Chapter 1: Introduction
The first impact tore the yoke from Maree’s hands. The little Cessna shuddered violently, plunging through a curtain of freezing rain that lashed the windshield like thrown gravel. One moment, the jagged peaks of the Scottish Highlands were a dark smudge below; the next, they were rushing up to meet her with terrifying speed. Engine failure. The words flashed in her mind, clinical and final, even as her training kicked in. Gloved hands fought the bucking controls, scanning the storm-lashed gloom for a sliver of flat ground, anything.
"Come on, sweetheart, hold together," she muttered, voice tight against the g-force, coaxing the dying plane. The altimeter spun down. Trees, skeletal and black, whipped past the windows. Too close. Way too close.
The world exploded.
A rending scream of metal. A brutal jolt that slammed her head against the side window. Stars burst behind her eyes, then darkness.
Cold. Wet.
Consciousness returned in shards. The acrid stink of fuel and burnt wiring clawed at her throat. Rain drummed a frantic rhythm on the crumpled roof inches above her head. She was hanging sideways, suspended by her seatbelt, the co-pilot's seat a mangled ruin beside her. Pain bloomed hot and fierce in her left leg, radiating up from her ankle. A groan escaped her, swallowed by the howl of the wind and the creaking protest of the wreckage.
Move. Move now. Fuel smell meant fire risk. She fumbled for the seatbelt release. Her fingers felt thick, clumsy. Click. She dropped hard onto the pilot's door, now the floor, coughing as displaced dust and rain mist filled her lungs. Sharp agony lanced through her ankle, stealing her breath. Not broken. Please, not broken. Sprained, maybe. Badly.
Gritting her teeth, Maree dragged herself backwards through the shattered windshield opening. Jagged metal tore at her flight suit, cold mud and heather met her hands. She pulled, inch by agonizing inch, clear of the wreck. The storm immediately assaulted her, rain needling her face, wind trying to rip her breath away. She collapsed onto the sodden earth, gasping, the world tilting dangerously.
Her plane was a broken bird, wedged between two massive, gnarled pines, wings crumpled, tail section snapped. Steam hissed from the ruined engine block. Alive. I'm alive. The thought felt surreal. She took stock: throbbing ankle, pounding headache, cuts stinging on her hands and face. Could be worse. Much worse. But she was stranded in the middle of nowhere, in a storm that showed no sign of relenting. The Highlands weren't known for their hospitality, especially not in November.
"Right," she breathed, pushing damp strands of hair from her eyes. "Priorities." Shelter. Signal. First Aid. Easier listed than done when every movement sent a fresh wave of pain up her leg. She tried to stand, putting weight on her good foot. Her injured ankle buckled instantly. "Nope. Not happening." Crawl it is.
She dragged herself towards the relative lee of the larger pine tree, its trunk offering scant protection. The forest around her was a shifting tapestry of greys and blacks, branches whipping like mad things. Visibility was maybe twenty feet. Her emergency locator transmitter was still in the plane – useless now, probably crushed. Her sat phone… she patted her pockets. Gone. Lost in the crash or ripped free during her escape. Perfect. Just bloody perfect.
Focus, Maree. She needed to splint the ankle, conserve warmth. Her flight suit was waterproof, thankfully, but already soaked through on the surface. Hypothermia was a real threat. She scanned the immediate area, eyes straining against the gloom. A broken branch? Something straight and sturdy?
A sound sliced through the storm’s roar. Not wind. Not rain. Something… else. A heavy, rhythmic crunch. Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Approaching through the trees.
Her breath hitched. Hope warred with sudden, primal fear. Help? Or something else? Poachers? Unsavoury types drawn by the crash? She pressed herself flatter against the rough bark of the tree, every sense straining. The footsteps stopped. Silence, thick and heavy, pressed in, broken only by the relentless rain.
Then, a shadow detached itself from the murk. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Clad in dark, practical gear slick with rain. He carried a long, heavy-looking rifle slung across his back and moved with a predatory silence that set her nerves jangling. His face was shadowed by a hood, but she caught the gleam of eyes scanning the wreckage, then the surrounding trees, methodical, alert. He wasn't emergency services. That much was clear. This man was hunting. But what?
He spotted her. His head snapped towards the tree. Maree froze, heart hammering against her ribs. He took a step closer, then another, his movements unhurried, assessing. He stopped a few yards away, rainwater streaming down his waxed jacket. His features were harsh in the dim light – strong jaw darkened by stubble, a deep-set intensity in the eyes that finally met hers. Green. Piercingly green, even in the gloom. They held no warmth, only a flinty appraisal and… exhaustion? Something haunted lurked beneath the surface.
