Black, icy water engulfed Murtagh. It seeped through every pore, it's chill filling him with a mix of terror. Quicker then he expected his body started to shut down, he couldn't form thoughts, his legs wouldn't move. The slighted movement caused unbearable pain. Light from the surface seemed like a distant memory where it danced and simmered on the surface like a tantalizing secret right out of his reach, as he sank lower into the lake. The weight of his armor was dragging him to the bottom fast; soon he couldn't see the light at all.
It was quiet, still; nothing like he had ever experienced before. Visions flashed before his eyes, a light blared out of nowhere. It filled him with peace, hope that painlessness laid beyond the doors of death. He wanted to die. Then his feet touched pebbles. Suddenly horror seized him, he didn't want it to end like this, it couldn't! Madly he tried kicking and twisting about, but his body was too weak, in desperation he sank again to the bottom. His lungs were burning, slowly a fog closed over his eyes and he knew no more.
Thorn saw his rider leap off of the cliff, soldiers chasing him out of the forest, yelling as they stopped, swords drawn, right at the edge of the cliff. He could just hear their confusion as they shouted, wondering what to do. With a roar he unleashed his wings, knocking over a fir as he pumped up and down to gain altitude. With a scream that burnt the very air, Thorn flew right at the soldiers, some who dived out of the way screams filling the air making cloud, several tumbling down the cliffs to meet rocky their rocky dooms. Changing direction mid flight, Thorn nose dived, hitting the water with a splash that echoed through the chilled forest.
Something stirred in Murtagh, he opened his eyes and burned. The water tingled his skin and he was cold again. Suddenly the water stirred above him. Forcing his eyes open again, he knew it had to be the end. They were coming for him.
Bubbles flew around them as Thorn swam awkwardly through the water. He spotted his rider. With one motion, he grabbed the edge of his armor. Beating his legs, Thorn managed to turn around and with all the might he still mustered, swam to the surface. Quickly he saw that they were now alone except for the bodies of the unfortunate souls who lay at the bottom of rocks. Rushing out of the water, he could barely hear the breathing of his rider. Fear gripped at his heart making him fly faster.
Cold drops licked Murtagh as he was set down on the frozen sand. The world was now bathed in white, it fell from the sky to land on Murtagh, making him feel like he was made of ice. He could feel again. Breath. Coughing up water and blood, he looked around expecting to see the world of the dead. Instead his gaze met with a world of cold splendor. He set his head against ground again, shivering violently.
Roaring filled his ears, turning his head again he saw great the great leaps and bounds of a fire. Orange, red and blue flames licking the ground, dancing on the edge of the water. Numbly, Murtagh groped for something to pull himself up with. A scaly, nose touched his back, pushing him near the fire. Teeth picked up a fallen fir bough and draped it over him. A claw gently lifted his head and nudged a wad of brown grass under it. Warmth started to fight the cold and Murtagh slowly fell asleep.