Dragon by Finley Aaron Page B

at Saint Evangeline’s, and I have my license. I can take a turn driving so Ion can sleep.
    I could be home by the end of the week.
    The thought pushes me forward, and I run faster, leaping the smaller branches, pounding through the underbrush, panting hard.
    And then I smell it.
    At first I assume it’s the odor of a nearby farm with a lot of livestock. Or maybe I’m crunching some odoriferous leaves as I bound through the forest.
    But I sniff harder, inhaling specifically through my nose. It’s faint at first, and I think maybe I’m paranoid, or imagining things, but the further we run, the thicker the smell gets, until there’s no denying what it is.
    “Ion!” I call out to him, but he doesn’t slow down.
    He’s been pulling ahead of me, never mind that I’ve been running faster and faster, until my throat burns with bile, which mixes with the stink of the yagi, so thick I could choke.
    Ion doesn’t answer, only runs faster.
    I don’t want to yell, or do anything to draw any more attention to myself than I’ve already done by crashing through the dark woods. You know, just in case the yagi haven’t noticed me yet.
    Right.
    “Ion!” I practically scream his name.
    He glances back.
    Okay, two weird things. One, he’s finally taken off his sunglasses, which he’d been wearing all night (I guess I sort of figured they were prescription? Honestly, his eyewear has been the least of my concerns) and his eyes are sort of glowing a silvery green, which would be right lovely if it wasn’t completely unnatural.
    It’s like they’re lit up from behind, a little like how cat’s eyes glow at night, except more. It’s freaking me out.
    The other thing, which only serves to make the first thing a ba-zillion times more freaky, is that he’s grinning.
    Not a friendly grin.
    More like an evil, mocking, hungry grin.
    Yes, hungry.
    I see this all in an instant, in way less time than it takes to tell it. At the same time, I’m still running and staring at Ion, so of course you can guess what happens next.
    I trip over a branch and stumble forward, skidding along the undergrowth (I really hope there’s no poison ivy here, because I’ve had that before and it was awful) and kind of rolling onto my back as these unnatural clacking noises clatter all around me.
    Something is moving toward me through the woods. Moonlight glints off squat, domed heads. I can’t see them terribly well in the darkness, but what I can see looks like bugs walking upright, except they’re taller than I am, and they’re making the most horrendous rasping sound, kind of like they’re clearing their throats preparing to spit.
    Yagi.
    They’re coming from every direction.
    “Ion!” I scream again, this time not so much calling out his name, as just screaming.
    The moon is still just a sliver, the light mostly shadow and darkness, but I can see their shiny heads pouring from the trees on all sides, closing in on me. The smell is thick, so thick.
    I am completely surrounded.
    The rasping sound is seriously freaking me out. I’m pretty much just screaming back at them now, a battle for volume I can’t begin to win. Their noise is unearthly, grating, making me clench my teeth together, locking all my joints as I lie frozen on the ground, rendered immobile by that hideous sound.
    The simmering moonlight moves in ripples off their heads, highlighting what it had at first camouflaged. Atop their domed heads, what first looked like eyebrows now spring up straight from their heads like spears. Antenna? Horns? The first of the yagi dip their heads toward me, swinging the spears like swords to slice, jab, or impale.
    My swords are digging into my back, a sharp, stabbing sensation that pierces my terror and reminds me that I have swords.
    I have swords! The reminder is enough to jolt me out of my sound-induced stupor. Leaping to my feet, I grab my two longest and baddest swords, the ones I keep in the double baldrics in an “x” across my back. I’m