Raknor heaved, the heavy weight of his body made him fall onto the forest floor. The pain was so unbearable, his clawed fingers dug into his abdomen where a deep stab wound was.

He glanced up at the sky as tears filled his eyes. Even though Raknor was alone, he couldn’t help the shame that seeped into his very being. He had been a strong, prideful dragon, one of the best dragon warriors for his queen. Now here he was, reduced to what he felt like a sniffling child.

Raknor had barely survived the battle between the orcs. Orcs were known for creating wars with any species ever to exist, even weak little humans, and even then orcs would lose. So, when they declared war upon the dragons, the dragons laughed and continued their living amongst their piles of riches. They underestimated the orcs. They had somehow got wizards and faes, making potions that would reduce dragon forms into their more human-like forms.

Raknor looked down at his shaky, bloody hand. All dragons can turn into a more human-like form, yet they still had their wings, horns, tails and claws. But it is mostly frowned upon to do so. Raknor felt disgusted in his own body, to be reduced to this weak form. And not only that, but he felt guilty for living. Most of his dragon friends died, or captured as orc slaves, not able to take on the orcs in their smaller forms, and Raknor just fled. Like a coward.

He whimpered as a sharp pang shot through him, and he gripped tighter onto his wound. He rolled over to lay on his back to look up at the sky, though it was all blurred through his teary vision. He knew he was softer from the other dragons— despite being a warrior. He’d always been a bit different. Most dragons being greedy and aggressive, Raknor always would share his gold, and be a gentlemen to all the dragon dames. But he felt ashamed for running.

“What the hell…” he growled weakly. “I deserve to die… i should have died on the battlefield… why me? Why did I survive—“ He jolted upright quickly— hissing in pain— when a twig broke. Fear rendered him to stare off into the forest, frozen in place despite the throbbing pain.

Had the orcs found him? Have they come to finish him off? Or worse, had they come to make him their slave?

His lip quivered as he expected the worse. When he saw you step out from the bushes, his eyes widen slightly, and he awoke from his frozen spot, shuffling back against the dirt.

“St— stay back, I’m a very— p— powerful dragon!” He cursed at himself for stuttering in fear. “Don’t underestimate me.”