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I can feel myself drifting away, my soul gradually leaving my body as it rises up. It is like nothing I have ever experienced before, the weightlessness as I float away, guided by some distant force that is calling me. I can still hear my mother's cries grow louder as she jerks up, eyes wide and filled with tears, her mouth twisted into a snarl, mutated by hate, racked with grief. She grabs onto my hand and holds it tight as it starts to grow cold and stiff. "Please! No! Don't take him! Please God! Don't take my son away from me! He is all I have left." She shouts, shaking her head frantically from side to side as her disheveled hair follows. "Please! I beg you. I pray, please! Don't let him go!" She falls apart, leaning over while crying hysterically onto my lifeless body with her back heaving as I phase through the roof and the world goes blank as her cries fade from my ears.

I have no idea where I am, whether I am in heaven or in hell. I know I did not mean to stick that bug up Pishkins nose in fourth grade. Why would I? I thought his name was hilarious at the time. Ok, I should have known better but we were outside, and I can't help myself when I see a bug. I just have to stick it someplace, whether it is in a box to observe or up someone's nose. He was fine because he snorted it out sometime later. I privately hoped it laid eggs so others could grow. Now another thought comes to mind, am I standing up, or lying down? I can't tell direction in this place and it is hard to know when your world is painted like a T.V. screen gone haywire. I try to move, but my body is held down like a concrete block in the middle of the river, no matter how hard I try, I can't budge an inch.

Memories begin to flash through my mind very quickly, the first time I opened my eyes, a unique sound I heard when in my mother's grasp. When I was three, of the time I spilled my food onto rough hewn clothes and a deep laugh startled me. When I was four and my mother taught me how to walk as well as potty training; I could see it took some time and frustration to achieve it. When I was six, after my birthday where I fell down and she kissed my booboo. When I was nine and it first became noticeable. As my life flashes before me, I remember what happened as if my mind went blank for a few seconds, that I had had an incurable disease and my mother had watched me die on my bed. Her son, her love and care for me had been substantial when I had perished like forgotten food.

My thoughts haunt me as I have nowhere to go, nobody to talk to, no places to be or things to see. Images of my friends skim by, a timeline of what I went through only returns the pain I felt when I was alive. The guilt that they could not visit me for fear of contracting what I had and the loneliness I felt every day as I grew weaker would not leave me be. The world around me is still blank, and I don't know if something is suppose to happen or if I am suppose to do something to get there. At least with my thoughts and memories I can past the time, even if there is no sense of time where I am. I still feel like I am floating somewhere, a destination that is taking longer than previously thought or if a prank is being played. I wonder if I am the only one feeling this at the moment, if other people who have died are waiting or watching those floating up to enter heaven, or hell.

After what seems like an eternity, electricity jolts through me, startling me into opening my eyes. My breathing or lack of breathing tells me I am definitely dead, and what happened might be a figment of my imagination. It strikes again and I try to move, but having vainlessly tried countless times earlier, I know it is not going to work now, but my body seems to not get the message. The tension builds up as it continues, nothing getting through with no sense of pain. Strike after strike is sent through me, and for what feels like the thousandth time, my body finally moves, but not in the way I thought it would. A faint tug of pain lances through my brain, eliciting a startled gasp or growl from me. They keep coming, racking my body more frequently as I float or stand aimlessly around in nowhere.

Sensations slowly return to my body, first smell, then touch and orientation of where I am. I can feel a gentle wind blowing against my body but it feels much larger than normal with extra appendages. The scent of dirt hits my nostrils and I can tell I am lying down somewhere in a field. My breathing comes back to me, low and steady as if coming out of a deep sleep. The world around me gradually disappears as the distant force that was calling me away now pulls me back in what feels like the direction of earth, of life. Even in this place, it has been too long since I have seen another person, felt their touch or known what it was like to be alive.

My body feels like it is stretching, contorting in ways extremely uncomfortable to me. Another strike of electricity and another flash of pain render me still as whatever is happening accelerates. I become dizzy, disoriented and feel like throwing up as my soul speeds backwards, forcefully shoved back down. I have no idea what is happening, lost for thought and reason when I arch my back as something pierces me. It feels like my blood is pouring out of my body, racing away as I return to whatever destination this thing has in store for me. After a few minutes I feel whatever object that had pierced me anchor itself to my soul and my mind and thoughts become coherent again.

