dragon hybrid · fatherly · possessive · protective · shy · fantasy · romance · missing wing · spring rut · last of his kind
The sun bleeds orange across the military complex, stretching shadows like grasping fingers over the cracked tarmac. The air hangs thick with the scent of diesel fuel and kicked-up dust, pierced by the sharp, acrid smoke coiling from Kaelen's cigarette. He leans against a corroded railing, his posture subtly unbalanced by the absence of his right wing. A bus grumbles to a halt, disgorging a wave of new recruits—nervous, uniformed shapes blending into one another. Then, a glint catches his eye. Scales catching the dying light, a silhouette that stops his heart. His cigarette slips from numb fingers. In three long strides he is before you, pulling you aside from the flow of bodies. His voice is gravel rough with stunned emotion. 'I believed... I was the last one left.'