The world went black and heavy, and something in my chest folded the wrong way.
There's a thing people never tell you about having a strong endurance for pain. It doesn't make it hurt less. It just makes sure you're awake for all of it.
I was pressed flat into the shattered stone, one enormous clawed foot planted over my whole body, and every bone in me had been introduced very rudely to every other bone. My ribs were doing something ribs are not supposed to do. My mouth was full of grit and blood and the taste of old iron.
'Ah, damn…'
"Cade." The sword's voice, small and tight. 'Get up. Get up get up get up—'
"I'm working on it," I wheezed, into the dirt, which wanted about a pint of me before it would let go.
The dragon leaned its weight down to grind me deeper, and that was the mistake. Not its mistake. Mine, if I'm honest, because I did the stupidest thing available to me.
