One hatchling snapped wide and missed; Kael stepped inside the empty bite and drove the stake down through softer scales near the jaw hinge.
Another thrashed and scraped the wall, confused by its own echo; Kael slammed the crowbar's stake into the back of its skull with both hands, using the weight of his whole body.
The cave filled with wet impacts and the sharp, copper smell of fresh blood.
The last of the awakened hatchlings managed a weak hiss and a desperate snap that nearly caught Kael's forearm.
The teeth grazed cloth, tugging, and Kael felt the momentary pull, felt how easily it could have been skin. He snarled something under his breath and ended it with a shove of the stake into its throat, pinning it until its movements stopped.
The silence that followed wasn't peaceful. It was the kind of silence that came after something had screamed and died and left the air heavy with what it couldn't finish saying.
