Pitty not those lost in the Dragon's cave.

They came clad in gleaming steel armor, scratched from climbing the mountain to the mouth of my cave. There were a hundred soldiers, men bent upon the razing of my flesh and the theft of my gold.

"Beast! Your life has since ended, and here your soul rots among your gold and jewels, stolen from our people a thousand years past! Today we avenge the deaths of our kin!" Said a particularly gallant one, hefting his sword left and right in both hands, eyes blazing with hate. He rent a deep gash in my stomach, which bled like a waterfall. I smote him on the side of the cave with a claw, and flew up through the top of the mountain, to spew fire on the wretched thieves, the murderers, the men... Dozens fell before me, but they took all of my treasure, my hard earned treasure, destroying my nest, my eggs... none survived. And there was nothing I could do. Again and again I blew fire untill my fangs burned with such intensity that I dare not breath again. Still they came, spears sailing up at me. One connected with my eye, and I was blind. Their arrows soared past me, many piercing my stomach. I watched as they destroyed the last of my eggs, using their torches to burn the unborn dragonlings. I flew away weakly, defeated.

I fled the mountain bristling with arrows, one in my neck, and several in my underbelly. A spear hit my eye, putting it out permanently. By now the shock has worn off and the pain is registering. I howl in agony, as the fire within me dies down, dimming to a faint glow. i must rest I thought. And so I did.

The next day I was in throbbing pain. O would not have slept, if it weren't for my weakness. One of my feet had a bolt in it I hadn't noticed earlier, and in my sleep I pushed it in further, so I can not use it to walk. I cannot hunt. I cannot move, and my wounds still bleed. Everything burns. And yet, nothing is bright. I can hardly see. I lay here for days, the agony ebbing at my strength. I struggle against the grass, the tall trees that loom over me, as if to say, Shall I end it's misery? I marvel at life itself, the rabbits that pass fearlessly past me, and I am too slow to catch them. And I am cold, a feeling I have never known. I listen to the chirp of the birds, blissful as they be in their trees, their uninvaded nests... I hear the babbling of water nearby. Water? Water! I may make it yet. I limp off to what reveals itself to be a brook, emptying into a clear pool. I gaze upon it lovingly, but to my horror I see myself, broken and battered as I am. My eye has swolen shut, blood still oozing from it's crevice. My stomach, I look down to see, also lays wide and infected, burning with the effort of drawing breath. Blood drips still from my wounds. I drink from the pool, and the water is so sweet, so cool... I am briefly refreshed, but am now colder than ever. I lay in wait, hoping that the dull brown of my scales will camoflage me against prey, or at this point, predators. Deers pass by, but I am too slow to catch them. I manage to catch one, but since that, none have passed by here, and the effort of catching her has drained my greatly. My inner fire grows ever dimmer, and the cold creeps in. At times, I have spells of nausea, and light headedness. I can scarsely breathe without the assault of pain on my diaphram. I lay silent and still, awaiting my fate. I have given up. My treasure is taken, my line brutally ended. I am no longer alive, so why not die? I lay down and close my eye against the pain. Soon, the dim glow of my inner flame dwindles to nothing, and with one last puff of smoke, my body forever lay still. May the forest reclaim me, I think. Let my bones turn to dust here where I lay, so that the earth may remember my sorrow.