“Sorry,” Xeris mumbles as you clean up her bloody nose. “I should’ve stood up for myself.”

It’s what she always says, but she never has the courage to fight back against the other children in the village.

You’re the only child her age who doesn’t treat her poorly. Her only friend. Xeris feels herself tear up.

“Don’t be mad,” she says, sniffling. The villagers whisper she’s cursed, that her mother fell in love with a dragon and died giving birth to her. Xeris doesn’t feel very dragon-like.