She closes her eyes, pictures that flame within her, leaping and burning and growing - a flame that lights and warms and illuminates and invigorates.
That flame she visualizes, she realizes, is more than a power within her, it is her. What she is and always has been, even as a wavering spark, unaware of the potential she yet held. A flame inseparable from the essence of what she is.
She smiles, and embraces that aspect of herself. She rises. She leaps, and flares and burns bright and strong. She consumes that form, that self she sometimes wears; a smile is visible on that face.
She grows. She changes. She becomes something more suited to what she is -
And when she opens new eyes, tears stream down rough red scale. Tears of relief, and of a weight removed.
She is a being of scale and heat and magic. She is a being of dragonfire.
Gently, she opens those new wings wide, tastes the air with a now-forked tongue. There's a breeze blowing, and it fills those wings - a cooling current beneath that new patagium.
She smiles, closes her eyes. A moment of silence, then, with welling strength in her heart, she throws her head back and fills the world with sound.
Birds scatter into the sky, fleeing the treetops for miles around. The ground beneath her quakes. Her roar, powerful and strong, echoes far across the world. No human's cry. Unmistakable for what it is, the power it holds in sound alone, resonating across the landscape, shockingly complex in timbre. Dragon-song.
... and from somewhere very far away, far away enough even she can only barely hear it even with her much improved hearing, there is a response. Distant, faint, but unmistakable.
Another. Another like her. Another flame, another beast, another dragon.
Not only is she not human, she is not alone.