Meanwhile at Universe 27…
It had come to be accepted across the land that dragons were as real as any common sparrow, and flew to and fro across the fading skies. Dragons were a dwindling species, hunted in their hibernation for sport and for their prized scales and horns, each of which could be sold at unnessicarily high prices. To survive, had taken to instilling fear into the populace, conquering entire kingdoms and ruling them with talons of might. Some dragons took a different approach to this, leveling entire mountains in a fiery blaze. Still more were benovelent creatures, keeping to themselves and granting wishes of weary travelers and wandering vagabonds. They were often creatures of the forest, large as mountians or minuscule as a mere sapling. Others… well…
Puruvith sat mounted atop her pile of stolen treasures, thumbing through a book out of sheer boredom. In a desperate attempt to understand the printed words, she shoved her fanged snout into the text, only to immediately withdraw. To her disappointment, it smelled only of hogwash and desperation; a smell she had linked to the fairy tales describing brave cavaliers rescuing nonexistent princesses from grossly immoral dragons out of very much climbable towers. Rubbish. Everyone knew that the royal livestock tasted better (or so rumour had it, Pyre had the itching feeling that no one had even bothered to try), and in the rare case when a princess was kidnapped by some short-sighted pushover, entire armadas were sent to rescue them, not just a single prince (who was held at home, usually not willing to risk his life). With a frowning glare in the general direction of the text, she knocked it off of the small fortune with a single swish of her tail.
Pyre slunk around her section of the caverns, guided by only the echoes of the dripping water among the walls. Truth be told, she was rather pathetic by dragon standards. She couldn't breathe fire, or anything else for that matter. She could barely be considered a tyrant, with a small, lanky frame that scales barely clung to. Heck, she couldn't even see. Her only saving graces were the bloodred scales that hung in drops around the bottom of her white, milky eyes. Each could emit a blinding flash to leave opponents dazed and seeing spots for hours… depending on how well she timed the blow.
Despite her handicap, however, Pyre had decided. Today was the day she would leave the caverns once and for all. Leaving the 'treasure' horde behind, she rubbed against the walls, guiding herself to the warm, gentle glow of morning.
As the air grew less and less stagnant, Pyre broke out into a bound, shaking the age-old dust from her scales. Heat glimmered on her snout. The strands of grass ran think and silky between her scaled talons. A rush of sounds reached her ears, the whistle of a songbird, the rustle of the grass, the gentle blow of the sweet midday breeze. Pyre took a deep breath, staring into the sun that could no longer scorch her eyes.
Finally. She was home.
