A forest dragon perches in the treetops. Scales shaped like leaves quiver in the wind as their hue shifts to match the surrounding autumn palette. The dragon gazes down at its quarry, then lifts its scales to emit a barely visible mist—the scent of fallen leaves and river mud masking its natural musk—when one of the deer grazing at the riverbank lifts its head to stare into the forest, nostrils flaring. When the deer lowers its head once again, the tree snaps near in half as the dragon launches itself with impossible speed. One deer is crushed into the mud by its talons, moss-green teeth tear into the throat of another, and the leaf-blade tail swings around to cut the legs out from under the third. The dragon will dine well tonight.
~ Aaron Mizell