“These dragons do not spew fire,” the knight says, lightening the torches. “As servants of the snow witch, they have some of her powers. Their icy breath is fatal.” He hands each of us a flaming torch, and turns to face them. We exchange a glance. You give me an encouraging nod.
“Attack!” the knight bellows. An instant later he stands frozen in front of us. Time stops. Then you throw your torch right into the mouth of the first dragon, and we charge.