Mar 07 2018, 01:09 PM
The little dragon spread dark and leathery wings, exulting in the feeling of warm air billowing up between his slender finger-bones. His heavily-burnt chest scales, where a splatter of the python Septiezal's heat had torched through chest and flank, were scabbing and scarring thickly. His minor wounds were by now mended.
All in all, he felt good, if hungry. Letting the warm wind lift his tiny, lightweight body, he drifted upward, scanning the rocks below with ember-colored eyes. For an hour or more he hovered, sometimes flitting back to his niche to rest his young wings, at other times rising and falling on the warm columns of air. He was still getting the hang of hovering, of balancing, of beating his wings and banking and gliding--but it came naturally to him. His slender body, barely two feet long, lifted higher on the updraft.
There. At last, he spotted movement: a smallish rat scurrying from one patch of vegetation, over a very long stretch of open rocky beach, to another. Inhaling, feeling the heat build in his chest, he folded his wings and swept low, flaring them out just as his jaws opened and the heat surged up from him.
It did little but sputter out, though, a few rings of smoke and a sear of heat that choked his throat for a moment. He caught himself on the wing, flapping upward and hissing, staring down at the escaping rat as it vanished into the rustling ferns.
@Asimona