The forest from the interior looked just as dark and dismal as it did from the outside. 

The trees were taller than the likes of which he'd never seen before and the leaves overhead seemed to interlock, letting in barely any sunlight. The little amount of light that did go through the thick canopy shone through the leaves, coating everything in a twilight haze. 

As Fennyr walked, he would see things out of the corner of his eyes, shadows that moved and darkness that crawled, but then he would turn his head and stare and there would be nothing. He wondered if it was actually as dark as he saw it to be, or if his own imagination was making the woods gloomier than it really was. 

Based on his knowledge and the gory stories the adults had told him about this forest, Fennyr half expected ghostly spirits from years past to rain down from the heavens and exact vengeance on the travelers. 

They walked for an hour or so. After a while, Fennyr started to hear pants and moans of exhaustion from his group. Sometimes, he even heard them emitting from his own mouth.

Suddenly, he heard a sharp cry and a dull thud from behind him. He turned and snarled, ready to protect his friends no matter the cost. But instead of seeing Lur'drake falling from the sky and attacking his group, he saw Grali spread-eagle on the ground moaning and Pyria helping her up. She had tripped on a tree-root and had fallen sprawling on the leaf-covered ground. 

"Fennyr," Sulak peered nervously at Fennyr with his black-brown eyes. Even the bulky adolescent was getting short of breath. "Perhaps we should take a quick break." He seemed to be choosing his words carefully as if afraid to anger Fennyr. 

Fennyr was about to object when his reason stopped him. They still had a long way to go and although the light hadn't changed nor faded it felt like it was about sun-high, about the time that the tribe of Renzr usually ate.  

"All right." The group exhaled, relieved to finally have a rest. "Just for a little while." 

Otner immediately knelt to the ground and began gathering leaves into a large pile to create a place to sit. Sulak leaned against a thick tree and took a piece of bread from the satchel around his waist. Azul and Pyria knelt down in the leaves and extracted their food from their own bags. Grali didn't even get up from her position on the ground, but simply turned over, took a piece of meat from her satchel, and gnawed at it ravenously.    

Fennyr's stomach was growling like a cornered wolf. He hadn't eaten anything since before the arena. But despite his body's protests, he had no appetite. The seriousness of the situation and the memory of the terrifying scream from the night before drained his hunger. 

So, instead he stood and surveyed the area, every sense alert for danger. The rest ate in silence. The only sounds were crunches and an occasional moan of pleasure. Otner let out a satisfied burp which, as dragons burps often do, promptly lit his leaf stool aflame.

"Oops." Otner apologized with a toothy grin. Azul and Pyria helped him stomp out the blaze with their fire-proof talons, laughing while they did. Even Sulak had a smirk on his snout at Otner's folly. But then, a confused expression replaced the small grin. The confusion slowly morphed into concern. 

"Do you guys smell that?" His voice was soft and quiet, filled with dread. Snouts lifted towards the now-smoky air, sniffing. 

Under the burning stench of the still-smoldering leaves, Fennyr detected typical forest smells, wet leaves, rotting wood, and animal droppings. But under all that, there was something else, a dark undertone scent that he was not unfamiliar with but still made him sick to his stomach. A sickly sweet smell, a odor that he remembered from the arena. 

"Blood." he growled. Everyone tensed at the word. Fennyr's scales quivered along his spine. The stench was coming from his left, about ten dragon-lengths away. 

"Wait here." He murmured to the group in the same low voice that Sulak had used. The group obeyed him with wide eyes. 

Fennyr slowly followed the smell, ready for combat. A raven cawed, a high, shrill, sound and Fennyr jumped, so startled was he. He prayed to Allah that his friends didn't see him flinch.

 The stench was getting stronger. He looked down at his talons. The leaves that he was walking on where spattered with the life-giving liquid. Then, Fennyr saw, not two paces away, a lifeless body, dying the leaves bright crimson. Curiosity overcame his revulsion and he took a step closer. 

It wasn't a dragon, as Fennyr observed, but an animal about half the size of Azul. It had no scales nor fur but had light brown skin. Fennyr vaguely wondered what its head looked like, for it had none. It's head must have been brutally torn off by whatever killed it. It had no weapons or any natural defenses as Fennyr could see and no clothing except a leather cloth around its waist. Blood was steadily streaming from its neck and from various cut and wounds around its body. 

Fennyr let his eyes trail over the body once more. He turned to walk away but then saw something that froze him to his marrow. 

On the creature's shoulder, barely showing through all of the blood, were two puncture marks, about a knuckle-length in diameter. The skin around the marks was a palled gray and the veins were coursing with black venom. 

Fennyr had seen those marks before. They were described by the adults of Renzr in hushed, terrified, tones. They were on the corpses that were brought back from the forest. They were the marks that have been terrorizing the tribe for almost a decade. 

They were the marks of a Lur'drake. 

Fennyr's heart was racing. A Lur'drake had been in this area. He wondered briefly if this creature had been the source of the scream from the night before. I can't show this to the others. Fennyr thought. They're as terrified as it is. To see the handiwork of the monster that has killed so many dragons could send them into a full-blown panic. 

"Fennyr." Pyria's voice came through the heavily dense trees. "What did you find?" 

Fennyr took a deep breath before answering. "Nothing. Just...some prey was killed by a bear or something."

"Prey?" called Otner. "Can we eat it?" 

   "No!" Fennyr shouted a little too loudly. "It's a couple days old." That part's not technically lying. He assured himself. "There's maggots and worms crawling all over it. It's nothing."

"Maggots? Let me see." A rustling sound came from the direction of Otner's voice, indicating that he was making his way over. 

"NO!" Fennyr ran over to Otner who stopped in his tracks, a surprised look on his face. "We've wasted enough time already. We have to keep moving if we're going to make it before dark."

"Aw, come on. Just one peek." Otner protested. 

Fennyr had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning aloud. "Otner, I swear when we make it out of this forest, I will find all the maggots you could ever wish for, but right now we need to go." Otner groaned and pouted but obeyed Fennyr. 

Fennyr walked back to the group, eager to get out of the area. "Let's go, guys." He said, then started walking west once more. The others exchanged puzzled looks before following him. 

Little did they know that something else was following them, using the dark shadows and the twilight haze of the wood to its advantage. 

Perhaps when Fennyr saw something out of the corner of his eye it was not just a trick of the light or of the mind, but something, or someone, real and dangerous. 

Something with a dagger in its claw and revenge in its heart.