I still do not know what is happening and try to scream out, having a sensation like my body is being twisted and pulled faster than it can keep up. I think of a black hole, how everything that goes in stretches while nothing comes out. Light cannot escape; nothing is safe from its grasp. Something clicks within my body and I suddenly have control. I flail my limps and I get the feeling that I have wings and a tail. That is the least of my concern as I turn around, facing wherever I am being pulled towards. It looks just like a vortex, a black hole, but now I come to the conclusion it is like a portal, time travelling back into the future.

Just when I see something on the horizon, my world, vision and mind begins to fade again. I cannot stop it from happening; the feeling is like passing out though it is much worse. A circular sphere colored blue green and white comes closer to me every second but at the same time I am vanishing, my mind and soul being shoved back into a body I do not recognize. I try to stay conscious but it is a losing war, I have no control of what I can do anymore and the pain within my mind flares open, causing agonizing torture on me as I fall. Everything feels like how it did when I was dying, but instead in reverse. My heart rate jumps as blood is pushed back into my veins and my mind is revitalized before I disappear with a poof.

Modern Day June 12, 2017: Tuscaloosa Alabama

** ** Grass...I can definitely feel grass beneath me, though it is dimmed by a rough barrier between me and it. My breathing is slow and I can think as if I had never left earth, my lungs filling with air, expanding and contracting with ease while my heart pumps blood through my veins. The soothing scent of the wind and nature fills my nostrils as I try to wake up but a force still keeps me asleep. The next thing that comes to mind is extra weight, a lot of extra weight. I don't know if something happened while I was being pulled back down or if I am still floating around, waiting to go to heaven, or hell. I know that can't be it because I can hear the faint noise of cars and people talking in the distance.

I try to move, first my head and then my legs that are tucked against my body. I still feel like an immovable object is strapped onto me, preventing me from moving at all but allowing me to breathe. My mind is a little hazy but it gradually wears off. My body though, is sluggish, none responsive and very heavy from a few extra appendages. That thought keeps nagging me in the back of my mind, what happened? Did something go wrong? What am I? I can feel a new set of muscle along my neck, just behind my shoulders and stretching out behind me. It almost feels like I have a tail. I know that can't be right, it must just be my weariness from returning, a phantom feeling of exhaustion. The thought that troubles me the most is, why did I return to earth, to the land of the living?

I brush it off for now, more concerned with trying to open my eyes and standing up to see what is happening and what is on my body for myself so I can confirm my fears and suspicions. My efforts are futile as I slumber, mind awake and senses alert but not able to rise. I almost miss the quiet creek of a door before a high piercing scream filled with fear causes me to bare my teeth in an annoyed growl before my eyes automatically fly open and I raise my head up into the air supported by my neck. I breathe out heavily through my nostrils as if waking up from a nightmare, turning my head to the left to catch sight of a woman slamming the door behind her as she runs to pick up a phone.

My gaze is locked onto the house as I try to place where I have seen it before. The memory is fuzzy but I can't seem to grasp it right now. My heart beats steadily as I blink my eyes, readjusting to a new set of sights and smells. Colors seem brighter, more vivid as light colors are subdued while dark colors are highlighted. My sense of smell looks to be heightened as it seems I can practically taste food from a few miles away. This can't possibly be my body? I feel stronger yet at the same time I do not know how to move at all. How I lifted my head sort of came to me but everything else is like learning how to ride a bike or walk for the first time. My neck feels stretched out; elongated while my body feels packed with energy and untold potential.

A movement to my left makes me turn my head further to see what it is. On the ground, trailing a thick bulky body covered in scales is a long corded tail that occasionally flicks back and forth, sliding over the grass with ease. I can't seem to place it but I have a feeling in the back of my mind of something grating over grass. I know I am not moving any part of my body; I should not be able to feel anything past the point of my feet or back, yet, why does it feel so nice? I stare at it in a daze, trying to think of why a tail would be behind me and covered in scales while connected to a reptilian body that disappears from my vision to my left. It takes some time but my eyes widen and my breathing increases as I come to a conclusion.

