Rion took the dragon's fang from Marin and stared at it with a curious gleam in his eyes.
'Is it from the dragon that father had killed while fighting the dark king?' He wondered.
He turned to Marin and asked, "Why is it so small?"
The fang was as big as his index finger, but according to what the tribe members told him during his younger days, the dragon was big enough to shield the mountains from the sun.
Marin chuckled and answered, "It's a fang carved out from an actual dragon's fang."
"Oh?" Rion raised an eyebrow and mumbled, "It looks like a real fang."
"I am honoured to know that," Marin commented with a smile.
"Vice Lord, you are the one who carved them?" Kara asked with a tilted head, and Marin nodded in answer.
Rion's grip tightened around the dragon's fang, his gaze shifted towards the sun that was about to dip below the horizon, and he said, "Let us return to the tribe; we have yet to prepare for tomorrow's feast."
