The sounds of battle roused Tsal'ven, and she slowly made her way to the mouth of the cave, sitting down into a bun much like a cat would. She heard Fhaemor come up next to her.
"So much magic being used for destruction," she growled, narrowing her eyes. "I doubt I can make up the difference."
"You always go on about magic but I've the foggiest idea of intent and all." Fhaemor looked over the cliff, trying to judge the best way to get down to scavenge.
"Magic is it's own being. If it is used forcefully, without thanks, or for too long for one thing , it withdraws." Tsal'ven laid her head down.
"Magic is a dragon, then. Lovely. Now I have to wait until all this is over to get someone to fly me down." Fhaemor gave up, finding the cliff too steep.