The scales start to rattle as I begin to shake, making my fear worsen of what could have happened to me. I concentrate for a few seconds to try and stop the tail and it responds by resting on the grass, limp. I pull my head back, turning it to the left more to see a scaly body with two large wings settled on its back colored a deep ash blue with spots of green trailing down the webbing. My heart races as I panic while frantically trying to stand up but my body does not want to respond. The tail slaps the ground in heavy thuds in which I can definitely feel the sensation of grass against it.

I whip my head around, baring my teeth and closing my eyes as I strain forward, trying to move, to try and do anything. None of this feels right, this is not my body, this is not how I remember being on earth. A breeze blows by me again and my new body finally decides to cooperate with me. I lift up my right arm and move it forward before setting it down again, claws digging into the ground while pushing up with my hind legs to try and stand up. My hips sway as my tail rasps over the ground while I bring my left arm forward, opening my eyes with full concentration to bring all four legs beneath me. It takes some time but I slowly, unsteadily stand up.

I open my maw, breathing heavily while my tail sits on the ground complacently and my wings lay on my back with no idea on how to use them. My legs are splayed out evenly as I raise my head and ease my breathing, looking around to observe my surroundings. This sure looks like my town, my home. I wonder why I can't remember where I am exactly. Being dead for so long has left me scratching my head at what happened or what's going to happen. Whoever sent me back down better have a good reason for doing so, I do not want to go through the same thing I went through as a human.

As a human...That thought makes me pause as I close my maw and breathe through my nostrils, taking it into consideration to confirm what I am. I bring my right leg forward, my left hind leg following as my eyes go wide while I start to fall, my maw open in a silent roar. My mind automatically sends signals to my tail as it tries to correct the motion by moving to the right as a counterbalance but it is too late. I hit the ground with a growl and a loud thud. My right arm is beneath my chest with my right hind leg in the same position. My wings are unscathed for now but my right wing lies uncomfortably beneath me as well. I am not hurt, more so bruised and surprised by the mishap. I close my eyes and wait a few seconds for the nausea to disappear while breathing calmly.

When it does I gradually open my eyes, looking out to see more houses spanning to the horizon in front of me with the sun halfway up the sky. I lift my head and lean to the left, my tail moving in the opposite direction to help balance myself. I bring my right hind leg up further against my body and roll, pushing up as my mind tells my tail to provide a counterbalance. Once I am standing, I try to turn around again; bringing my right leg forward while my left hind leg follows but this time I keep in mind to move my tail in the opposite direction to steady myself. I then move my right hind leg forward and my left foreleg at the same time, using my tail to balance my weight while turning.

I raise my head more, looking at my back as I move my right foreleg forward once more. I slow my breathing, staring at the body behind me. My. Body. I do not want to accept that this is me, that I am a dragon. A mythical dragon. If I have to live again, I would rather choose to live as a human than a dragon. If anyone sees me as this than...Shoot, someone already did._I give a small growl of annoyance at that thought, snorting when I think of what could happen. _I just hope they don't do anything about it. But now that I am a dragon, I should at least see what I look like; no doubt I will have to live alone somewhere in the mountains, avoiding human contact.

As I move my head back and forth, taking in the sights of what I am, a distant set of sirens erupt in the city, screaming to the location I am at. I am oblivious to this as I check out my body. My tail swishes idly from side to side, skimming the grass, the feeling oddly pleasant in the setting I am in. I look at my wings again, lying snug on my back. The rest of my body follows the general coloration of my wings, a deep blue beginning at the tip of my tail, headed with a few sharp curved spikes for a club. It travels up my back, down my hind legs and between my haunches where it turns into ash blue and then a faint green where it mixes together. My flanks are a perfect combination of lighter blue and deep sea green coupled with strong scales to protect me. Beyond my wings up to my neck it changes between royal blue and forest green.

While I observe myself, flicking my tail occasionally to see how much dexterity it has, walking in a circle to try and see the horns on my head and the spikes trailing up my back, the sirens come closer. A pair of ears on the back of my head swivel instinctively to catch the sound, causing me to pause in my ruminations on myself to lift my head curiously to the sky. I sniff a few times, scenting nothing but dirt, burgers, pizza and trash as well as a bunch of other things. My irises narrow as I tense up, my whole body going rigid as I stare past the house I am behind, hoping that the police are not coming to where I am.

