⬛⬛⬛7) Sci-fi/ Fantasy Short Story
The blazing orange dragon was snapping at the other. 'You let the unicorn get away!" He complained, his red eyes bulging with enmity. "So you realize we will not eat for a month now?'
The grey one nodded somberly. "If I hadn't we would be dead already," snapped he, his long tail flashing through the air.
"How are we going to survive then?" the he dragon mumbled. "Dark magic?"
"Hardly," Fog replied, touching his tail to Game's shoulder. "I wish you luck."
Fog twisted his head around, dropped his tail, and attempted to communicate, without words, what he was thinking to Game. Finally he slumped his shoulders. "Have you not heard of the Granite?"
"Now that you mention it, no," Game countered unhappily.
"This is the peace of which we speak," Fog retorted, "if we are to live we must work together, like one seamless machine, working smoothly until all parts of the puzzles are finished," he reminded him scornfully. "But now we are that same machine, but breaking down because of the rotten core: argument.
" If you argue, horrible things will corrupt you from the inside, " Fog pointed out, and Game's gaze soften as he understood.