The Ghost and His Shadow

Brightspikes charged out of her pen and Ghost shoved away his newly protective feelings as Astrid threw her axe at the Nadder's head. She knocked it away with her horny crest in a flash of sparks and caused Astrid to lunge out of the way with another perfectly executed roll. She charged directly at Ghost, though her snarls had become more inquisitive chirps.

I guess she remembers me, perhaps by smell, Ghost thought as he again dropped the provided shield. Brightspikes halted, wings still partially outstretched for balance and began to sniff him, staring between him and the dropped shield with a quizzical expression on her face.

Her pupils had begun to widen when they both turned at a loud noise. Her crest flared and they both spotted Astrid charging at them with her axe raised over her head and a war cry bursting from her mouth. With a flash of concern for the Nadder whose vulnerable neck Astrid was aiming for, he scratched that same pattern in her scaly chin that caused her to collapse with a small yelp.

Astrid dug her heels in and stopped to stare at him in shock, still panting, with the axe he had made propped against her shoulder. The look on her face was both bewildered and frustrated but crept back into enraged fury once again.