Wings of Fire: Dragons, Steel, and Pom-Poms

XVII - An Inglorious Skirmish

"DOWN! DOWN! EVERYONE TO THE GROUND! DOWN!" Someone roared.

Greenling released a wheezing pant that could perhaps be approximated as a sigh of relief and moved to join them as best she could.

The common image many pictured when imagining or recalling a battle between forces of opposing dragon factions was that of an epic aerial clash of claws, teeth and fire which rivaled in power that of a hurricane in its glorious baleful might.

A not entirely inaccurate depiction, given that it is pretty close to how they usually initiate. But that is not how the duration of the engagement is played out. If flying and fighting have anything in common, it is that they both require the majority of a dragon's strength, energy, and attention to do effectively.

To simultaneously engage the sky and wind in a constant battle to keep yourself from slamming into the earth at speed and engage other dragons in a more literal battle is immensely difficult for even the best trained and disciplined of dragons, no matter the tribe.

And no matter how skilled or powerful a fighter you were, you could only stave off exhaustion for so long.

If that wasn't enough: In the air, even the best and strongest fighters can be taken out by sucker slashes from far weaker dragons. Such as her former Attack Wing Leader.

A given dragon's claws, scale armor and strength were more effective on the ground, anyway.

Greenling tried to manage a somewhat elegant touch-down landing befitting of a dragon's dignity- but instead could all but collapse the final tail-length to the earth in an exhausted heap, promptly scrambling back onto her talons as other dragons just began to make their own, hardly any more show-worthy landings.

Both tribes haphazardly formed up and squared off against each other once again. Hissing and snarling all the while. Neither side charging the other yet.

Greenling shook her head to collect her bearings. She flexed her talons against the unfamiliar moist soil, preparing to engage.

She was by no means an outstanding fighter, but she had good reflexes and could more than hold her own. Especially on the ground, where the odds between SeaWings and other tribes were more even.

Behind and all around her, SeaWings pelted out challenging roars to the SkyWing attackers despite their own exhaustion. The sky dragons drew themselves up on their hindlegs and flared their wings out in an attempt to appear larger in response.

The SeaWing soldier rolled her shoulders and flared her wings out. She closed her eyes briefly.

She wasn't afraid. She couldn't be. Fear was a waste of energy. She was a dragon, through and through. And she was here to fight.

Alright, SkyWings. We managed to tire you out this time, now it's our turn to push the fight.

She braced her legs to charge and bared her teeth, reopening her eyes with newfound determination burning within them.

And the first thing she saw was a bright burst of orange-yellow right in her face.

Greenling shrieked as a wall of heat slammed into her scales and she reeled back, her brain overwhelmed by every alarm it had now screaming full force.

DANGER! FIRE! PAIN! ESCAPE! DANGER!

Any pretenses of calm and collected thought flew out the cave, and Greenling couldn't remember anything except adrenaline, rapid movement, and something heavy colliding with her upper back and shoving her hard into the dirt.

"Stay down! Get the heat off!" a voice yelled in her ear.

She was immediately yanked back to her feet by strong talons.