The green dragon veered left, then right. The others were close behind him. He could hear the ragged breath of the red dragon draw ever closer. The heat from his breath radiated off the green dragon’s tail. The green dragon flicked it and caught his pursuer on the snout. A roar reverberated across the sky.

The green dragon tucked in his wings and dipped down like a dart. He fell below the cloud line, cloaking himself with the fog and moisture. For now, he was safe. He checked left and right—spoke too soon.

A silver behemoth came from the left, silent as an owl on the hunt, but as subtle as an avalanche—with all the power of one behind her strike. The green dragon extended his wings and raised them. The wind filled his wings like sails, and he caught the updraft fast enough to rise out of the way of the silver dragon’s attack. His foe roared in frustration as she passed him by.

He had to keep moving—no, not up!

A white and a blue blur descended upon him from above, like eagles diving for a fish. The white dragon was smaller than he, and the blue dragon was close in size. Despite this, they didn’t provide much space for him to glide between them. He’d need to go on the offensive; part them by force. The green dragon inhaled sharply, closed his third eyelid, and let loose a noxious cloud of green-brown toxic gas. The gas streamed from his mouth but did not go far from his body. Instead, it pooled around him, trailing beside and behind him like someone had disturbed the silt bottom of a streambed. He was immune to its effects, but his opponents were not. They were quick to dodge out of the way, hoping to avoid having their insides dissolved by the toxic exhaust.

The green dragon was above the clouds once more, but he was still being pursued. A brass dragon circled him from far above. She was not going to strike yet, but she saw him, and she was preparing to move. Perhaps she wanted to wait for him to wear down first. Perhaps she was just hoping to scare him with her presence. Or perhaps she was only meant to serve as a distraction for the red dragon, who had returned to claim his prize.

There was nowhere to run for the green dragon. Three foes below, one circling above, and one coming at him head-on. Should he fight? Perhaps it was necessary.

He gave a defiant—if half-hearted—roar as the red male trumpeted his war cry. The two drew nearer and nearer, closer, and closer. The green dragon could smell the brimstone on his enemy’s breath. The brass dragon began to dive as the red dragon closed in. Claws ready, fangs bared. He could see the shapes of his three foes below moving in closer from below. He was surrounded. No choice but to fight then.