Erik thought back as far as he could, not for dragons, but for anything of the equivalent. The ice elf’s comment brought a snort out of him.
“If you think we are so similar, then you are mistaken. Jotun and dragons are of two different elements. To compare a dragons cold savagery to a jotun’s wild rage is a great mistake.”
He had fought wyverns, valkyries and other airborne threats, but had hoped his only experience with dragons would be finding his dragonskin and meeting Jormungandr’s bones.
Kespin reveled in the thought of meeting a dragon, though it looked as if he was the only one.
“Why should we kill it? I heard that a tamed dragon is good luck! Mostly because it hasn’t roasted you by then!”
Rolling amongst the ashes of the dying fire, he noticed the will-o-the-wisp once again in a panic, the dull pinging of its attempted escape becoming quite rhythmic.
“If it truly is the Root Gnawer, then maybe it seeks Ratatoskr! To be left without information is quite maddening.”

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