Biting wind gripped at her ears and sent her consciousness back to her body, back to the bramble bush and right back to her painful reality. The dragon didn't move and it didn't so much as blink. If it weren't for the life in its bright eyes with it's slow breathing she would have thought it was dead.
A war in her mind began. This dragon seemed so vulnerable and week, so in need of her help, that she couldn't simply leave it there to die in the cold, no matter how formidable of an enemy it might become. The most humane thing for her to do would be to put it out of its misery, it was obviously hurt badly. That way it wouldn't ever be able to hurt anyone. She felt sick at the thought of taking such an intelligent creature's life, but new that it was probably the best.
Cautiously, Feywen reached her hand out a few inches. The dragon's body language didn't change at all, so she proceeded slowly, with great care. She clenched her eyes shut for a second when she felt the warmth of this creature's blood spilling onto her fingers. Though she became increasingly uncomfortable with every drop down her wrist and onto her sleeve, she didn't allow it to deter her, and she soon laid the dragon gently before her surveying eyes. The severity of the wound was not hard to assess. Between the dragon's wings and traveling down its side was a deep gash, bleeding profusely.
Even in its disheveled state, Feywen couldn't help but admire its beauty. Each miniscule scale was an opaque black with layers of dark greens, blues and purples that only appeared when the light reflected off of them, giving it an iridescent look. Tiny yet formidable claws and spikes glistened white, and the abysmal purple of its eyes, now half hooded from fatigue, was captivating. She dismally realized that she had only ever come across eyes of such a color once before; her own. She rushed to get her mind off of their surreal connection and tore a strip of fabric from the bottom hem of her skirt. She wrapped around the open wound as best and carefully as she could in an effort to slow the bleeding.
They sat in the cold, waiting for something they did not know as time continued around them. A sinking feeling swelled within her with each thought of ending the dragon's life. The broken form of the incredible beast broke her heart, more so than it should have. Images flashed through her mind of the dragon grown, powerful, and flying over her old home with flames pouring out of its mouth, maliciously destroying everything she had ever known without a second though, all because Feywen didn't have the strength to end its life. Still, these scenes melted away before the site of
A war in her mind began. This dragon seemed so vulnerable and week, so in need of her help, that she couldn't simply leave it there to die in the cold, no matter how formidable of an enemy it might become. The most humane thing for her to do would be to put it out of its misery, it was obviously hurt badly. That way it wouldn't ever be able to hurt anyone. She felt sick at the thought of taking such an intelligent creature's life, but new that it was probably the best.
Cautiously, Feywen reached her hand out a few inches. The dragon's body language didn't change at all, so she proceeded slowly, with great care. She clenched her eyes shut for a second when she felt the warmth of this creature's blood spilling onto her fingers. Though she became increasingly uncomfortable with every drop down her wrist and onto her sleeve, she didn't allow it to deter her, and she soon laid the dragon gently before her surveying eyes. The severity of the wound was not hard to assess. Between the dragon's wings and traveling down its side was a deep gash, bleeding profusely.
Even in its disheveled state, Feywen couldn't help but admire its beauty. Each miniscule scale was an opaque black with layers of dark greens, blues and purples that only appeared when the light reflected off of them, giving it an iridescent look. Tiny yet formidable claws and spikes glistened white, and the abysmal purple of its eyes, now half hooded from fatigue, was captivating. She dismally realized that she had only ever come across eyes of such a color once before; her own. She rushed to get her mind off of their surreal connection and tore a strip of fabric from the bottom hem of her skirt. She wrapped around the open wound as best and carefully as she could in an effort to slow the bleeding.
They sat in the cold, waiting for something they did not know as time continued around them. A sinking feeling swelled within her with each thought of ending the dragon's life. The broken form of the incredible beast broke her heart, more so than it should have. Images flashed through her mind of the dragon grown, powerful, and flying over her old home with flames pouring out of its mouth, maliciously destroying everything she had ever known without a second though, all because Feywen didn't have the strength to end its life. Still, these scenes melted away before the site of
