With the succulent fallow deer now sizzling on the barbecue, my makeshift hideout proves to be an ideal sanctuary. The scent of roasted meat mingles with the comforting warmth of the embers, lulling me into a sense of security.
But then, I hear it—an almost imperceptible voice, faint and teetering on the brink of death, whispering, "Help." Unable to ignore the plea, I reluctantly leave the embrace of the furnace's heat to investigate.
Sniffing the air and listening closely, my reptilian senses discern a trail leading me toward the source of the plea. The unfamiliar language resonates with me, and through the foreign tongue, I discern the direction. It dawns on me that this is the very area that had been a battleground the previous night. A scene of desolation unfolds before my eyes: scorched grass, trees resembling microwave-baked specimens, and the ominous death of nearby vegetation, as if an invisible vampire had drained it dry. It's a grim tableau, and the evidence of last night's events is dangerously conspicuous.
I realize that I must exercise caution and restraint with my lightning powers to avoid attracting unwanted attention. Emulating the ways of wolves, I must learn to rely on my claws and canines for sustenance, despite my inherent aversion to hunting.
In another era, this life might be akin to an all-inclusive hotel, with food readily available at every turn. However, the times have changed, and I'm now confronted with ethical dilemmas.
My ears pick up the sound of labored breathing at the edge of the impact zone. I approach cautiously and discover a frail and electrocuted fox, its fur singed and its breath shallow and erratic. A decision looms—should I consume it, provide assistance, or end its suffering?
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Despite my monstrous appearance and the darker aspects of my nature, I am not without compassion. I carry the spirit of a dragon within me, a creature of honor and dignity, as my pre-transformation prayers attest.
Gently, I scoop the trembling fox into my massive claws and transport it to the warmth of the furnace. Fetching a military steel bowl, I fill it with water from the nearby river, offering it to the terrified creature.
"Shh," I soothe in my rumbling voice, "I apologize for the harm I caused you. My target was the deer, and I was ravenous." With a sigh, I continue, "I may appear as a monster, but I am a dragon, the last of my kind. Eons ago, dragons ruled these very forests."
"I will mend your wounds, but I implore you not to spread tales of my heartlessness. I am a mere predator, like yourself, driven by the primal need to survive."
Tears welled in the fox's eyes as it whimpered, "Please, do not devour me. I have young ones to feed, and winter is fast approaching, Mrs. Dragon."
"I give you my word; I will not harm you. Take some water and rest near the furnace. Its heat will ease your muscles, and by nightfall, you will be back on your paws. Your condition is simply shock."
"Are you the one who commands the thunder?" the little fox inquired, curiosity flickering in its gaze.
"I am the thunder, as I consume its essence, but I lack the knowledge of hunting. So, I resorted to thunder. It may seem excessive, and I am not proud of using it on the deer. However, it ensured a swift and painless end. The creature felt nothing."
"In a peculiar way, providing a merciful death is a blessing," the fox remarked.
"Would you like some of the deer's remains for your young ones?" I offered.
"Yes, we have never tasted meat like that, but our prey is often too small. We hunt rabbits and mice and scavenge human refuse," the fox responded.
"Very well, let us be friends. We shall share my next meal with your family. You can teach me your hunting ways from a distance, and I shall observe without interference. Is that agreeable?" I proposed.
"Agreed," the fox chirped.
And so, in the comforting warmth of the furnace, we drifted into slumber, bound by an unexpected friendship forged in the crucible of transformation and compassion.