"You crash?" His voice was a low rumble, barely audible over the storm, rough like gravel. Scottish, but not the soft Highland lilt. Harder.
Maree swallowed, finding her own voice a rasp. "Engine gave out. Came down hard." She gestured weakly towards the wreck. "Lucky to be out." She tried to push herself up slightly, wincing as her ankle protested. "Look, I could really use some help. Twisted my ankle bad getting out."
He didn't move. His gaze flicked from her face to her leg, then back to her eyes. Those green eyes narrowed slightly. He wasn't looking at her like a potential rescue. More like… a complication. Or a piece of unexpected data.
"Name's Maree. Maree Carter," she added, trying to inject some normalcy, some humanity. "Commercial pilot. Was flying… well, trying to fly… a charter from Inverness."
He remained silent for a long moment, his gaze sweeping beyond her, scanning the treeline again with unnerving focus. The wind howled, rattling branches. He seemed utterly attuned to the sounds of the storm, listening for something Maree couldn't discern.
"You shouldn't be out here," he stated flatly. Not unkindly, just a cold statement of fact.
"No kidding," Maree shot back, a flicker of her usual fire sparking despite the cold and pain. "Wasn't exactly on the agenda. Look, mate, phone’s gone. ELT’s probably scrap. I need a way out of this weather before I freeze solid, or a signal fire, or… anything. Can you help?" She emphasized the last word, holding his gaze.
He finally met her eyes again. There was a flicker of something indecipherable in his expression – reluctance warring with a grim practicality. He knelt, surprisingly fluid for his size, his movements economical. He didn't offer a hand, just studied her ankle where it protruded from the torn flight suit, swollen and already bruising. His fingers, surprisingly deft in thick gloves, probed gently but firmly. Maree hissed in pain.
"Bad sprain. Not broken," he muttered, almost to himself. He straightened up, rainwater dripping from his hood. "Shelter first."
"Thank you," Maree breathed, relief washing over her. "Is there… somewhere nearby? Your place? A bothy?"
He shook his head once, sharply. "Not safe." He unslung the heavy rifle from his back, the movement practiced and easy. He chambered a round with a smooth clack-clack that echoed strangely loud in the storm. The sound sent a fresh chill down Maree's spine, unrelated to the rain. What kind of shelter required a loaded high-caliber rifle?
"Why not safe?" she asked, keeping her voice level, though fear coiled in her gut. "Animals?"
He didn't answer immediately. He was looking past her again, head tilted slightly, listening intently to the storm. His profile was grim, etched with deep lines that spoke of years spent outdoors, facing harsh elements. He seemed carved from the Highland rock itself – weathered, immovable, and burdened.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low, gravelly, carrying a weight that made the storm seem momentarily quieter.
"Something worse," he said, his green eyes finally fixing back on hers, hard and unwavering. "I'm Todd. I track things. And right now, what I track isn't interested in sheep." He paused, the implication hanging heavy in the rain-lashed air. "That crash… it’s like ringing a dinner bell. We need to move. Now. Before it finds us first."
Maree stared at him, the reality of her situation crashing down harder than the plane. Engine failure. Injury. Storm. And now… dragons? This brooding stranger wasn’t just offering help; he was dragging her into his nightmare. The cold deepened, biting deeper than the rain.
"But..." she stammered, the sheer absurdity battling with the chilling certainty in his eyes. "What are you talking about? What 'it'?"
Before Todd could answer, a sound ripped through the Highlands, silencing the wind itself. Not thunder. Not a beast Maree could name. It was a roar. Deep, resonant, primal. It vibrated in her bones, shook the wet earth beneath her, and clawed at her soul with ancient, terrifying power. It echoed off the mountains, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere, filled with a chilling intelligence and a terrible, undeniable hunger.
Todd froze, head snapping towards the sound, his knuckles white on the rifle stock. All trace of reluctance vanished, replaced by pure, predatory focus. He didn't look scared. He looked… confirmed.
"Bronze Mountain subspecies," he murmured, the words clipped, urgent. "Closer than I thought." He shifted the rifle, his gaze sweeping the roiling clouds above the treetops. "Move, pilot. Or become bait." He didn't wait for her agreement, already scanning for a path through the dense, storm-wracked woods, the echo of the dragon's roar still shivering in the sodden air. Maree's pulse roared in her ears, louder than the storm. Shelter wasn't the priority anymore. Survival just got a whole new, terrifying definition. She scrambled to push herself up, the pain in her ankle momentarily forgotten in the face of the ancient terror that had just announced its presence.
