Page 24 of The Last Dragon (The Great Burn Chronicles #1)

I brief the two lieutenants on the plan, and they immediately call for several units to move toward the first barricade marker. The others sprint back to the Stronghold in search of laced bolts and I hope they’ll return in time—before we suffer more losses. Or become losses themselves.

And then we run to the first barricade and scream and yell and throw rocks and fire bolts, hoping to catch the dragon’s attention. Nida grips water bombs in her hand, ready for whatever the beast might do. Eventually, the beast turns toward us, heading our way. At least for the moment.

I place a bolt into the crossbow’s jack. How long were the bolts not laced? Why has nobody noticed it? Or did somebody notice but didn’t say a word? Is this the reason the dragon has survived for so long?

Everyone scatters a few meters apart, forming a semi-stationary line—Nida by my side.

If anything happens, the barricade just a few paces behind us will give us cover if it breathes fire.

Normally, we’d be a full unit, but half of them are nowhere to be found, and I don’t have time to search.

I have to move fast. We have to move fast. We need to kill this beast before it kills us.

The Redsnout flaps its heavy wings toward us, rapidly descending and landing some distance away, the ground trembling under its massive weight.

Its snarl reverberates through the air. Scales the color of dried blood shimmer in the firelight, jagged at the edges like shattered glass—but not as sharp as its twin horns curling upwards.

Its deep crimson snout flares with each breath as it scans us, considering who to torch first. Steam swirls out of its black tipped nostrils.

I aim toward the red amber eyes, following the movement of its long, serpentine neck, avoiding arrows with ease.

It roars, digging its long black and hooked claws deeper into the scorched soil.

Amber seeps from the cracked ground like blood from an open wound.

This rage doesn’t seem like it’s for the sake of destruction.

This feels like vengeance.

Nida gestures for me to back away, signaling that we’re too close to the dragon’s fire range.

I take a few quick steps back and she follows, keeping my bolt trained on the beast. Damn it.

The dragon landed too far—too far for the ballistas to reach from here.

I flick my gaze back to the towers behind us—the Defenders eagerly waving their hands for us to bring the dragon closer. But this thing isn’t moving.

Turning my gaze back to the beast, I notice two dark figures catching the light to the left of its wing.

Eryca and Ilian. They must have seen me when I entered the field and followed.

Eryca whistles, catching Nida’s eyes. Nida quickly aims her thumb at her chest, signaling that she’s the one attempting to distract, and Eryca backs away behind Ilian in case they need to switch.

Another pair of two hunters and trackers sneak up behind the dragon on each side.

We got it cornered. The beast is on high alert, but we can’t shoot without irritating it.

If one of us misses, there’s a chance it’s going to attack and kill half of the squad.

I can’t have that. Think Zel, think . No, that’s not my role.

I have to trust Nida. I swallow hard, keeping my breath steady.

Her fist is down, slightly extended to the side, mirroring its threatening stance.

The dragon watches. Any movement can agitate it.

She drags her feet across the dirt sliding toward the dragon’s right side.

Its massive head follows her, tracking her every step, while the rest of us fade into its peripheral blur.

From its perspective, we are near invisible.

We have to stay still. We have to keep it grounded.

Nida glances at the tail. I flick my eyes to Eryca who is doing the same. We’re in harmony. In control.

Nida extends her fingers to signal the beast is calming down as it closes in, curious on what’s in front of it.

Good. That’s what we want. The calmer the beast, the faster we can kill it.

Without laced bolts, the only thing we have is our daggers.

And the best place to aim a dagger is under its wing.

Or the throat. But one of us needs to get there.

It has to be me. My hand strays to my hip—curling my fingers over a dagger’s hilt as I watch the beast come closer and closer to Nida.

In seconds, the dragon’s snout is only a reach from her.

She’s steady. Silent. Not meeting the beast’s gaze—making herself as least threatening as possible.

I lock eyes with Nida. She knows what I want to do.

Damn it, Nida, scare it. Make it flutter its wings.

But there’s nothing.

Instead, she remains still. Frozen. Her eyes on the dragon. Her right leg digging into the dirt.

As if she’s backing away. Scared.

A soft curl falls, framing her face, swinging back and forth with every breath. A quick flutter stirs in my chest, and before I can finish my breath, the dragon slowly arches its neck and a faint click—like flint striking steel—snaps through the air. The dragon’s eyes lock onto Nida.

Three heartbeats. Three seconds.

That’s all I have.

I drop the bow and sprint toward her, relying on nothing but my legs and the adrenaline surging through me.

I grab her arm as she freezes, pulling her close just in time.

I hit the ground, twisting, pressing her body against mine—right under the dragon’s jaw.

Its scorching breath washes over us, her face dangerously close to mine.

If I burn, then I burn. The heat sears, but I hold her tight, praying it doesn’t notice us.

Eryca and the other two Trackers throw a few water bombs at it to extinguish the fire. She throws another water bomb at me. The splash cools my heated leathers, soaking my back.

The dragon roars in anger, small drops of water clinging to its snout.

I grip my dagger, aiming for the soft spot under its jaw.

But just as I lift it, the dragon beats its wings and shoots up into the air, zigzagging to avoid the bolts, my strike frozen midair.

The roar fades into the distance as it heads north away from the Stronghold. I yell out in anger.

Failure .

My chest feels like it’s going to explode.

