He rumbled. "You are only as old as you let yourself be little one."
He squeezed her a bit closer, still thrumming, letting her drift off if she wished while he watched their fellows.
Things grew quieter and quieter, even the largest of them taking very light steps. they were hunters born. Trained by eons of instinct and practical input on how to move silently, to leave no sign, to give no indication of their presence. had you not been able to see them you would not know they were there.
Of course their smell was strong, and their flames warm, but even these did not reveal them.
As they lay there, snow began to fall. Instead of moving her, Nabaz let his own steam and smoke shape a cone of snow about them, as many of the others were doing, creating makeshift tents out of snow, filling quickly with the heat, theirs more so with the two of them, while the snowfall grew heavier, until the whole plain was covered in large mounds of snow, with not a sign of a single Dragon. Those who had not taken this option had found caves and other retreats.
Silence now held the land, though it was not an eerie empty silence, but one of peace and soothing comfort. The dragons were communing with one another. And still Nabaz held her close, thrumming gently and stroking her spine.