The dragon's roar vibrated in Maree's molars. It wasn't just sound; it was pressure, a physical force that squeezed the air from her lungs and shook the muddy earth beneath her palms. Ancient. Hungry. Real. The absurdity of it collided violently with the primal terror flooding her system, leaving her frozen for a crucial half-second.
Todd didn't freeze. He moved with the lethal grace of a predator, hauling her upright with one powerful arm. Pain exploded from her ankle, a white-hot lance that nearly blinded her. She gasped, stumbling against him. His grip was iron, his body solid as the mountain itself beneath the sodden jacket. Rain plastered his dark hair to his forehead, but his green eyes, fixed on the churning sky above the treetops, were terrifyingly focused.
"Move!" The command was a guttural snarl, devoid of any argument. "That way! Keep low!"
He shoved her roughly towards a denser thicket of gnarled pines and tangled undergrowth, his movements urgent, almost brutal. Maree bit down on the cry of pain, forcing her good leg to push, dragging the injured one. Survival. Every instinct screamed it. The roar echoed again, closer this time. It seemed to come from directly overhead, a bass note that resonated deep in her chest cavity. The wind screamed in sympathy, lashing rain like icy needles against her face.
"Dragons aren't real!" she panted, the words ripped from her by exertion and disbelief, even as she plunged into the relative gloom beneath the thick canopy. Slick moss gave way underfoot. She grabbed a sapling, hauling herself forward. "They're myths! Fossils!"
Todd didn't bother looking back, scanning the gaps in the foliage above. "Tell that to the thing that just woke up hungry." His voice was flat, grim. "Bronze Mountain. Fast. Clever. And it smells blood." His gaze flickered to her ankle, then back to the sky.
Blood. Her blood. From the cuts, the twisted ankle. A dinner bell indeed. Panic threatened to choke her. She pushed it down, locking it away behind the cool, analytical pilot's mindset. Assess. Adapt. Survive. Shelter wasn't the goal anymore. Evasion was. Disappearing.
They crashed through dripping ferns, branches whipping at their clothes. Todd moved like a shadow, fluid and silent despite his size, constantly adjusting their path, pushing her deeper into the densest parts of the forest. The roar came a third time, so close the air itself seemed to shudder. Maree felt it ripple across her skin. She risked a glance upwards through a break in the canopy.
A silhouette. Massive. Impossibly vast wings, leathery and dark against the storm-lit clouds, momentarily blotting out the grey light. Not a bird. Not a plane. Wrong. The proportions were alien, terrifying. It banked, a shadow predator circling its wounded prey.
"Down!" Todd tackled her, not gently. They hit the muddy ground hard, rolling into a hollow beneath a massive, moss-covered boulder. Cold mud oozed into her collar. He covered her body with his own, pressing them both flat against the earth. His weight was crushing, his breath hot and rapid against her ear. "Don't move. Don't breathe." The command was a desperate whisper.
The shadow passed overhead again, lower this time. She felt the downdraft, a sudden, violent gust that flattened the ferns around their hiding place and sent a shower of rainwater cascading down. It smelled of ozone, damp earth, and something else… something hot, metallic, reptilian. The sound of its passage was a heavy, rhythmic whump-whump-whump of immense wings beating the turbulent air. It was searching.
Maree held her breath until her lungs burned. The shadow lingered, circling their position. She could feel the heat radiating off Todd, the tension coiling in every muscle of his body pressed against hers. His focus was absolute, aimed skyward, listening, feeling the predator above. Seconds stretched into an agonizing eternity. Rainwater trickled down her neck, cold as death.
Finally, the rhythmic beating faded slightly, moving away towards the wreck of her plane. The immediate pressure lessened, but the danger hadn't passed. It knew they were here.
Todd eased his weight off her slightly, his face inches from hers in the gloom. Mud streaked his weathered skin. "It'll check the crash site. We have minutes." He scanned their muddy hollow, then her face, his expression unreadable. "Can you run?"
"Not far." Her ankle throbbed viciously, a constant reminder of her vulnerability. "Not fast."
He swore under his breath, a low, harsh Gaelic curse. His eyes darted around their meager shelter, then locked onto her flight suit's thigh pocket. The one containing her emergency kit. "Flare gun. You have one?"
