In a Blaze of Glory

[Drogon]

There are many strange things in this land, and many aspects of the place that I dislike. The abundance of well-armed humans, the monotonality of the ground and sky. The fact that my flames and claws cannot breach the stark whiteness that is the ground, that the land is impervious to my will. It seems there are no caves in which to make my dwelling, nor any other sort of landmark of any sort, save for a wide ring of stone arches and a number of tall or wide objects that I run across once, and then seem to encounter again, try as I might. Mother is also not here, but I lived long enough without her. That does not bother me.

None of this, however, is near so disconcerting as the lack of a sun, and weather. The flaming orb in the air which guides us, along with the winds and the stars, are either hidden or simply gone. It is a strange thing indeed.

I continue my aimless flight. I am beginning to suspect those disappearing landmarks are replacing one another... Based on my explorations as of yet, they all turn up in the same place. I can think of no rational explanation for this, as it seems no human or other force is actively switching them around.

The ring of arches seems to be a barrier of sorts. The edges of this realm, as it were. Never before has my roaming been so artificially hindered.

One of these arches is crawling with the nasty white-shelled ones. They make a point of letting me know I am not welcome. I make a point of letting them know I don't care, before deciding it isn't worth it for, as I now know, those shells do indeed get stuck between my teeth. And taste nasty, to boot.

I lumber off to a spot far from any arch, but still near the artificial border, before taking a short rest. It would seem that flight in this place is more tiring than at home, if only for the lack of air currents in any capacity.

I am awoken by the worried cry of another human in a dress, this one larger than my last good meal. It is pointing at me, and a small crowd of the creatures has gathered in a semicircle around me. I groggily lift my head before realizing the source of the commotion and snapping into full consciousness. Another small one, probably its offspring, has decided I am its plaything and taken a perch atop my neck. It laughs, oblivious to the screams of its parent, and to my outrage.

I flick my head upwards, letting a terrible screech, even to my hardy ears, fill the air. The small one flies high into the disorienting sky, and I must suppress my instincts to leap up and catch it in my mouth; I still require more rest, and it is hard to sleep after a meal. It falls to the ground in front of me, broken and tangled. It tries to move, for a moment, before realizing its imminent death is inevitable and sparing itself the pain.

The crowd disperses in fear. They leave the small one to die. I burn it, for it I do not, it shall reek terribly upon my awakening.

I return to my slumber.