I hate being human. It feels so unnatural, not having wings. My mother swoops down into our home, a weeping willow, big enough to have four rooms. I walk inside and sit on an overhanging branch.
It's the early hours of the morning, mum's been hunting all night. Dragons don't need much sleep so I usually just practice my magic until sunrise.
Thats when I have to transform, the humans might see me. Sometimes I see an amber-eyed, golden-haired boy staring at me from behind a tree. He looks human, but looks can be deceiving.
I hope he's elven, or a werewolf, then I could get to know him more...