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Red and Yirho were born and bred to stark stone ridges and treacherous mountaintops, so they navigated the blasted and obsidian-strewn slope with comparative ease – not that it was easy going for them, but that it was easier for the two small bipeds than for the large quadruped that attempted to stumble along behind them. Volcanic glass slashed at their hands and feet, and even Red and Yirho bled by the time they found a stone to shield them from the dragon's vengeful flames.

Naita felt like a dish of raw fish, sliced to bits and served up to the dragon. “Oh, jest kill me already...” she snarled, bleeding, as she turned to the soaring dragon. Her tail lashed. Hiding had been a good idea, but it was clear that wasn't a thing that was going to happen. And, if she couldn't hide, no one could. They would all fight this dragon and live. Or, least, she would live.

She sent a fireball at the dovaa and the darv's hiding place. “Up an' at 'em, mateys!” she called, beating her aching wings and sending herself into the sky, “Hiding won't do no good, we've got t' take it down!”

Yirho shrieked a series of Darv curses at her and scrambled out from behind the rock as the dragon sent it's own gout of searing flame into it. Red clambered to a higher perch, summoning icicle spears to her hands. “That was a dirty trick!” she shouted at Naita, “Really bad! I'll skewer you for this!” Yirho called to her plaintively, “After I get the dragon!” she amended. Her priorities were completely correct.

“That's th' spirit!” Naita howled, spitting a fireball at the dragon. It didn't do much besides piss it off, but Naita was aiming to do that. Plus, fireballs were fun. She spewed fireball after fireball, each one making it hard for the dragon to see her approaching.

Suddenly, she was on it's face, clawing viciously at it. It screeched and clawed at her, throughly distracted now.

An ice spear buried itself in it's back, just behind it's wing, cutting through flesh and tendon before melting away. The dragon swerved, struggling to stay airborne even as it ripped the khehora from it's face and tossed them aside. Another icicle speared it's side, followed by another and another, until it was – for a brief moment before the icicles faded away into vapor – much like a butterflied spit roast. The illusion faded away with the icicles, leaving gaping holes in it's side that dripped sizzling blood onto the stones below. It collapsed and died, choking, unable to muster the breath for a final howl. Soon, it was dust, flying away in the ashen wind.

Red peered over the sharp cliffs for the khehora, not seeing the beast anywhere. They were probably dead – and so much the better. Red, for once, did not feel up for another fight just then. “Whew, Yirho...” she said, handing him his share of the dragon souls, “That was some fight. Hows about we...” she caught her breath, “Hows about we find a place to roost for the night, eh?” She needed to patch herself up and eat and all those vital important things that came with living a wild life. Yirho nodded.

“Campah.” he said in agreement, summoning a flame to his hand. Tired and torn and guided by the summoned light, the two set out to find a cave to rest in as the darkness of night settled around them.

Naita, however, was not dead. She was bruised, battered, burnt and a little broken, but she was alive. She lay where she fell, catching her breath, moving only to bring the fallen dragon orb closer to her person. There, that was a victory, wasn't it...? She grinned and closed her eyes, falling into the healing oblivion of sleep...