The shapes came out of the stormclouds in a loose formation, banking left before splitting apart as they selected targets in the airspace below.
Fortunately, they were not dragons.
The wings were narrow and elongated, crested at the top, rigid membrane stretched between long finger bones. Their beaks were long and toothed. Their necks were too short, their bodies too compact, and the screech they made as they dove was high and piercing in the way of something that reaches your sinuses before your ears have finished filing the report.
"They're pterodactyls," Nyx said.
"Pterosaurs," Proxy said. "One is a genus. The other is an order."
"Ughhh," she said, and watched one drop onto the truck directly ahead of her.
The talons hit the truck's roof at full dive speed. Three claws, each the width of a fist, punched through the sheet metal with a sound like a can opener dragged across tin, only worse because it did not end. The roof caved inward along three ways.