I do not move for minutes, my breathing shallow and my reaction down to a hairpin trigger. They move away and I finally relax, my irises going back to normal while lowering my head and ears as they brush up against my horns. I pause, tilting my head to look back while trying to move my ears again. They twitch, touching my horns so I know that I do have them before I let them fall onto the side of my head. I go back to inspecting myself, turning around some more so that I am facing the small forest behind the house with my back to it. I raise my right foreleg, marveling at the small scales running down my leg that lead to my claws. I wiggle my fingers, or paws I should say, watching in fascination as the muscle moves, bulging and contracting with each signaling I send to my paw.

I place it down and watch the individual claws spreading out to support my weight, picking up my left foreleg to do the same. I lean forward, making sure to balance my weight with my tail before sniffing my paw and licking it once, the texture rough and abrasive. I smell nothing on me but just from that whiff I could scent many different smells or more like tastes to me as I can practically feel them on my tongue. I clench my paw, watching my bicep expand and contract, relaxing when I unclench it. My claws do not pierce my scales as I am careful on not making a full fist. I then bring it to my chest, moving it down in a raking motion but my claws just glide across my scales. From what I remember from reading books on dragons, their chest scales are the most heavily armored part of their body followed by their legs and flanks.

I soon become immersed in looking at every little detail on myself, the pattern of my scales, and the color on my body. I even stick out my tongue which does not split like a snake's, lapping at my snout but close it too soon, causing me to slink to my stomach to hold my muzzle as the pain died. That does not deter me from continuing exploring what I have become. I have five paws on my forelegs and five paws on my hind legs, each able to move to a certain degree with my big toe regressed up my heel and my fore-thumb not as useful as before. I turn around to look at my wings and the claws on a fifth opposable thumb, wondering why I could not move them still. They sure look like they can hold my weight as my tail would act like a rudder to guide me through the air gracefully. My gaze, however, is snapped away from my wings as I see the door open to the house and two men emerge with guns.

~~~~~~~~~~

Four years. It had been four years since my son had died in his bed, and I could do nothing to stop it. I gave him all the love I had, all the support he could have wanted as I watched him grow weak as the months past. His fascination for bugs and wildlife was unending, and so I brought it to him. Bugs, caterpillars, ants, even tree bark, I decorated his room with it. Seeing him smile brightened my day, but how long would it last? I grew fearful when we visited the hospital, what mother wouldn't be when your child came down with an incurable disease?

I prayed for him every day, telling him jokes, watching movies together, or just talking for the hell of it. I know it pained him to speak by the time he was confined to his bed, but I did not give up hope. I did all I could for him, but sometimes I just had to cry. Is it too much of a burden to do this all alone? My husband, his father had passed away when he was four, thinking about that just makes it harder to deal with.

The neighbors felt sympathetic for me as I grieved for the loss of my son. The town all grew up to know him as the adventurous kid, even the police for his fiascos that the trouble makers often led him to. I never stopped loving him. Every day, every night I prayed, I could see it on his face he did not want me to worry, but I could not help it. Those last few days were just as hard on me as it was on him.

He had stopped eating a couple days ago, only kept going with the IV's, so I knew his time was coming close, yet, I did not want to accept it. He looked so helpless, so fragile that one touch from me would cause him crumbling into dust. When he whispered to me, saying farewell, I could not take it anymore. I pleaded, shouted to god to save him, to not take him away. Every day after that was spent alone, in a house, with no kids, no husband, and no friends. Eventually I was roused from my depression enough to take on what should have been a normal life by a friend of my husbands. Without her, I would have perished as well, but I would have gotten to see my son at least.

Even after this long, I think about him, wondering what could have been different, if there 'was' anything that could have been done to save him. But that is in the past, what I need to do right now is live on, though I do not know why I do so. As the day crept by slowly, I had started to harbor a feeling that I was supposed to go to the backyard. I did not know why I needed to do that, but it soon got to the point where I was jittery and could not sit still.

So at around nine O'clock I went to the back door and opened it, but what I found astonished me. Fear gripped my soul as I screamed, racing back inside to grab the telephone to call the police. Wait...What could the police do? Against a...a dragon? I dialed anyway, hoping they would feel compassion or something to come and see what was bothering me.

They did not believe me, not at first. They laughed when I said I had a dragon outside my house in my backyard. Then I started crying and Marvin, a police officer who had dealt with my son on numerous occasions came on the phone. He told me to calm down and tell him exactly what I saw, so I told him in every bit of detail I could from the brief glimpse I had. A large dragon, big wings, a tail, horns, ears, and the majority of his body was a deep blue/green color with variations.

Marvin said he would come over with two other officers to see if the dragon I described was in my backyard. I did not know if he did it out of empathy for my son, or if he wanted to see if there 'was' a dragon in my backyard. Well, his colleagues sure found out as they went outside to investigate while he talked to me more over the issue. I would say he was startled when his companion told him it was real, and it was looking their way.

