The Dragon Slayer's Queen
The trail through the Dragonspine was treacherous, filled with broken bones and black ice. With every fourth step, Zayla braced herself for seeing a corpse or a trap. Below their ledge, the river wept with cold, white spray, while the mountain’s shadow writhed, swallowing the sun long before nightfall. For a day and a half, they had been climbing, following Jenifer’s map, with hunger and doubt gnawing at everything that wasn’t muscle, scale, or raw, frantic will.