Suddenly, an arrow flies from the brush, barely missing Grima's left shoulder. With a battlecy a young Kumiho leaps down from the trees above, slicing downwards with a sword as the young warriors from the camp charge, jumping from a carefully laid ambush. Their youthful leader is at the front, as Grima is surrounded, finding the point of a blade in every direction and a crossbow aimed at his face from the underbrush. The Kumiho that had jumped from the trees had grabbed onto Grima's back, holding a small blade to the dragon's neck. Their leader spoke. "Trash, huh? I saw my father burnt in front of my eyes by a dragon a few hours ago." The glare coming from the youth was almost physical in it's hatred. "You think you can come over here and say there's 'no quarrel' you piece of crap? I'll cut my quarrel into your guts."