Nyxmel crept along through the scrubby underbrush of the forest cautiously. He was painfully aware of the crackling of twigs, the clanking of his sword agains provisions, and all the other sounds he inevitably made while "sneaking" along. It was no use, everything was just too crowded. A dragon was used to more open-ness, less weaving. At least he was. Mum had always said the forest was her favorite place to go... Mum...

The black dragon cast his emerald eyes to the sky in a silent prayer that he may please her spirit. If it weren't for her, he wouldn't be in this wretched area. This terrifying area. The fear hit him in the stomach again, cold and slithery like a chilled snake. He was in human territory now. The smell of the legendary beasts swam in his active nostrils, the scent of leather and sweat, among other less pleasant things. He glanced around fearfully, but forced a poker face back on. He was a dragon, one of the mightiest of races... But could he stand up to these beings? Only lore spoke of them, tiny, pale, but banded together in huge clans. They wielded enchanted weapons designed for the slaughter of dragonkind, just for their bodies and nothing else. For survival was one thing, but they did this for wealth and sport. Nyxmel growled deep in his chest despite his best efforts to be silent at the indignity. The Great Race forced to the edge of extinction...

A noise far off caught his attention and yanked him from his thoughts. Crackling, breaking. Smoke tinged the air from wherever the source was. Fire, something wooden burning. His heart soared. Finally, a lead! He had been travelling for days upon weeks trying to find some sign. This was it. Mum had said, "The fire come not from dragons," and this smoke had nowhere near the scent of dragon fire. His slitted pupils narrowed in caution as he approached the source slowly through the trees. Who knew what was there... Humans, perhaps, looking to ambush him...

'Quit acting like a hatchling, Nyx!!' he scolded in his own mind. 'You're a bloody dragon, for stars' sake!! The Great Race!! Your mission is to save them. Only you. For... For Mum.'

Courage filled the gap of fear. He walked more confidently, chest puffed and every sense on alert. The trees began to taper off until he could see where the fire and smoke had originated from. There it was, piles of timber and flaming ash. Just like Mum had said. He approached cautiously while sniffing the air discretely for any signs of humans... The area reeked of it. They lived here, there would be no way for him to distinguish live from dead, old from recent.

However, motion was always a sign of life. There, before him and a bit to the left, was what he assumed to be a human. It had long brown... stringy scales that issued from its head and odd proportions. It looked frail, but he knew better than to mistake it as anything but what it was: a killer. It was the only living thing in this area. Fury began to rise in him, unbearable rage for what this race had done to his, and what this individual had done to a town. The anger took control, and without any will of his own he roared a challenge to the human in the road. The sound was deafening and terrifying. How'd it like to see a creature of their own legend standing and fighting on its own?

The fury bubbled deep in Nyxmel's chest as he stared at the pitiful being. When he roared, the human rolled to all fours, but the awkwardness of the position meant that they were obviously bipedal. The creature's brown eyes widened in fear, well as they should. Pride began to push out the fury, but he was determined to deal with this murderer. Even if humans were the bane of the dragons' existance, mass homicide was never an option. His mother had taught him to respect all life, and only to take it when necessary.

The thing put up a "hand" then. Instinctively, Nyxmel tensed to take a step backwards. What was it doing? Was it going to use magic? Shoot out hidden blades? Instead, it spoke in a soft voice laden with fear, "S...suh...suh...steady... Steady there. Look...uh..look. I'm... I'm not even... even from the village," said the pale creature as it slowly began to back away from him. The anger drained from his chest as he stared at the fragile-looking thing moving away. He could understand it! Nyxmel had always figured that the centuries old texts from back home would never have held up the language, but he had learned it anyway, seeing as how the history of the Life War was so intriguing. It was... scared. But why did she reiterate what he already knew? Obviously she wasn't from the village, or she wouldn't have reason to burn it down.

"I... I don't know what they did to make... you know... make you angry. But, look. I'm not one of them and I'm sure whatever they did... you know... you... you were justified in being angry."

