The haze of darkness slowly faded away and with a quiet grunt, and a pounding ache in his temple, Garron regained consciousness.
As his awareness rose, the memory of the silhouette in the shadows returned instantly. His muscles tensed, his instincts sharpened, that familiar yet rare bloodthirst settled in, like a warm embrace, one he did not much prefer to indulge in.
But there were times...times such as this.
Garron could smell him, the stench of dark magic was heavy in the air. More potent than it had been when it was only the gorge in the ground with the dark miasma circling above it.
His eyes snapped open and Garron lunged. He did not get so far, forced to a halt by a sharp sting around his neck, and then a force pulled him back, his back slamming harshly into a tree.
"Scales!" Garron hissed, he could feel the cuff around his neck, rough edges digging into his flesh, and his hands were restrained in much the same manner.
