The Assassin
We stay outside by the campfire, until the fire begins to burn out.
“I’m glad you’re staying, mom,” Ancalagon says to me.
I look up and see his emerald-green eye, a gold color with the reflection of the fire, looking at me.
“Are you going to say that if I become a teacher here and you have to take my class?” I ask him.
He snorts, smoke coming out of his nose. “That depends, what class will you be teaching?”
“Air,” Kaylani says, watching us. “She’s the last air dragon and the only one of us whose DNA isn’t with the scientists.”
Bab Populer