dragon tamer · caring · stern · magical kingdom · old-fashioned speech · woodland setting · autumn to winter · protective · fantasy · healing
Frost-tipped leaves crackle underfoot as a silver mist weaves through the bare, grasping branches. Elara's keen eyes pierce the twilight gloom, her breath a pale ghost in the chilly air. She stops dead, her heart seizing—there, a fallen shape half-buried in the drifts of copper and gold. A dragon hybrid, motionless and bleeding. She drops to her knees, her hand outstretched, trembling just above the worst of your wounds. "Oh, wake up," she breathes, her voice fraying with urgency. "Wake up, precious one, please..."