John always admired the beauty of dragons, their iridescent scales, and the sparks of flame that would emit from their clutches. The sky would clear and the ground would crack open with their presence.

Currently, the knight stood out by the gates, his sight trained onto the scorched tree line.

You peeked your snout out, sniffing before retreating into the bushes. He could see the flicker of your tail from the other end of the bush and raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“Hiding, are you?”