Maree blinked, startled. How did he—? "Standard issue," she managed, fumbling with numb fingers at the Velcro flap.
"Give it." His hand was already outstretched, urgent.
Confusion warred with the ingrained habit of following clear commands in a crisis. She pulled out the compact, bright orange plastic pistol. Todd snatched it, his movements swift and efficient. He broke it open, checked the single, fat red flare cartridge nestled inside, then snapped it shut with a decisive click. He didn't hand it back. Instead, he shoved it into his own jacket pocket.
"What are you doing?" Maree hissed, a flicker of defiance rising. That was her signal. Her lifeline.
"Plan B," he stated, his voice low and grim. He hauled her up again, his grip unyielding. "We need distance. Now. Towards that ridge." He pointed through the trees to a darker, steeper slope obscured by mist and rain. "If it comes at us head-on…" He didn't finish. He didn't need to. The flare gun wasn't for signalling rescue. It was a weapon. A desperate, last-ditch distraction against a creature out of nightmare.
They staggered on, Todd half-dragging, half-carrying her. The forest floor sloped upwards, becoming rockier, more treacherous. Roots snaked across the path, threatening to trip them. Every step sent fresh agony through Maree's ankle, stealing her breath. The roar echoed again, closer than before. It hadn't been fooled for long.
The trees thinned abruptly. They burst out onto a steep, exposed scree slope leading up to a jagged ridge. Mist swirled, obscuring the top. Below, the forest canopy spread like a dark, wet carpet. And above, cutting through the grey soup of cloud, the dragon banked sharply.
It had seen them.
It folded its immense wings and dove. Not a glide. A plummet. A spear of scaled bronze and muscle aimed directly at their exposed position on the slope. The wind screamed past its form. Its eyes, even from this distance, glowed with a cold, predatory intelligence. Maree's blood turned to ice. There was nowhere to hide. No cover. The ridge was too far.
Todd spun, shoving Maree behind him with such force she stumbled and fell hard onto the loose, wet stones. Pain exploded through her hip and ankle. He unslung his rifle in one fluid motion, the barrel swinging up towards the diving monstrosity. It was like aiming a peashooter at a tank. His face was a mask of grim acceptance, the lines deepening around his eyes. He braced his feet on the shifting scree.
The dragon filled her vision, growing terrifyingly large with impossible speed. Its jaws opened, revealing rows of teeth like ivory daggers. Maree saw the ripple of muscle in its neck, the gleam of saliva. She smelled the hot, carrion stink of its breath even over the rain. Time slowed. Todd's finger tightened on the trigger.
Then Maree remembered. The flare gun. Plan B. It wasn't in her pocket. It was in his.
As the dragon opened its maw wide enough to engulf them both, a terrifying chasm of teeth and darkness, Maree lunged. Not away. Towards Todd. Ignoring the shrieking pain in her ankle, she threw her weight against his side, her hand diving into the open pocket of his jacket. Her fingers closed around the cold, hard plastic of the flare gun. She yanked it free, rolling away from him onto her back, the loose stones biting into her spine. The dragon was a wall of scaled death, ten yards away and closing. Five.
Her thumb found the safety catch. Flipped it off. The instinct drilled into her during countless safety briefings took over, pure muscle memory cutting through the blinding terror. She brought the orange pistol up with both shaking hands, pointing it not at the jaws, but slightly above, into the storm.
SHE COCKS FLARE GUN.
The flare gun bucked in Maree’s grip, a sharp, industrial crack splitting the storm's roar. Not a bullet’s bark, but a hissing, incandescent birth. A searing red star erupted from the muzzle, trailing furious sparks and thick, acrid smoke that stung her eyes even as it bloomed against the bruised underbelly of the clouds. It flew up, a defiant counter to the plummeting terror.
The dragon, a scaled avalanche of muscle and ancient fury filling the entire world above her, screamed. Not the earlier territorial bellow, but a shriek of pure, startled agony. The flare’s chemical glare wasn't fire, not yet, but it was agony to eyes likely tuned for moonlight or deep forest gloom. The light hit it like a physical blow at point-blank range. The massive head jerked sideways in mid-dive, jaws snapping shut inches above the scree where Maree lay. Hot, rancid breath, thick with the smell of charred meat and ozone, blasted over her, making her gag.
