The forest path grew quieter as the patrol moved deeper into elven territory.
The chaos of battle felt strangely distant now.
Only a faint smell of crushed bark and dried blood lingered behind them, slowly fading as the forest reclaimed the space.
John walked at the center of the group.
His massive body moved surprisingly smoothly between the towering trees. Every step of the black dragon was slow and controlled, careful not to crush the delicate moss and roots beneath him.
Even so, the sound of his claws pressing into the soil carried through the quiet woods.
*Crunch.*
*Crunch.*
The younger elves walking nearby continued glancing at him.
Then glancing again.
Then whispering.
They were trying very hard to look subtle.
They were failing miserably.
John flicked one golden eye toward them.
"You know," he rumbled casually, "if you stare any harder you might burn a hole through my scales."
The group immediately froze.
One of them coughed awkwardly.
