized
ears cocking. The roar of the wyverns rocked
through his small, furred body, and he gritted
his teeth—large, almost too big for his little
mouth. The reek grew near-nauseating.
He could smell ... everything. The
lingering freshness of the laundry that had
passed by. The gamey musk of some sort of
broth clinging to the laundresses after their
lunch. He’d never thought mice to be
extraordinary, yet even soaring as a hawk, he
had not felt this alertness, this level of being
awake.
In a world designed to kill them, he
supposed mice needed such sharpness to
survive.
Dorian allowed himself one long breath