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Tanarah squinted. Climbing halfway appealed to her better, but the more she thought on it, the less any compromise seemed wise. Surely, though, there had to be some way to get to a nest of green lizard beasts without completely ruining themselves for any escape route unless they defeated all of the beasts. After a pause dedicated to thought, she stooped, scouring the ground for a moment and then hefting a pebble about half the size of her palm.

“Maybe we could…just make a lot of noise from here,” Tanarah suggested. “I know they were near, last time…and dragons get cross real easy ‘n stuff. So if we threw stuff at their nest…and bothered ‘em enough, then maybe they’d quit hiding and come out to fight proper like?” Without waiting for a definitive answer on that front, Tana dropped her head back, and hollered, “OI, YOU STINKIN’ LIZARD BEASTS, I bet you wouldn’t even make pretty amor if someone could skin you! Your poison’s prolly ‘bout as dangerous as my grandmum’s flowerbed!”

Which, to be fair, wasn’t precisely an insult, since Tanarah was fairly certain that grandmama Vallarah’s garden had at least as much potential for poisonous bite to it as any other dedicated ysali. But the dragons didn’t need to know that.

Instead, she accompanied the accusations with a stone throw, lodging her projectile as high as she could get it towards where she guessed the nook was.

Tanarah was not sure how long they spent yelling whatever came to mind that sounded insulting and throwing stones up a cliffside, but since it was her honor on the line that really, there were dragons here, she’d swear to it, it began to concern her after a certain period that none showed any signs of emerging. Then, something scuffled, and an electric green snout peered out over the lip of a crevice — not quite as far up as she remembered, but high enough — its head tilting and scales glinting in the afternoon sunlight.

Tanarah, after having paused mid-throw at the first sign of movement, grinned with all the devilishness a child could manage, and finished her toss. The stone, unfortunately, did not hit its target — though she liked to imagine it came fairly close — but it did strike near enough, at least, that the beast twitched its head, narrowing luminous eyes on her, flicking out a long tongue, and then hissing with an irate stretch of its wings.

Moments later, it alighted, taking off into the and sweeping around towards them, followed shortly after by two others which chattered irritably as they went. This was, Tanarah decided as she drew her blades, certainly far preferable to last time—even if the slippery rock underfoot and limited run space was still less than perfectly optimal. It would have to do. Her pulse sped with anticipation, and her tongue whetted her lower lip.

Surely, after all, battle was meant to be exciting, wasn’t it?

Tanarah blinked, and then bristled, a hot, defensive flush of anger sweeping up into her cheeks as she did. It was one thing to catch her off guard, and make a mess of her on her own under entirely different circumstances. But her sister was another story altogether. Not daring, immediately, to swing at the vines at Talanah’s feet for fear of cutting her in the process, Tana darted in physically instead, moving over her, bracing her boots on either side of the rock at her sides and snarling.

She was not sure exactly what she screamed at the creature to express her upset and challenge, and didn’t particularly care in that moment if it was intelligible. The fact that it got the beast’s attention was enough. In its next diving pass, she gouged, driving her blade out toward it. The tip scraped scales, earning a screech and a roar; it tackled her, driving her back to the cliff face. After several moments of chaos, her pulse feeling as though it were spearing its way up through her throat in some messy combination of anger and exhilaration, boots scrabbling at the earth as she struggled to get her sword into a usable position—

—her blade found purchase. Shrieking in victory, Tana jerked to drive the steel deeper, a lopsided grin pulling back at the corners of her lips as the beast twitched. Then, she dragged herself—and her blade—out from under it, and hacked down again as it gave its last, dying scrapes at the earth. Panting to regain her breath, she reached up with the back of her wrist and swept away at the blood coming down from her forehead and threatening to drip towards her eye. About there, her attention caught back on her sister—and the rest of the dragons.

A grunt of a yelp took the place of might otherwise have been a curse word, and Tanarah immediately scrambled forward, snatching up the blade Tala had lost grip of and holding it out to her that she might free herself of the deceased ysali’s magic, while Tanarah meanwhile dealt with—

She squinted, trying to count.

Well, however many were left. Hopefully with aid, soon. The dragons needed no extra taunting to dive for her, but at least this time, Tana had the satisfaction of one victory under her belt. Surely a few more wouldn’t be impossible.

Tanarah shot her sister a squint. Run or fight? Was that even a question? But then, the ysalis were on them, swarming down for the strike, and Tana let her actions speak for her, whooping and driving in.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, even with a partner in crime, a full pack of dragons — including small ones — proved to be a difficult obstacle to overcome for a pair of nine-year-olds, and though it was not quite so close of a cut as last time, the answer to the ‘fight or flight’ question did eventually become the one far less favorable to Tana. At the tail end of their encounter, they found themselves driven back, snatching up what orbs they could manage before darting back over the rocks. Luckily enough, they did not have to make it far before the dragons receded, giving up on likely more bothersome ‘prey’ than they were prepared to handle.

Or, Tanarah reasoned, perhaps the dragons were afraid. Hah. Yes, that made sense.

From their newly-arrived-at position on the beach, she glanced back, eyeing the dragons’ retreat before snorting, and then tossing her a sister a grin as she hefted one of the orbs. For a girl sore all over, breathless, and bleeding from several gashes — one, in particular, that insisted on trying to drip into her eye — she felt fairly satisfied with herself.

“There, see?” she said, sweeping away the red from her forehead and brow before it got in the way. “That was fun, right?”