Long Lost Friends (Burning Bridges)

12 Feb 1371 (1828 Grimmlands calendar) 

Knives shouted for Chronosaj to hurry across the bridge as he reached for a flask hanging at his hip.  He pulled the cork out with his teeth and spit it into the river and downed the contents.  A smell reminiscent of cinnamon and lamp oil filled the air.  Warmth surged through his throat and filled his chest as the liquid raced through his system. 

He planted his feet and as Chronosaj leapt past him to safety on the far side, Knives took a deep breath and blew.  Fire raged from his mouth and spattered all over the rickety and sagging bridge, instantly setting the span alight.  The dogs paused, surprised by the unexpected move. 

The black dog ground his hind feet into the soft earth, bracing himself like a sprinter in the starting blocks of a race as he prepared to rush forward.  In a moment, he was off and running straight toward the river like an arrow loosed from a bow.  The dog leapt into the air when he reached the edge of the bank and sailed out over the Rioting River, landing easily on Knives and Chronosaj’s side of the river in a single bound.   

The yellow dog took a few steps backs and repeated his black pack-mate’s move, also clearing the twenty-foot gap easily as the fire continued to spread across the rotten wood of the derelict bridge.

The white dog moved to the landing on his end of the burning bridge and yelled out once more, “Thy tricks do not give us a heckin’ bamboozle, thief!  We are wise to thy game and will give thee one last chance to do a surrender! ”