Her wings hurt. Fear had pushed her to fly further than she should have. It was exhaustion that finally made her land. Now she sat on a grey tooth rock, chilled by a wind off a wide, grey lake. There was no sign of civilisation. And that was good.
Her wings itched. They were dry from the wind, but she had none of her mother’s oil to soothe them.
That had been the last word she had heard her mother say. There had been no warning when the men came and when the Draomen had tried to fly, the humans threw hooks and ropes and an awful stinking liquid that burned their thick wings. Her own wings were dotted with angry red welts where the liquid had scattered, but she was lucky. She had escaped.
Her stomach growled. It was long past breaking time. Letting her instincts take over, she walked slowly into the water, feeling it’s icy bite until it was up to her hips. Her sheath had been lost as she escaped but nakedness was not as issue for Draomen.
It was for human’s though. And if she was to carry out her plan, she would have to pass as one of them.
In the water, something glittered. In one swift movement her hand plunged in and drew out a silver fish. It bent and flexed, desperate to escape. In a quick movement, she plunged her claws deep into it’s skin and it ceased to move.
She ate perched on a rock, staring at the water and thinking of revenge.