Arveiaturace watched the Terrasil Elves from the corner of her eye. They were too strong... There was no room left for White Dragons on the ice plains.
Mirabar had become a vassal of Luskan, and the Mirar Coast, once a place where White Dragons ran wild, had changed hands completely.
White Dragons might sound weak, but that depended on what you compared them to.
Being none too bright did not mean they could not kill other animals. They were merely vulnerable when young. Without a mother to look after them, they had a hard time, but they could still survive by stealing scraps of carrion left by adult dragons and digging out ice-plain mice.
Unlike the Half-Orcs who survived on moss and snow worms atop the Spine of the World, White Dragons lived below the mountains' halfway point. Once they grew older and the energy in their bodies became strong enough that the Spine of the World's peculiar environment would wear it away, they moved down to the ice plains beneath the peaks.
On the Northern Ice Plains, what creature could possibly be stronger than White Dragons?
Few other dragons could tolerate such bitter cold.
But after Luskan changed hands, Arveiaturace observed it quietly for a long time. She knew the White Dragons' good days were over.
Even if she joined forces with Arauthator, they stood no chance.
Arveiaturace drew her wandering attention back. There was no turning back now, and regret would do her no good.
She lowered herself as much as she could and brought her long, narrow head close to Edna. "You're so close to the Terrasil Elves... Surely you understand there's no place left for White Dragons on the ice plains?
"Auril probably wouldn't dare do anything. What could we possibly do?
"Leave this place... Where