Waspwing was born in the mist. There was wailing all around, and the air was thick with the scent of blood. …
Waspwing was born in the mist.
There was wailing all around, and the air was thick with the scent of blood.
Yet for some reason, no one ran.
They raised their spears and roared, fought through blood, and stood their ground.
So little Waspwingthought: If they won't flee, neither will I.
This may be hell, but it's also the warmest place on earth.