The floor of the cavern surrounding the sleeping dragon was covered with ash, a powder so fine it looked like gray sand. Osric stepped on the ash and let out a silent breath of relief that his steps were silent. He took care to keep the dragon in sight with every step, pausing to make sure it didn’t stir.
The flame from the dragon’s nostrils made it necessary for him to detour behind a cluster of stalagmites. The ground was pebbled with small mineral deposits that had broken off from the stalagmites. Osric bent to look closer; they appeared to be made mostly of gold and silver. He resisted the temptation to pick up the precious metals. The lore was clear about what would happen if one were to take a dragon’s treasure. A few pebbles of gold weren’t worth the risk.
Osric emerged from the stalagmites on the far side of the dragon’s head. He had only twenty steps to the exit by his estimation. He stepped onto the next trail of ash and slipped, falling hard on his right hip and shoulder. The commotion woke the dragon, its right eye staring at Osric. He jumped to his feet and ran for the exit at top speed. The ash camouflaged a hole in front of the exit, and he fell through, the dragon’s fiery breath shooting over the hole as he dropped. The hole plunged him into a sloped tunnel lined with ice, and he slid downward uncontrollably.
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