The thrill of the hunt invigorated me. I moved with stealth, haunting the upper reaches of the mountains peaks where only the nimblest of prey chose to roam. The sun had sunk low on the horizon, casting long shadows that I could easily hide in, my slow movements bringing me closer and closer to the animal I had chosen for my meal. For a couple of days now I had been stalking the small herd of goats, watching them for signs of weakness, smelling for disease or worms. Amongst the does was one that almost always moved at the center of the group. Her movement was not unusual, in fact she appeared entirely healthy, but she smelled of aching joints and age. Mahogany eyes narrowed as the does moved onto a small, flat plain. And then I charged. Rushing towards the group, I snapped my jaws at hocks and flying hooves, and suddenly they were bounding away, the flock splitting into two groups. I kept after the one that contained my chosen prey, and with a feigned lunge they split again. This time there was only one doe to keep the weaker one company, and she soon leapt away to safety. My heart raced, and my legs stretched out, covering the distance to close the gap between us. Exhilaration pumped through my body, delighted at finding my muscles engaging without protest as they would have mere weeks ago. I was finally whole again, completely recovered from the birth of my litter.

I sprang, jaws wide and snapping out at her hindquarter, forepaws gripping over her back as my teeth sunk into her haunch. There was a shrill bleat, a panicked sound from the creature, before we toppled to the ground together, my weight overwhelming her. She kicked out as me as we hit the ground, but in such close quarters her hooves beat against my chest with no more force than that which Drogon would exert in rough play. I tore back on her flesh, debilitating the limb before I released and rushed to my paws. She struggled, trying to rise to three legs, adrenaline and the will to survive pushing her on. But I flashed forward and grabbed her throat, pulling her back to the ground and opening her neck to bleed freely. Crimson soaked the earth, as well as my face and chest, as I held my grasp until she stopped struggling and the life went from her eyes. Finally I released her, stepping back and looking her over. There was a fair bit of meat on her, despite her age, and I would be able to gorge myself and still have plenty of meat to bring back to feed Jericho, and myself once more after I had given of my first meal to my pups.

Burying my face in her abdomen, I ripped into the tender flesh, devouring those tasty morsels within. Gluttony overwhelmed me, and I consumed the goat as if it were my first meal after a long fast. When my belly swelled with meat and I felt the tiredness of the hunt set in, I nearly laid down beside the goat and slept. But I remembered my little hungry dragons, and stood. I pulled a single paw across my face, wiping away some of the gore, but realizing I would need to visit the stream near my den to completely cleanse myself. For the time being it made little difference to me. Turning to the carcass, I grabbed at a hind leg, rending meat from bone and taking the entire haunch and leg in my mouth to bring back to Jericho. For so long he had fed me; it was time I returned the favor.

Steadily I jogged down the familiar paths of my home, the limb growing somewhat heavy in my mouth, but I carried on. Darkness had fallen by the time I reached the clearing that led to the den, and as I moved out of the trees my ears pulled forward and I stopped in my tracks. Something seemed wrong, though I could hardly pinpoint what. My nostrils flared, and I set the meal down. As I lifted my head, Jericho’s voice echoed from within the den. Immediately my tail flung into the air, alarmed by the panic in his voice. When he called my name again, such dread filling his voice, I took off, sprinting across the clearing and dashing into the moonlit den.

He was shaking, and I went to him, not understanding the fear in his eyes. I did not hesitate, my step never faltering as I entered the den and pressed my chest to his, just like that day when we had first met. Forgetting the blood that marred my coat, I wrapped my neck around his, offering him comfort, though I had no idea what from. “Jericho,” I whispered in his ear. “What is it?” I pulled my head back then, mahogany eyes seeking those of orange, needing to know what troubled him so.