"Senior, take the main damage role. Crabbe, keep them occupied. Goyle, watch the flank. Daphne, Dartel, stay here with me."
Montague raised no objection when he heard the arrangement. He merely nodded, then headed toward the depression where the nest lay. As the ground sloped downward, the surface vegetation gradually changed from grass to ferns and moss. The humus layer grew thinner the closer it got to the hollow, exposing the bluish-gray bedrock beneath, which reflected a dull halo under the moonlight.
Montague walked in the middle. His gait changed from his second step onward. His center of gravity visibly shifted forward, his knees bent deeper than usual, and the angle of his torso changed as well—his whole body resembled a spring pressed down and beginning to rebound.
When Crabbe followed, he lagged half a step behind. He was waiting for Goyle to cut in from the flank and take position. The three of them maintained a properly spaced attack formation throughout.
Montague rolled his neck, and two crisp cracks came from his cervical vertebrae. Then he drew a deep breath. As his chest expanded, his shoulder blades spread outward, and the muscles across his back rippled beneath his skin—a dark crimson sheen flowed down from the base of his neck like molten metal running through grooves, covering his collarbones, shoulder blades, and the entire line of his spine.
Dragon scales.
They pushed out from beneath his skin one after another, their edges sharp and their arrangement dense as they spread along the contours of his muscles.
Scarlet vertical pupils widened in his eye sockets, narrowing into thin slits. His irises shifted from light brown to deep red, like amber steeped in blood.
The line of his spine began to bulge—bony spikes pierced through his skin and grew outward, some