Blood rushes through my head. All I hear is my raging heartbeat.

Pain circulates over my body from the heat of the fire.

Some fire sparks have burned right through my leather jacket.

I take a deep breath and get myself on my feet.

Moments later, Nida jumps to her feet beside me.

The pain fades and turns into pure, vicious anger.

All I can think about is how much I despise having her near.

“What was that?!” I grunt, taking off my mask. She stammers, but I don’t let her speak. “You could’ve gotten us killed!” I step closer to her, my pulse elevating. “Didn’t you know what you needed to do?”

“I did, it was just that—” she stutters her words, stumbling as she backs away from me.

“Why did you freeze?” I grit my teeth at her.

“Calm down,” she says quietly, raising her hands.

“So are you going to tell me why you froze?” I ask. But she remains silent. “You can’t, can you?” Her mouth remains shut, and I let out a scoff. “My Tracker shouldn’t freeze ,” I hiss, turning on my heel. I have to get out of here.

“Hey,” she yells. “You can’t just expect me to read your mind when you’re barely letting me in!”

I want to step away even further, but those words draw me close. “You want to say that again?” I say, my voice low. Now I’m really pissed.

“Yes,” she says. “You think nobody is worth anything unless they match your stubbornness in battle.”

A grunt escapes me as my jaw locks, bones grinding against each other, echoing in my skull like the sound of fury I can barely contain. I take another step closer.

“You’re so... insufferable ,” I manage. Heat crawls up my spine, and it’s not from dragonfire. I flex my fingers, curling them in to try to contain the anger.

“Me?” she snaps. “I’m the insufferable one?”

“Yes, you.” I don’t hesitate. “You think you can just waltz into the Corps like it’s a fucking game?”

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “ You’re the one who’s impossible to work with.”

“Really? Me?” I scoff, a laugh bubbling in my throat. This is just fucking absurd.

“Yes, you ,” she mocks. “If you weren’t so broody and stubborn all the time, then maybe, just maybe , I’d have a chance to properly communicate with you.” She clicks her tongue. “Can’t even be three feet near you.”

“Alright. Alright .” My lips press together, trying to hold back words before I say them. That just amplifies the heat inside of me. “If I’m that terrible to work with, maybe you should find someone else to be your Hunter.”

“Maybe I will,” she snaps back, eyes blazing.

“Fantastic.”

“Wonderful!” she grunts, throwing her arms wide. “Maybe, I’ll find a Hunter who actually knows how to deal with a Redsnout and maybe even recognizes their gender.”

I pause.

“What did you say?” The words slip out of me calmly, my burning rage extinguished like a match in the rain.

“Did the Redsnout scorch your ears? Male dragons cock their heads before ignition. This one didn’t. It’s female .”

Her words hit harder than a hammer to the chest.

I scan the battlefield, heart pounding, but everyone’s too wrapped up in the aftermath of the fight to notice us. Good. Without thinking, I grab her arm and stride toward the shelter of a collapsed brick tower.

“Hey!” she protests, voice low, wriggling half-heartedly against my grip. She could pull away if she really wanted to—she doesn’t.

Behind the ruined wall, I stop. A few broken stones give us cover. It’ll do.

“What are you saying?” I ask, keeping my voice steady, though every word tastes like heat. A part of me wants to laugh it off—a female Redsnout? That’s impossible. Yet her words plant a seed of doubt I can’t shake.

For a moment, fire flashes in her eyes, like she’s ready to bite. But she hesitates as she studies my face, and the fire fades.

She sighs. “The Redsnout is female. Not male, like the general claims.”

My stomach knots. “How do you know that?”

“My book,” she says simply.

I raise an eyebrow. “Not my book.”

She rolls her eyes. “My brother’s. I’ve read these things cover to cover. I know dragon behavior like the back of my hand.”

I stare at her, letting the silence stretch. “The last female Redsnout was slain ten years ago,” I say carefully, trying to hold onto what I know. How can she know this, but not me? I’ve been here longer. I’ve studied longer.

Her mouth presses into a thin line. “Apparently not.”

The familiar certainty in her voice stirs a flicker of fear. It bothers me. Not her claims, but what those claims stir in me. What if she’s right?

But one instant isn’t proof enough. This can rile people up, spiral them out of control. Fear will take over. If she’s right, that is. If she’s not—unnecessary, false information spreading can get her killed. Clipped .

Nobody can know.

I stare at her for a moment. She raises a brow, analyzing my face, waiting for me to say something. My throat tightens.

“This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” I say, lips tightening.

“Wha—hey!” she gasps. “We were all told it was male. I based every move on that assumption! Patterns, aggression— everything !”

“Their temperament is the same,” I say bluntly.

“Not really.” She scoffs. “There’s a minor difference in—”

“Temperament or not,” I interrupt. “Female or male. You froze . I won’t let my Tracker do that.”

“Oh great,” she drawls. “Now I’m your Tracker again, huh?”

“Not yet, you’re not,” I snap back, the fire igniting again. But I calm myself down just as quickly. “Not a proper one at least.”

“Fine,” she mutters. “Maybe Wain should just train me more—”

“No.” I step closer. “What you need is to reach my level. My standards. My way of fighting.” My voice drops, steady, certain. “And I’m the only one who can get you there. ” She takes a step back.

I lean in until our eyes are level. “You’ll be training under me.”