Here there be dragon clichés...

VII - The heat was on and they were treading on thin ice...

Malcolm felt like the walls of the dragon's lair were closing in. Everything was spiralling out of control and they were in the eye of the storm. He was certain that the odds were stacked against them and they were about to be facing their darkest hour. Every step took them further and further into uncharted territory.

"You've got to be kidding me! Will you puh-lease stop doing that?" whined Harold.

"What?" asked Malcolm, trying to fathom what he might be doing to annoy his companion so much that it warranted breaking their silent agreement to be quiet.

"Look. It already feels like we're fighting a losing battle and we haven't even seen the dragon yet. It doesn't really help that you're making that weird noise with your mouth!"

"What weird noise?"

"That heavy breathing noise."

"I'm not making any-" Malcolm stopped short and held his breath as he listened. His sword hand trembled. "I've got a bad feeling about this..."

A dragon's roar echoed through the rocky crevice filled tunnel, shaking the very earth around them. Dust fell like rain from the ceiling of the cavern and puddles of water vibrated and rippled whilst the ground beneath their feet trembled and swayed like an earthquake. A moment later it stopped.

Except for the dust in the air and the beating of Malcolm's heart, everything was once more still.

Deeper into the sloping cavern, hidden in the unknowable and enigmatic darkness, something large moved and slithered, its huge mass crushing rocks in its path.

"Well, this is a fine mess you've gotten us into," whispered Harold.

"Me? You're the one who had dreams of becoming a real dragonslayer instead of a fake one. I wanted to turn around the moment we got here," hissed Malcolm indignantly.

"Too late now. We can't run away. The dragon would hear us. We're trapped like fish in a-"

"So... What should we do?"

"Uh, hide?"