It was fall, one side of him noted.

All around the now familiar swamp the leaves of trees were slowly turning brown. Just like his own scales were turning from a deep emerald to the colour of mud.

He sighed as once more, the sun started sinking into the horizon.

Time flew fast if your days were filled with hunger and contentment.

He swam through the mud covered in strange and colourful grasses, the flowers of spring long since gone.

The first frost had come just a few days ago and soon it would be winter.

He wondered what he would eat then.

But he could not quite focus on it. He was just so tired.

He had not truly slept since he emerged from his egg, simply waited and passed the nights away, one part of him noted.

The other was oddly quiet. Just like it had been for a few days during the height of the summer.

But then he had felt restless then and not lethargic. He could barely motivate himself to watch the beautiful sunset, one of his favorite things to do most days.

So he lowered his eyes and just simply swam further trough his home.

By this point, he had explored almost all parts of it.

And it was strangely empty. Except for him, there was nothing bigger than a frog here. And nothing ever entered.

He had seen birds of prey fly high above, but never had one struck in the swamp.

Strange animals with aquatic features sometimes came close to the eastern side, but again. None entered.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

It was almost as if anyone with enough brain capacity avoided this place.

Another thing to add to the pile of mysteries, he guessed, as he dove beneath just as the sun did the same.

Soon he was back in this familiar place. Just another valley in the stone beneath the mud. But one he would always find back to.

And here, in his cradle, he was at peace. And sleep came dragging him down into a darkness somehow even deeper than the total blackness surrounding him.

He saw strange colours and shapes, he was doing something. But something was not quite right.

No, it was not quite right, something in him spoke. And another part agreed now that it saw as well.

Saw what? ...

He saw strange colours and shapes, but they were slowly changing. From the beauty of chaos to something else...

He awoke, aching and befuddled. And very hungry. He could not remember the hunger ever being this strong, no, maybe it was just after his birth.

Food Now! One side of him demanded. And it was so very loud.

Then he was eating some flower or other, then a bug, another flower and then a whole frog.

Only when night fell and urgency drew him under the surface of the swamp did the haze slowly fade.

And while one side of him still complained strongly about hunger, it also could accept the nessecity of staying beneath.

And another could finally truly wake.. And take stock.

The first thing noted after the hunger was the tightness. He felt constricted. So he felt around himself and noticed that his scales felt strange.

He felt a bit bigger than before, but that was hard to determine in total darkness.

So he simply waited. As he had done so many times before.

When morning came, he rose and again the hunger assaulted him, but for a moment, one part of him pleaded, let me do something.

And when he broke the surface he saw the flowers around himself. The flowers. It was spring. He had slept through winter and it had felt like minutes at most.

Then he brought up one claw and licked it clean and beneath lay black scales, which looked somehow rotten. And disgust filled him.

With urgency and speed he did not think he had in himself, he tried peeling off a scale with his tongue only to find it impossible.

It was somehow soft and very hard to tear.

So he tried around. Rubbing himself against a rock that seemed a bit smaller than before.

Trying to grip the scales with his teeth, then his claws. He was just about to give up when he accidentally flexed the sixth digit on one claw and from the small stumb emerged a claw that was thin and looked wicked sharp.

He found that it could carve through his old scales with little effort, although the new ones beneath resisted it just fine. And they bore the bright green of spring and once properly cleaned the were beautiful.

As his work drew to a close sitting on a rock in the middle of the swamp, he could not help but admire himself. He was beautiful. And for a while he could not help but preen and flex and try to look at himself from every angle.

What a wonderful gift this life is! One side exclaimed. Hungry! The other replied.

And so he left his rock to once more continue his endless feast. Until the hunger abated in fall.

After all, a Dragon had time.