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EIGHTEEN
I counted out all my embarrassing mistakes. Falling for Elliott, ignoring my father’s advice, foolishly venturing to the Drakii territory. All for what? To keep the cred of the Hunters alive. My father had only killed twelve dragons in his prime. Grandfather had killed fifty-eight and made the Hunters an important part of the movement, such that no meeting of hunters could be held without my family. At twenty, two years after the completion of my training as a Mankind Protector, I had only killed two. The dragons were not attacking. They came out less and less, with few to no sightings at night. How else was I to get my score count up? Kreon pressed his body to my back, absentmindedly playing with my fingers. His large hands were veiny, dark veins running to thick fingers. He read a b
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