The baby dragon had perfectly white scales, and it stared at the group with reptilian yellow eyes, clicking its forked tongue. It didn't yet know how to speak any meaningful language.

Roy backed away slowly. "Let's get out of here," he whispered. "Now."

But as he had almost reached the door, the hatchling burst out of its shell. The remaining pieces of egg were strewn to the ground as the creature stretched its wings for the first time.

Roy readied his bow and fired a shot, but the arrow bounced off the dragon's scales. The baby dragon made a sharp, whining cry.

"He'll call back the mother dragon if she's in range to hear that sound," said Roy. "We have to kill it, and fast."

Everyone had drawn their weapons. August crashed a magic missile into its side, but the dragon looked mostly unharmed. They would just have to rush it and whittle it down. Roy shot more arrows: one, two… the dragon seemed to be immune to some of their attacks, but slowly it was losing traction.

The dragon whirled around and attacked Cynder, biting deep into his flesh. As the dragonborn fell, Twile ran up to the beast and stabbed a short sword into its side.

Green blood poured from the open wound and the hatchling stumbled. Roy offered a thumbs-up. Now, he would aim for the wound.

His hands shook slightly; he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and felt the tension in his bow. The ranger opened his eyes and steadied himself. He would make this shot.

With a twang, he released the arrow. It dug deep into the dragon's side, right on target. The dragon cried again, this time moving in circles. It opened its mouth and breathed a tendril of ice out at anyone close enough to be hit by it. Twile and Black were both knocked backwards onto the ground.

One more shot. Roy loaded his weapon, aimed, and fired.

The arrow found its target, and with a whimper the hatchling dragon fell.

Cynder was still on the ground, but everyone else had gotten to their feet. A sudden chill struck the air.

"Anyone else feel that?" asked August.

"We have to get out," said Twile. "We have to go – now!"

He scooped up as many jewels as he could carry and ran out the door to the den. Roy and Black did the same, while August helped Cynder walk.

They backtracked to the village as quickly as they could and deposited their spoils in the cart.

"We all have to evacuate immediately," said Twile. "We're about to have a very angry mother dragon on our case."

August frowned. "Cynder's in no shape to go."

Black motioned to the cart. "Let's wheel him."

They set about lifting the barely-conscious Cynder into the cart. The village healer emerged from her house and began dressing his wound. Slowly, more and more villagers trickled out of their homes. There were about thirty in all. The healer was the only person over twenty Roy could see, and she was an old woman. She must have been in hiding when the Purge came, he realized.

Finally, Twile returned with the last of his crew and motioned for them to move out into the woods. Just as they entered the relative safety of the trees, they could hear the roar of a dragon in the distance.

#

They walked on all day and into the night, making a straight run until reaching Fallcrest. They were lucky enough to not run into anything bigger than dire rats and the occasional wolf. The winds whipped viciously about the travelers; a blizzard was on its way. Perhaps the wildlife had retreated in the wake of the storm.

The fleeing villagers looked a bit lifeless as they walked, as if they themselves were casualties of war. They do not speak, and carry their meager possessions with them in canvas sacks slung over their backs.

By the time they reached the city gate, Cynder was strong enough to walk again. A city guard stopped them at the gate.

"What is your business in this city?" he demanded.

"We are returning from a quest," said Cynder.

"Surely not all of you were hired for a quest! Where do these people come from? These children?"

One of Twile's crew spoke up. "We come from Alderhill, sir. A dragon made a nest next to our village. We were in grave danger."

"Hm," said the guard. "You'll have to be quarantined and inspected for disease before we can let you into the city. Filth fever, those things, you know."

"Whatever we need to do," begged the bandit.

"But as for those of you who are returning from a quest, you may enter." The gate swung open, and the four warriors, plus Twile, walked through it.

"Well, I guess our quest is over," said Black. "Let's go get our thirty gold."

"You're leaving them behind?" whispered August to Twile.

Twile nodded. "The best thing I can do is try to become strong enough to defeat the rest of those dragons myself, so we can return to Alderhill. I will go with you."

"We are going to a tavern known for being frequented by warriors looking for quests. You should have no problem finding a job there," said Roy.

"And I can use the money to help support the villagers," Twile added.

"Perhaps we should head to the marketplace first," said Black. "Before the storm hits. They'll already be packing up their wares. But perhaps we can unload some of our horde."

There was a general murmur of agreement and the group headed for the marketplace.

#

After selling some of their gemstones, they headed straight for the tavern. They had been sitting there for almost an hour waiting for the messenger to show up.

"Perhaps he's gone home for the blizzard, too," said Cynder.

"You don't have to wait if you don't want to," replied Black. "It's every man for himself now. Quest over."

Just as he finished speaking, a shuriken whizzed past and lodged itself into the wall behind Black's face. In the distance, a figure could be seen receding into the shadows.