Clove was scared shitless. He was supposed to be the calm and composed one, to guide his peers in an emergency like this, but–
Fuck that shit!
How was he supposed to protect his peers when he couldn't even protect himself? Against a dragon, no less. Maybe he could stall a Juvenile for a few seconds, pushing it back long enough for his peers to reach safety. He'd probably suffer severe injuries, but the Elders would be there to help him and to force the young dragon into retreat.
Killing a young dragon would be stupid considering how wrathful Mother Dragons were, but that was none of Clove's concerns. Flames consumed the Eserian Grove, and it wasn't long before several emergency paths collapsed.
