It was the sensation of their presence that saved him. The brittle, skittering feeling that brushed along his back as they wheezed, like the dying breath of some long forgotten prisoner, locked away and forgotten in a dungeon deep underground. He did not see them, the mere proximity of the creatures enough to send him into a blind panic, fighting for his life. He, who had trained with the most knowledgeable instructors his father could gather. He, who excelled above even the Captain of the Palace Guard in both swordsmanship and the art of warfare. Had he kept his eyes open and his wits about him, the Prince might have noticed that the first blow shattered his sword. The second nearly cost him his left arm.

Blind and in pain, he stumbled madly away from the beasts, who stood hovering just out of sight. Wheezing, dry breath sucking the very moisture from the air. Night had not yet fallen.

They would wait.

Finally, I finished the next page! D: I've had this image stuck in my head for quite a while now, and only managed to get it out on (digital) paper until now. I always felt like I had more pressing matters to attend to. Still, I'm happy with this version. I think this is the third one I've done for this page, lol. I like to think I'm improving! I'm going to keep up the sketchy style for these pages, its growing on me. :)

I'll link to the other pages later! They're in my gallery though!