In the Evermoors, dappled with light and shadow after the disaster, Bestna, drenched in blood, dragged the little White Dragon along as she ran for her life.
In truth, they had more or less escaped danger already, but their condition had hit rock bottom.
Moreover, the life-saving trump cards she carried had all been used up when she escaped those troll shamans before—some magic scrolls her mother had left her.
If those trolls followed their trail and caught up with them again, things would get troublesome.
Bestna dragged the White Dragon all the way to the bank of a tributary where the Surbrin River flowed into the Evermoors before finally stopping.
Here, they could wash away and conceal the bloody scent on their bodies. And even if the trolls caught up with them here, they could leap into the river at any time and escape the Evermoors along the tributary.
Besides fire and strong acid, another weakness of trolls was that most of them could not swim.
"Second White, get some rest. I'll go find you something to eat—Second White!!!"
As Bestna spoke, she turned around and saw Second White rolling his eyes, covered in wounds and looking like he was about to breathe his last. It nearly scared her to death.
"Mom, could you at least look back at me?"
The little White Dragon was aggrieved beyond measure.
His injuries had not originally been this severe.
But every time he tried to speak while being dragged along by his frost giant mother, either his head slammed into a tree trunk or his ribs struck a rock. Before he could utter a complete sentence, he had been dragged so far that more than half his scales had curled up, and he was down to his last breath.
"Ah, I'm sorry,