~~~~~~~~~~

I freeze, body going completely rigid as my irises narrow again so I can catch every little detail around me. My tail stills without me even thinking about it, my fear rising as they also stop upon seeing me, one of them shouting inside the house to someone else but quickly reasserts their sights on me. They raise their guns, two desert eagles aimed at me in various positions on my body. I can tell they do not know what to do, having never seen a live dragon before. The standoff drags out as I can hear two faint voices within the house, one male, the other female. She does not seem to be in trouble, only telling the officer what happened; even I don't know what I am doing here or why.

Even at this distance, I seem to be bigger than the police officers pointing their guns at me. If I were to guess, they would only reach up to just above my shoulders, but I can't seriously think about that now when they could kill me with a well placed shot. Should they hit, then it would still be painful as I have no doubt my scales would protect me but the force of the bullet would bruise the skin underneath, leaving me sore for a few days. My mind becomes blank as I lose all conscious thought, primitive instincts coming forth in a fight or flight response. My already heightened senses seem to zone in on the two officers and a proposed one still in the house. I smell nothing other than who stands before me, hearing nothing else other than their fear tinted breathing and the sweat rolling down their skin.

A woman suddenly emerges from the doorway, startling the two officers, one never taking his eyes off me but his breathing increases with a twitch of his head as the other turns to usher her back into the house. She clings to the frame, hair disheveled and eyes filled with tears as she looks at me, no, stares at me. I move my right foreleg forward to get into a comfortable position so I can lung or escape at a moment's notice. The officer that still has his eyes on me jumps; shouting to his comrade as he points the gun near my right paw and fires. The bullet just misses me, scattering the dirt and grass as I flinch at the sound, a deep growl emanating from within my chest while I bare my teeth and pull my paw back.

The woman shivers as the echo of the gun vanishes, continuing to watch as the second officer calls for the third one in the house for support. I turn my head from the hole in the ground to the three men standing at the door frame. Two of them are in front on the step down with pistols in their hands while the third one has a large caliber rifle in his hands that can most likely pierce my scales in certain places. I lower my head, moving forward while turning myself around as I growl to face them, all my focus on the three officers in front of me. They raise their weapons in readiness, prepared to fire if I come any closer. The woman behind them just looks at me, tears accumulating on her face as she whispers one word.

"D-Damien?" I stop as she speaks, growl fading while the second officer with the pistol looks back at her and says something. I pay no attention as that name sparks a memory within my mind which gradually expands. I relax my muzzle as my eyes widen, remembering a flicker of something, of someone who was next to me as I died. I still can't quite remember why this house looks so familiar, but a picture of a woman starts to come into focus the more I concentrate.

I am too stunned to move, my tail flicking back and forth low to the ground while I breathe slowly. The officers seem to be thankful I do not attack, but still do not lower their guard against me. I open my maw, trying to speak, to communicate back but the officers take that as an aggressive movement and start to shout at me, urging the woman back inside. Before she disappears, I struggle to say a response.

Mother...? Except, what comes out of my maw is not words but a series of barks and growls. The officers react with no hesitation as the ones with the pistols fire directly at me, jerking me out of my day dream. Those instincts that had receded at the sound of the name come back quicker. I pad backwards in a roar, hind leg muscles bunching up while cringing as two bullets ricochet off my chest scales, one near my right shoulder and the other just below the swell of my chest to bury itself into the ground near my left foreleg while I turn to my right to flee like a wolf in fright.

