The Dragon's Silent Shadow
SleepyAshblack dragon silhouetteblood of the dragonthe eyes of the dragon princesssilent shadows
It grew heavier, wet and earthy, carrying the scent of pine needles and decaying leaves.
Tristan sat on the roof of the tender car, his legs dangling over the side. The wind whipped his dark hair across his face, but he didn't bother to brush it away. He was too busy staring at the apple in his hand.
It was a small, bruised thing, scavenged from the bottom of a crate in the galley.
He took a bite.
Crunch.
He closed his eyes, focusing intently. The texture was there—crisp skin, mealy flesh. The temperature was cool. But the taste?