Chapter Twelve
Brogan’s dragon pawed at the snow. The wind had died down a little, but he could sense it was merely a lull in the storm as it changed direction. Thick flakes continued to fall, but not like the blinding flurries of yesterday afternoon and throughout the night.
The snow was deep enough that in some places it rubbed against his belly. Hopping over the depressed section, he looked up at the roof. Long icicles hung from the eaves over Delilah’s bedroom window.
She is lucky she not die, his dragon muttered, kicking at the white fluff.
Yes, she is, he agreed.
His dragon swept a wide circle in the snow with his tail, smoothing the area around him. With a grunt, the large green and white dragon sat down in the center and irritably blew short blasts of fire at some flakes of sn
