My flame burns within. A cool breeze blows over my wings. My nostrils flare, a deep exhale.
I feel the mountain air upon my scales, my tail flicking in unconscious satisfaction. I smell a thousand scents, distant hints of a dozen things around me.
My eyes gleam gold. My horns shine black. The wind gently tosses my mane.
It's been months now, but it never stops feeling wonderful. I'm a dragon. Holy shit. I'm a gods damned dragon! over a hundred mornings now I've woken up feeling my wings on my back and my tail behind me - whether that be in my true form or anthro form - and yet, the thought is still just as intoxicating. The fact that being a dragon is just a normal, everyday thing now - that just makes it more exhilarating!
It's a raw, pure joy; one that's just sheerly, immensely beautiful. My body feels Right. My wings are there, my tail is there. I'm no longer too small, too soft; my claws and teeth are as sharp as they should always have been.
I tilt my wings down, pushing the little thumb-claws at their tips into the earth below. Shifting my weight onto them, I lift my forepaws off the ground. It's a simple thing, simply switching from one set of limbs to another to stand, but the very fact that I can even do that still makes me a little giddy. I use my newly freed front paws to take off the (oversized) satchel bag around my torso and set it down beside me, and dig around inside for my parchments and ink.
The sunset is beautiful. I dip a claw in the ink, and start to sketch the landscape before me. It's an interesting discipline, claw-drawing. Quite the old art among dragonkind, but still something I've yet to master to the same degree as my human pencil-sketches.
But I'm a dragon now! Those claws aren't going away. I have the rest of my life to master this - and the rest of my life to enjoy being a dragon.
