The Dragon's First Flight

The dragon gazed up into the starlit heavens, her breath coming out in silver puffs. The night was as sharp as one of her talons. On her cliffside perch she could see for almost ten miles in every direction. Her claws made scrabbling noises as she shifted her weight, clinging semi-precariously to the steep ledge. The moon was out, silver light washing over the landscape, adding sharp shadows and shapes, and turning her flame-colored scales a muted red. A similar silver-white light came from the dragon's eyes as they glowed brighter in anticipation. Her shining eyes drank in the stillness of the night and the dark ocean of forest and rock beneath her. She smiled a draconic smile, the exhiliration of such a night making her slightly giddy, and tensed her muscles to launch into the darkened void of the night. She drew in a great breath, crouched so close to the cliff face that her tawny belly plates scraped the rock, winked back at the stars, and lept free of the protective cliff with a rush of displaced air.

The wind flowed past her scales in a crisp, sweet river, catching on her center spiralled horn and her crest, making her want to tilt her head back and roar her laughter out loud---but that breath was important until she controlled her descent. She snapped out her wings and was rewarded with a catching of her muscles and the feeling of wind filling her very large, pale golden wings. She closed the outer protective lids over her silver shining eyes, and the landscape took on a more crystalline scintillating aspect. She caught a glimpse of her shadow, racing her across the mountainside, and she swooped closer to the rocky face, putting on an extra burst of speed in a fanciful attempt to pull ahead of her silent sky-sib.

Tiring of the impossible game, she veered from the rock face and twisted her wings, pumping frantically, gaining altitude almost vertically. She snapped her wings in a series of high-powered propulsions to crest the top of the loop, her belly facing the midnight blue bowl of Mother's Egg and her front horn pointing towards the round swell of Father's Back. The change in gravity made her light-headed, for she was still a smaller dragon, and she straightened her wings with an audible snap. She bared her teeth fiercly as the wind tried to push her down onto the trees speeding towards her, and she flexed her muscles to pull out of the extreme dive, just skimming the bushy tops of the evergreen trees. She angled her wings to regain the lost altitude at a lazy pace until the forest looked like the textured back of an old dragon, with the bare ground as large brown armored plates, and the silver streams in the distance great horns. She breathed a few shots of flame, the quickfire tendrils snaking past her muzzle and neck, lighting her scales in bright, crimson banners. The dragon let her laughter ring against the mountains as she let the euphoria of this much-anticipated flight relax her; and she flew on into the night, letting the darkness swallow her in its protective embrace.

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OFFENDERS WILL BE TOAD.