He understood then. His tail drooped and his mouth hung slightly agape. All anger left him. How could this one human have burned down an entire village without a band? Didn't they travel in clans, or packs, or flocks or something? Guilt gnawed at his heart for leaping to a conclusion too quickly. It thought that he was the one who had done this. Nyxmel cast a glance about at the heaps of smoldering rubble. His mind fought back to his lessons, the awkward tongue rolls and nasal usage. Human speech was cool to learn, but Draconic was much easier. "Y... You think I did this?" The words came in a baritone with a thick accent, something of a mixture between Russian and British. Every k had an h at the end, and the vowels were very odd, along with other differences from regular speech. "Why would I do this? I came here to look for something of my mother's, not to kill... I thought..." he paused as he hid his eyes under the ivory faceplate's shadows, "I thought it had been you..."

He looked back up at her and approached slowly. "I mean you no harm." Slowly, he reached onto his back, snagged the leather bag rolled over his shoulders, and dropped it to the ground.

Her discomfort saddened him, yet he was satisfied that she was frightened. The conflicting emotions warred within him as he decided how much to tell the girl. Her backwards odyssey didn't go unnoticed. He moved forwards slowly, slowly. Each movement was exaggerated to show he meant no harm, each claw turned palm up to show he was unarmed. "I'm searching for something my Mo-- ... I'm searching for something on a hunch." He winced at his near blunder. He still didn't know how dangerous this thing was even without its horde. It could be bluffing for all he knew.

However, it seemed sincere, either through honor or terror, when it asked if it could help him. Skepticism was a skill taught to him through a hard hatchlinghood no matter how rude. He knew it would prove invaluable in this quest, though...

He had no other leads. The fire was told to lead him to truth.

He sighed and shut his emerald eyes, tail drooped with grief. "I'm here looking for something my Mother sent me to find," he confided softly, "She came all the way from the Spirit World in a dream. The "Scroll of Creation." I won't tell you what for, or why, because I do not yet know myself. However, this was the first and last thing she told me. 'Find the fire to seek the truth.'" Grief-ridden tears sparkled behind the ivory faceplate before he quickly swiped at them in fury. He was weak before the creature, it would be able to tell and strike him down. Nyxmel replaced his stern countenance and waited for the human's move.

(Confound it all, I lost five paragraphs of good stuff)
Her discomfort filled him with guilt. Nyxmel hated to hurt anyone or thing... even his race's mortal enemy. Her deliberation lasted a few seconds before she surprised him with an offer of comeradierie. Skepticism narrowed his slitted pupils as he angled his head to see her better with one eye while keeping the other trained on his bag. Her interest in it was apparent and dissettling.

She then made a huge blunder. "I believe you didn't do this. The damage is too... too... well, too amateur to have been done by someone like you."

Fury bubbled in the dragon's chest involuntarily. Instinctive rage led him to an aggressive crouch on his front claws, teeth bared and a snarl hissing through his maw. He cursed in a language that resembled a rich, animalistic German, beautiful and feral, before switching to English. "Someone like me?! What in the bowels of the mountains could you possibly even begin to think you know about me? I was raised to respect all life and to give respect to every living being unless directly threatened! You puny, pale rats were the ones who mindlessly slaughtered my race for our teeth and tongues, hatchlings, elders, eggs, all dead and brutalized for market!! We were forced to flee for our lives, the mighty dragons of lore degraded to migrants!!"

He then realized what he was doing. Smoke drifted from his nostrils as flame burned ready in his chest. The human stood before him, small and terrified. 'All life is important, even those who have reason to be punished. Respect all, love all, and remeber who you are.' His mother's last words before he was taken from her in the forest. A hurt hatchling, confused and hungry...

Nyxmel blinked a few times and stood to return to his bag. A glance to the sky showed him the time. "Sleep now. We shall move in the morning." He sat near his bundle and watched her with gleaming emerald eyes to await her slumber.