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THE FULL MOON

The scream is even louder now.

By this point it feels as if the wind is holding the scream like a knife and repeatedly stabbing my earholes with it.

And the pain is excruciating.

I tilt my scaly green head back and roar a roar so powerful and deafening that I swear you can feel the full moon shudder up in the sky and go dark for a millisecond before coming back on.

I snort firebolts out my nostrils.

Where is my Queen?

Then I flap my wings and take off, flying in the direction of the scream.

Thwack-thwack.