Literature
The Poorest Thief
Whiteout stared at the collapsed side of Agate Mountain. The early dawn was streaking bands of orange and red across the rubble. “This wound is fresh, not dried yet,” she said analytically. The other NightWing dragon kept looking around them, biting his lower lip. “Uhm, Dear?” He said. “Perhaps we should come back another time?” She smiled. Oh, Thoughtful. So amusingly nervous. “Don’t vibrate so much. Be still, for no one will see us here for a week.” He adjusted his glasses and swallowed. “If I heard that from anyone but you, I would be in the air right now. Are you sure we’re in the right place?” “Clearsight closed her old life here. There is a banked coal beneath these rocks.” “Darkstalker’s here?” His voice spiked in pitch, like a startled child. “My brother severed his grave from him. His skin is akin to the world’s crust.” “So he’s actually immortal and invincible? I heard the rumors, but I didn’t take them
