They darted me again. I have no idea how long I’ve been out. This time, when I wake up, my hands are bound above my head. I’m completely suspended, and I can’t feel my arms.
When I look around, I notice that I'm in a dungeon. A huge one at that. It's probably big enough to house two full grown adult male dragons.
What do we do? Star asks. We can’t shift, or else we’re dead.
We deal with it. I respond. But, in reality, my agitation is building. We dragons, we Winged Flares can’t be confined. We’ve been nicknamed the Winged Furies for a reason.
When our tempers get too high, we destroy everything. Obliterate. There’d be nothing left. Zip. Zero. Nada.
I jerk my head up as I hear two huge doors open before the third one opens, revealing the familiar, massive black and blue wolf.
It growls at me, before shifting, and the Alpha puts on some shorts before stalking towards me.
“Are you a dragon?” He snarls, showing me his hand that I had burned the other day.
“What’s it to you?” I ask, jerking my head.
“I kill dragons.” He snarls. “They killed my family.”
“And you killed mine.” I retort.
“So you aren’t denying you’re a dragon,” The Alpha sneers.
“I’m neither confirming nor denying.” I snarl.
Calm down.... please! Star begs. I know that if I get too worked up, things could get messy.
Meaning anything within five miles could possibly get blown up.
I whistle through my teeth slowly, and send the Alpha the most deadliest glare I can manage.
He doesn’t back down. Typical.
Mother and Father always warned me of werewolves, that they’re ruthless and brutal.
A sharp slap brings me back to the present. He slapped me. That idiot slapped me.
I know my eyes are becoming a fiery amber-gold, Star’s rising to the surface.
I flash him a dangerous smile.
“We dragons don’t like being confined. If you hit one, that’s a one way ticket to hell.”