Eamon sat atop Erenoth, gazing down at the forest as they passed overhead. As he looked to his Knights, he found them riding confidently, with the exception of Wrothgaar, who lay face down with his eyes trained on the scaly skin of his dragon's neck. Eamon chuckled, drawing an oddly stiff glance from the Northman. Angen, who was clearly enjoying Wrothgaar's plight, guided his mount closer, feigning a collision. Wrothgaar squeezed his arms and legs tighter, groaning. "What's the matter?" Eamon asked, calling over the high altitude wind. Wrothgaar slowly looked up, shooting Angen a scowl, and turned to Eamon. "I don't care much for flying." Angen laughed loudly, drifting away from the Northman to return to his place in the formation. "You'll be alright," he called. "It's not the fall that kills you anyway!" Eamon grinned, turning back to the view below. The tower of Southwatch was a short ways ahead, jutting above the trees like a gleaming black dagger.
What do You think about King Of The North (Book 3)?
