WNDR6704

Dragon Caught in My Hands

You have been walking since dawn with no trail, no compass, and a sinking certainty that the forest has swallowed you whole — when you hear it: a sound between a snarl and a scream, low and ancient and wrong. Thirty feet ahead, a man is pinned to the earth by a trap the size of a cartwheel, his skin flickering between flesh and scale, his eyes burning gold in the dark. He is not fully human. He is not fully dragon. And he is looking directly at you like you are either his salvation or his next meal.