Hazel

Born in a storm, she was the only one of her sisters who managed to survive the harsh seas.
She groaned, raising her head, only to be faced with the endless horizon where the sky and the sea met. Her talons sunk into the soft sand under her as she stood up, recalling why she was there.
The storm. Her dad, Vile, stretching a claw towards her body as she slipped towards the edge towards the water.
"Mom! Dad!" She cried, having come out of my shell less than a week ago.
"Hazel!" Her father yelled, jumping off the ship. That was the last thing she saw before salt water infiltrated her senses.
"How.." She groaned, holding her head. "How am I still alive?"
She took in a sharp breath. Her legs threatened to fall from under her, but she looked onwards with an intense glare. She was going to survive. For her father; for the crew.
She moved towards the washed up remains of a small raft, wondering where it could have come from. She scavenged the wreckage for anything that could prove to be useful.
Hauling a piece of refined wood over her head, she moved to a decently flat piece of the beach. Placing down the piece of wood, she returned to the wreckage.
Eventually, she had piled up enough wood to start a fire big enough to dry her waterlogged wings. With a simple clash of two rocks, the wood burned to flames. She barely moved, spreading her wings.
Her eyes were shut as she loomed over the fire, but the near sound of wingbeats made her lift her head.
An almost angelic dragon flew over her, spiraling down towards her.