Dragon: Pieces

Amalia had to admire the sheer stubbornness of the people climbing out of the valley below. They had just been paid a nasty visit by a many-faced shadow creature, yet they still continued on towards the dragon’s mountain. Idiots. She figured that they must be some sort of nutty people to come this far in the first place, but continuing on after losing about a third of your army took a special kind of nutty. She watched the bedraggled remains make their slow way up the mountain towards the dragon’s lair, hidden in the clouds. If they had fled, then they probably would've lived. But now… they were past the point of no return. They had chosen to go on.  

Next to her, Jaimil snorted as he watched the people, reduced to the size of ants from this distance, make the trek out of the valley and begin to crawl up the side of the dragon’s home. 

“Those idiots have no idea what they’re getting into.” 

Amalia shrugged. “It was their choice. Who are we to decide what they do?”

“Even if we know the outcome when they don’t?” 

Amalia grunted and shrugged. “Don’t ask me.” Philosophical questions were not her forte. She turned to look out over the harsh environment spread before her feet. 

Sharp peaks faded into the pale blue of the morning sky, and the low sun cast stark shadows onto the snow capped spears or stone. The shadows cast were not the deep black of obsidian, but the deep blue of the night sky. Animals and humans alike looked more like ants than themselves, small and insignificant on the vast spikes of earth that had existed for millenia. She glanced toward the flatlands, where the mountains blended into the earth to become hills, and absently traced the army’s trail with her eyes. There were a few specks moving on the mountainside--the smart people and animals who had fled and would survive the coming storm.