Dreamcatcher

The night was cold, the chill winds of winter wrapped around like the hatchling like a dull blanket. He had grown used to the biting chill of it hours ago. His eyes were streaked with tears, his voice raw from crying out into the cold, unforgiving night. As soon as he made to open his mouth, the dancing wind snatched it away with a howl.

He knew he was out here to long, but he was so cold, so very cold. The wind bit into his bones, frost bitten scales covered his wings and chest. He huddled closer, drawing his legs into his chest, hoping to offer a little warmth.

Maybe he should give up. Maybe he wasn't worth it. As soon as he was born, he knew he was marked. He didn't remember much, only a few hushed words, offering, cold, so hungry.
He had just bitten out of his shell when he was snatched from his lair, carried quickly to the hill top and left. That had been so long ago. It could have been hours, or years, his grasp of time had begun to slip.

There was no more cold. Just a sort of calm, lurking at the edges of his mind, creeping in. It would all be over soon. He just had to let go, to let it take him.

He closed his eyes. It would all be over soon.

Soon.