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Russel pulled his arm back, brambles snagging and tearing the fabric of his sleeves. He'd left his sword inside, but it took him less than a minute to retrieve it and hack his way through.
She wasn't there. She couldn't have gone far and Russel examined the path for signs of her passing. He could see the scraping where she had fallen in the dirt, but no footsteps from it. Had she jumped to the grass and low flowers? He couldn't find traces of bruised grass or bent stems.
Russel fought a growl, stalking away from the fortress and toward where he had left the witch. He hadn't gone far before he realized that as much as the mountain looked the same, he was in a different place. The wench had moved him, dropped him somewhere else.
Well, if he wasn't going to catch her immediately, he might as well stay here a day or two. He didn't sheath his sword and jammed it into the body of the dragon, leaving it there as he went in search of the well and food. He needed to wash.