The pain surprises me but it is ignored as adrenaline soon spears through my body, dampening the sounds of the surrounding world as I turn to escape, twisting my body on my hind legs to face away from the house. My wings spread out as I prepare for flight without my knowledge. More shots come and hit me, some missing but mere inches while others just scrape against my scales. I suppress a growl as I can feel them bounce off, a few of them lodging themselves in my hind legs just below the skin where my scales are thin and not as strong. No sooner had I reversed direction than I began to gallop, spreading my wings out to their full extent while flapping them. I ignore the pain; I ignore everything else as my instincts tell me to run, controlling my wings for me as the wind gathers under my sails.

I do not look back as the officer's pause to reload, the third one taking his time to aim at me as I lift off the ground. I stare straight ahead, holding my legs close to my body as I stumble a bit before rising further into the air. My breathing increases as I try to fly away, to find a place away from humanity where I can live in peace without being bothered, all because I got changed into a dragon to live another life on earth. Why me? Why do I get to live again as a monster? As something humans fear and will extinguish at any chance they get?

My wings work frantically without my knowledge, pumping the air out from underneath me to gain altitude and speed while gradually distancing myself from the house and the three officers. Alas, it was not meant to be, for as I look back, rising over the trees to see how far I am away, the third officer fires his gun while the other two watch. One bullet scraps just above my head, nicking below my left horn as I growl and turn away to focus on flying. He does not stop, firing again and again as more bullets wiz past me, some tearing shallow wounds in my hind legs and flanks while others create holes in my wings.

I roar out in pain, feral instincts taking full control, leaving me behind for the ride as it pumps my wings faster to get more distance between us. The officer with the rifle fires again and this time hits me directly. The bullet goes beneath my tail and underbelly to wedge itself inside the back of my right bicep near the bone at the time of an upstroke where my right foreleg was lowered from my body. I roar out loudly in pain, faltering in the air, consequently dropping some altitude before spreading my wings to glide with half a dozen holes in them and blood seeping out of numerous wounds. I close my eyes and clench my teeth, fighting past the pain to keep on flying away from the city.

At least I hear no more sounds of gunshots, but by now a good majority of the neighborhood should be out looking around confused. Not wanting to get spotted, I tilt straight up, heading towards the clouds so I appear as only a bird or small plane. A steady stream of blood exits the large gash on my right forelegs bicep, tumbling down to the ground below as I rise higher in the air. I open my maw to breathe heavily, still not in control of my body, but nevertheless urging myself on to escape, to hide, to get away as fast as I can while the holes in my wings force me to move my wings faster to gain enough lift.

When I fly into a cloud I level off, dropping down to skim the bottom of the surface as I spread my wings out in a glide. I get control of my body again as the instincts retreat, beaten back by the intensity of the pain coursing through my body. Every down stroke covers my mind in pain, causing me to growl whether I want to or not. I can feel my blood seeping out of the wound, dribbling down my leg to arrive at my claws before falling away. No matter what I do, the bullet that is lodged next to the bone moves around, jarred by my erratic flying. I do not know where I am going; instead I pick a direction and fly for as far and as long as I can. I do not think of how to fly, only let it happen, trusting instinct to get me far away from civilizations.

It never goes away; it never stops, always causing agony as I fly over a large city. Day had turned into afternoon by now, the sun starting its decent towards the horizon. I continue on, never stopping for fear of getting injured further, my mind desperately trying to block out the pain caused by the bullet. Is this how I am supposed to die again? So soon after getting turned into a dragon for someone's entertainment? No. I will not have it. Even if I have earned my right to die and go to heaven, I will not let this kill me. I will not go down like this. If I have to pull it out of me somehow, I will live as a dragon for however long I can.

Exhaustion tears at me, thirst shouts my name and hunger gnaws at my stomach as I fly into the night, not stopping for any ounce of rest. My right foreleg throbs in agony to the beat of my heart, never letting go. I had lowered it some time ago from holding it against my chest to minimize the pain, but all it seems to do is remind me of the disease I had. Every second, every minute, every hour I continue to fly, the pain feels just like when I had the disease when I was a human. It feels different, but the effects are still the same; it drudges up hazy memories, long forgotten from my time floating around doing nothing.

