Goyle nodded, his expression serious. "Next time you get a chance at a good fight like this, make sure you bring us both along."
Montague glanced at the two eager faces, his mouth twitching, and gave a slight nod of agreement. He lowered his hand and sat back down on the stump. Daphne's palm shifted from beneath his shoulder blade to a spot closer to his spine, and the pale blue glow spread a little wider.
The smells of blood and tarnished copper mingled in the center of the woodland, stirred by a faint swirl of body-warm air rising through cracks in the ground, slowly drifting toward the canopy.
"That's enough small talk. What leads have you found?" Draco turned to ask Daphne and Dartel beside him.
"I found something interesting while dissecting these wyverns' glands." Dartel adjusted his glasses, excitement in his voice.
"Oh? What did you find?"
"These ground dragons are different from those found elsewhere. They've evolved mutated glands in their throats that can produce Dragonfire, and there are remnants of wing membranes on the insides of their forelimbs. That proves these ground dragons are evolving into wyverns."
"They can fly? Could they be Welsh green dragons?"
"No, I mean we may have discovered a lesser flying dragon population that the Beast Office has never catalogued. I need more experimental specimens to support that conclusion."
At that, Montague stood and gently stretched, lifting his chin toward the east-southeast. "Past that hollow and over two ridges. I can smell them, and I've checked. At least five adults, a large territory, and no signs of other large predators nearby."
"Is that so? Crabbe, stay with Miss Daphne. Goyle, stay with our upperclassman. We're leaving now." Draco glanced in the direction Montague had indicated, waved everyone forward, and took the