Its immense body, committed to the kill-strike, couldn't fully arrest its momentum. Razor-tipped claws, each longer than Maree’s forearm, slammed into the loose rock slope just to her left, sending a spray of wet stones pelting her side. The impact shook the ground. The creature’s bronze-scaled flank, slick with rain, scraped against the scree only feet away, a grinding, metallic sound that set her teeth on edge. One wingtip, vast and leathery, slammed down like a sail onto the slope just beyond Todd, momentarily pinning a stand of gorse bushes flat with a sickening crunch.
"Now! Move!" Todd’s roar cut through the dragon’s pained shrieking. He hadn’t fired his rifle. He was already scrambling, not away, but towards Maree, his eyes wide not with fear, but with a fierce, almost feral intensity. He grabbed the collar of her flight suit, hauling her upright with brutal force. Pain detonated in her ankle, a white-hot spike driving into her knee and hip.
"Up! The ridge!" He pointed, his voice raw. The dragon thrashed, blind and enraged, its massive tail whipping through the air like a derailed freight car, smashing into rock outcrops. Chunks of stone flew. Its head snapped back and forth, jaws wide, emitting guttural, choking sounds, trying to clear its vision.
Maree stumbled, her weight collapsing onto her good leg. Todd shoved his shoulder under her arm, taking most of her weight. It wasn’t chivalry; it was necessity. Speed was life. They half-ran, half-fell up the treacherous slope towards the jagged dark line of the ridge Todd had indicated. Loose stones skittered under their boots. Rain slicked every surface. Maree’s breath came in ragged, burning gasps, each jolting step sending fresh waves of agony through her leg. She focused on the mud-spattered back of Todd’s jacket inches from her face, on the sharp, clean smell of wet wool cutting through the dragon’s stench and the lingering chemical tang of the flare.
Behind them, the dragon’s disoriented screams turned into a basso roar of pure, unadulterated fury. It shook its massive head violently, scales scraping rock. She heard the whump as its good wing beat the air, trying to gain lift, to orient itself. Searching. Hunting again. Blind or not, it knew where they were.
"Almost there!" Todd grunted, hauling her over a lip of wet, moss-covered rock. The slope steepened brutally. The ridge was closer, a toothy silhouette against the boiling grey sky. Mist swirled thicker here, clinging to the rock face. Maree risked a glance back. Below, the dragon had righted itself. Its head was lowered, nostrils flaring wide like bellows, snuffling at the scree where they’d lain. Where her blood had smeared the stones. It turned its head, one enormous eye still squeezed mostly shut, the other a molten slit of burning amber fixed unerringly on their scrambling forms. It knew. It saw.
Panic lent her a burst of strength she didn’t know she had. She pushed off Todd’s shoulder, scrambling on hands and knees over the slick rock, ignoring the screaming protest from her ankle. Her gloves tore on sharp edges. Cold mud plastered her cheek.
"There!" Todd rasped, pointing with his chin. Just below the ridgeline, half-hidden by a tangle of storm-lashed heather, was a dark fissure in the rock face. A cave mouth. Narrow. Barely more than a jagged crack.
The dragon roared again. Closer. Hunger and rage vibrated in the sound, shaking water droplets from the surrounding ferns. It was climbing the slope now, powerful forelimbs digging into the scree, wings half-spread for balance. Fast. Unbelievably fast for something so huge. The ground trembled.
"Get in!" Todd barked, shoving her bodily towards the fissure. "Go! Now!"
Maree didn't hesitate. She dove for the opening, scraping her shoulder against the rough stone as she squeezed through the tight entrance. Darkness swallowed her, cold and damp. She sprawled onto a floor of gritty earth, twisting around, heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Todd was a dark shape silhouetted against the stormy light outside. He took one last look at the approaching behemoth, then turned and squeezed into the fissure after her, the bulk of his frame scraping heavily against the rock. He stumbled inside, landing hard beside her, breathing heavily. He immediately scrambled back towards the entrance, unslinging his rifle, peering out into the gloom.
Outside, the shadow fell over the cave mouth. The dragon slammed into the slope directly above them. Rocks clattered down, bouncing off the entrance. Maree flinched as dust and debris rained into the cave. The stench of the creature flooded the confined space – wet reptile, ozone, and that underlying, rotten-meat reek.
It lowered its massive head, sniffing directly at the crack. One immense, slitted amber eye, still watering from the flare, filled the narrow opening. It pulsed with malevolent intelligence, scanning the darkness within, searching for them. Its hot breath, smelling of sulfur and decay, washed over them like a foul tide.
It knew they were trapped.
It SCREAMED.