At the dragon's sudden movement, Kael froze. His body stiffened like every muscle had locked at once, caught between fear and helplessness. He had no idea how to react, no idea what to do. So he did nothing. Instead, he stood rooted to the spot, eyes locked on the towering figure before him.
A dozen emotions warred across Kael's face—embarrassment, anger, humiliation, shame—but his limbs refused to obey.
To anyone watching, the scene was almost pitiful. Kael looked like a tiny cat, cornered by its master, bullied and helpless, unable to fight back or even hiss in defense.
And really—what hope did he have? How could a clawless, defenseless cat like Kael ever stand against a dragon like Valkar? A dragon whose single talon was as long as several men standing one atop another?
Yes, perhaps the comparison sounded absurd.
