The slow stomp of the dragon's footsteps wakes tremors across the ground, even here, where they're tucked away--her bellow so low it shakes the air. Ellie's skin smells burnt, a smell Matthias knows well. He touches his fingertips to the raw flesh of her hand. At first the contact will be painful but then it will feel cool, a little brush of healing. Not enough to knit back the skin but enough to temper the pain.

"Back," he says. Dragons see better than they hear--humans are like insects to them--but instinct keeps him quiet all the same. "Back, this way--we can loop around and get some of the blood--"

When she plunges them into invisibility it feels like nothing. Or maybe it's only that they're running, clumsily, squeezed between stone, and Matthias has got to concentrate on that, on putting one foot before the other, on not knocking Marcus' staff about as they go. Once he nearly drops it--he's got to stop dropping staffs--and when he looks down at his hand he doesn't see it, and a little thrill passes through him--but he keeps going.

Out the other side and the dragon's roar comes from behind them now. The blood Ellie had spilled forms shiny blackish puddles on the floor.