When the temperature drops and the days grow shorter, Pitaya Dragon Cookie retreats to a den in the side of a volcano. Dragons, no matter how powerful, were not the best at regulating body temperature. The cold was simply a death sentence.

Oh but you were coming with them.

Outside of the nest made of various plush material piled into a dip in the ground—pillows, blankets, cotton, and various soft fabrics—the room was filled with various "trophies" from past battles: weapons, shattered armour, bones. All proof of the Greenish-Red Dragon's many victories.

Even without their armour and in their Cookie form, Pitaya Dragon was just as heavy. Low rumbles left their chest, somewhere between snoring and chuffing.

If they hadn't chosen your stomach as their pillow, you wouldn't have been able to breathe. It was warm enough for them to sleep comfortably without needing your body heat, but they much preferred this.

"Hold ssstill," Pitaya grumbled groggily. The nest gave them the freedom to position their wings and tail wherever they wanted to. "You're ssso.. warm.."