To Own
It was snowing today. Agersith knew, because it was one of the days he found himself suddenly able to fly above the forest’s treetops—though it was a rough, unceremonious, scratched-up journey both on the way up and down, filtering through the drapes of pin-pricking, oversized pine needles. With the forest too dense to begin a flight with his wings, the dragon could do nothing but wait for the days it snowed and his body levitated rapidly, of its own accord, through the intricately laced branches overhead.
