Dragon's breath
The dragon's breath came in puffs of humid wisps and smoke rings. There it stayed warm, frosted against the cold window ever so briefly and fell in droplets splattering on the old worn deck.
The majestic oak stood, his mane drenched in dragon sweat and condensed breath. The acrid fumes of the battling dragons drenched the earth beneath and soaked into his immobile feet. He stayed up, his gaze grazing the moving scaly tail, avoiding it with a backward arch of his trunk. While lesser oaks swayed with every puff of air from those flaring nostrils, majestic oak stayed guard, stern eyes blazing in the moonlight. It simply was not in his nature to quail or swoon, so instead he shook his head to dry his long mane, to rid it of the dragon's breath and moisture streaking the air. Yet the night crawled by in minutes , or was it centuries...
The majestic oak stood, a lone sentry to mark time as the moon came up behind, her silken veil trailing by her side. She , always a shrouded mystery, not coy, just her gaze averted , to avoid the confrontation... of the titans of the air and water...
Her magic pulled and stirred, her gaze held in their depths the powers unknown.
As the battle raged , the majestic oak stood rooted, shocked , yet stayed silent seeing it all , mute before the dragon's brawl ,their brute force and the lunar gaze that fluttered and danced deep inside like singing tides that lapped at his feet.
(legend has it that storms come when dragons fight and wrestle) help those in need now, go to redcross.org
The dragon's breath came in puffs of humid wisps and smoke rings. There it stayed warm, frosted against the cold window ever so briefly and fell in droplets splattering on the old worn deck.
The majestic oak stood, his mane drenched in dragon sweat and condensed breath. The acrid fumes of the battling dragons drenched the earth beneath and soaked into his immobile feet. He stayed up, his gaze grazing the moving scaly tail, avoiding it with a backward arch of his trunk. While lesser oaks swayed with every puff of air from those flaring nostrils, majestic oak stayed guard, stern eyes blazing in the moonlight. It simply was not in his nature to quail or swoon, so instead he shook his head to dry his long mane, to rid it of the dragon's breath and moisture streaking the air. Yet the night crawled by in minutes , or was it centuries...
The majestic oak stood, a lone sentry to mark time as the moon came up behind, her silken veil trailing by her side. She , always a shrouded mystery, not coy, just her gaze averted , to avoid the confrontation... of the titans of the air and water...
Her magic pulled and stirred, her gaze held in their depths the powers unknown.
As the battle raged , the majestic oak stood rooted, shocked , yet stayed silent seeing it all , mute before the dragon's brawl ,their brute force and the lunar gaze that fluttered and danced deep inside like singing tides that lapped at his feet.
(legend has it that storms come when dragons fight and wrestle) help those in need now, go to redcross.org