Friends...Fun...Nature... Being a dragon sure reminds me of my infatuation for bugs and creepy crawlies. My breathing is heavily labored as my lungs try to retain enough air to keep me going, opening my maw to aid in the process. My eyelids droop as I grow tired while my wings start to falter and fold against my back under the strain. I do not look around to take in the sights, the sounds and smells of the world around me, instead looking straight forward in a single goal to escape. I can see a large forest in the distance beyond a meandering lake in front of me. The sight reinvigorates my body as I open my eyes and unconsciously flap my wings to gain some altitude.

So far no one has spotted me, even if I have flown lower as the sun has set upon the day. My whole body burns, yearning to land and curl up to sleep. Well, that part may be a bit of a hassle because of my injured foreleg, but I will think of that when I come to it. For now, I just have to focus, to concentrate on flying straight and not dropping out of the sky from exhaustion. The bullet wound has stopped bleeding at least, the blood clotting around the entrance to where it entered. My right foreleg feels numb, only my will to continue lets me ignore the pain for the most part. It has dulled down, but is in no means gone, always in the back of my mind. If I move to quickly or fall suddenly, I get reminded by a flare of pain, making me growl in disdain as the wound cracks open.

I push myself harder, midnight having passed whenever as I have no sense of time. My wings are killing me as I fly over a large forest, froth beginning to form at the corners of my maw from pure exhaustion. I cannot see where the tree line begins even with my enhanced draconic sight. I have to rely on my hearing and smell to guide me to a place to land, if only I can find someplace devoid of trees. It seems like another few hours pass before I see a glint in the ground shining against the moonlight for what must be water. With the cloud filled sky, I am surprised by my discovery and stop pumping my wings to glide for the rest.

I think I may have overshot that lake when I zoned out awhile ago. Having flown for one straight day is not good for me at all, considering I have had nothing to drink, I am starving and I have never flown as a dragon before. I do not know how it works or how to control my wings even now; I just let my instincts control that part of my body as I dip down to land on the ground somewhere. Every muscle in my body is screaming at me for rest even when I find a small clearing to land in. I know it can't end well because of my leg injury but at least I can try. No doubt it is going to cause me a whole world of pain but I have endured an incurable disease as a human, I am sure I can survive a brutal shock when I land.

The ground is coming up quick as I lean backwards, grunting as the bullet moves inside my leg again. I pray that I will be able to land this half decently and not have the bullet gouge out my flesh on impact. The last thing I want is to die a slow death as a dragon, not that I haven't done that already. I narrow my eyes in preparation, splaying out my hind legs while ignoring the stabs of pain from the inconsequential wounds and gashes along my flanks and hind legs. I lift my chest up, flaring my wings to bleed off speed to land nice and softly on the ground. The holes in my wings only complicate my problem as I come in a little too fast for my liking, the wind howling past them threatening to tear the wounds wider.

Everything goes perfectly until I lower my right foreleg to touch the ground. Once my hind legs are planted on the ground, my left hind leg behind my right, I keep my wings spread while dropping onto my front forelegs in a trot. A distinct crack of bone is heard and felt when I land too heavily on my right foreleg. I roar out in pain into the night, wings giving out as I tilt my body to land on my left side. The gash the bullet made reopens, causing fresh blood to spill free onto the fresh forest grass, staining it red.

I fall onto the ground with a loud thud while gouging out a path in the ground for a few feet, left wing trapped beneath me as I bring my hind legs up as well as my tail to try and curl up. The pain assaults my mind endlessly, leaving a stream of tears falling onto my muzzle as I close my eyes, whimpering and shaking in fear. The blood from the bullet wound pools onto my wing, gushing out more each time my heart beats. It feels like a prick to the finger when at the doctor's office, but this is much much worse. I bare my teeth, growling and hiccupping, crying myself to sleep while my right foreleg lies limp beside me. My whole body is sore and aching, glad for the break in flying. My mind is in shambles as my other various wounds slowly leak blood, spilling my life onto the ground.

I lay on the ground, waiting to either die or for someone to come and find me, to call the police or military so they can finish me off. My world fades as the pain becomes too much and I fall unconscious somewhere in a large forest with wildlife that could easily finish me off in my weakened state. My breathing eventually stabilizes with my maw open partially and my wounds stop bleeding again, leaving me to drift aimlessly around in my own mind, waiting for something to happen. Am I to die alone this time? A beast? A monster?