burning cities and napalm skies; anyone

[Starlin]

STARLIN grit and grace. His subjects hold him in high regard – too high, it seems. Perhaps they feel it inappropriate to mention to the dragon king, but Starlin has no such qualms. He is not the Dragon King to her after all, he is simply a very sad looking stallion. Once, she had found a body washed up on the beach of Nerine. Starlin had told no one about it, but she had visited it for weeks, memorizing the shape of the bones as they emerged from the rotting flesh. She knows where they are connected, where they are weak. The knowledge has never come in handy (but how vital it will become when she begins to fight!), but she does eye the protruding bones of the scaled stallion’s hip with open curiosity. He is scaled like Guardian Lior and Prince Castile. He invites her to warmth, and she is too cold to be cautious. In better conditions she would hesitate to trust a stranger, especially a stranger in a strange kingdom. But she only nods, and gives him a teeth-chattering: “Y-y-yes please. I’d like t-t-to be warmer,” that is punctuated with shivers.