The General's arms grew longer and longer, the thumb smaller and smaller until there was hardly any of it left at all, and the other fingers grew until they were little more than long, thin bones, with a scaly, dark-gray membrane stretched between them. The skin on all of his body darkened from its natural color, stopping when it reached a deep, charcoal black, and by then it wasn't even skin anymore - it was scales. The General's hair vanished, and his head changed from vertically oblong to a shape closer to a horizontal cone. His nose smashed against his face, becoming nothing more than dark nostrils not far above his upper lip, atop his snout. His jade-colored eyes, though, remained the same, the only still things in an ever-changing body. A long, black, whip-like tail thrashed about the deck, and the man's feet, which had broken free of their boots, and were now tri-clawed, hideous things bearing no resemblance whatsoever to what they'd been before, and his legs were covered in jet-black scales, rippling with muscles.
Everlynh, finding it in her to move, stepped back, then turned and began to flee. That book she'd read on New Berk. . . its description of the creatures hardly did a real one justice. They were much more terrifying in real life. The General-dragon lunged forward, straight at her.
The end of the deck came all too soon, and Everlynh barely kept from flying overboard. Furious snarls sounded. Fury snarls. She looked over her shoulder just in time to see Starflinger and Honest leaping at the monster, attacking it with vicious strikes.
Pheda charged at her, grabbing Everlynh's arm, and dragged her into the cabin, slamming the door shut and barring it. All of the ship's crew had retreated below decks not long before the dragonfight started, making Pheda wonder if this sort of thing happened often.
She leaned against the wall, panting not from the exertion, but from her pounding heart. She leaned her head against it, and closed her eyes for a moment. We're safe. . . for now. You?
'Good. Arggghhhh, this guy - thing - is tough. What even is it, anyway?'
A folktale. A myth come to life. A Lycanwing.
"Miss Kint?" Everlynh asked timidly as the sounds of the raging battle outside grew first louder, then softer, then louder again.
Pheda opened her eyes, and looked at her. The poor child was trembling. "Oh, Everlynh," she whispered, leaving the door, and kneeling to embrace her. Everlynh tensed, but didn't pull away. "You don't have to call me 'Miss Kint', okay? Your mother, Lindyr. . . she was my older sister. I didn't ever meet her, but she was just the same."
Everlynh's head jerked up, and she stared at Pheda. "What? But that means. . . you're my. . ."
"Aunt," Pheda finished. "Yes, it does. And there's more. I knew your father when I was a child. He was taken in the General's first raid, and was never found - in other words, he was one of the Missing. He was the heir to the throne of New Berk, the son of Chieftess Zephyr. His mother and his sister, Karda, are both on New Berk. It was partly for them that I went out searching so often."
"So. . . I have. . . a family? Still? Even though my parents are dead?" Everlynh asked, sounding surprised, and in a good way. She returned Pheda's embrace. "So I'm not alone, am I, Aunt Pheda?"
"No, you're not," Pheda answered. "And there's no need for 'Aunt'. Plain old 'Pheda' will do just fine."
Something crashed against the door, making it rattle. A voice shrieked in Pheda's mind, its words unintelligible. She frowned, and removed her arms from Everlynh's body. She stood, moving towards the door, then glanced back at her niece. "Stay here, okay?"
She unbarred the door, and eased it open, peeking through. When she was satisfied that it was safe, she slipped out, and shut the door.
Everlynh heard a draconian shriek, a Fury's, followed a splash. She threw the door open, not giving herself time to think, or talk herself out of her instinctive impulse. She disobeyed Pheda, running out of the cabin.