|
It was with great regret and great relief that Eyre left his home. Regret and relief on the part of himself and on the part of all who knew him. His tendancy to (through no fault of his own!) melt down the homes of any kind enough to take him in made most glad to see him go and yet sad because after all, he was warm, something rarely experienced by ice dragons living in a frozen world.
When Eyre finally made up his mind to leave he felt like a huge weight was lifted from him, while at the same time another great weight landed on his shoulders. He no longer had to worry about the repercusions of the way he was born, but nor would he ever come in contact with those who had been kind enough to term friends. A hot tear ran down the soft scales of his face to drip from his nose as he walked away, fanning the flames of his wings to keep him warm in the harsh cold of the only home he'd ever known.
He walked until he was out of sight and then spread his flame wings and rose into the sky, flying as fast as his thermal creating wings would allow. He flew on like this for quite some time, only stopping when his breathing grew ragged from such a prolonged use of his magic. He decreased the thermal, fanning his rapidly shrinking wings until his fur-covered feet hit the ground. In his exhaustion it didn't sink in that he was no longer surrounded by ice and snow but instead his foot sunk into soft loamy soil amongst fresh, young blades of grass, something he'd never experienced before. Warm and comfortable despite his depleted heat stores he curled up and fell asleep, his wings a mere flicker of heat along his back.
Continue
|
|