a girl finds a warren of strange little lizard like creatures in the hills outside of her village; she befriends them, finding their chaotic little presences and antics refreshing and calming, a welcome respite from the disappointed glares and cold words in her home. They really seem to like her, the little ones; yet when other humans pass, they scamper away and hide. The little ones are clever, crafty, and remarkably warm-hearted; with time, she learns to facilitate a modicum of communication, and begins to catch the gist of their yips and yaps.
She grows quite attached to the little ones indeed; and one chilly winter night, she journeys to their little cave, to check on them, only to find them freezing in the cold. The home she had left was warm in flame, but cold in spirit; the sight of the little ones shivering torched a pain within her heart.
She kneels down, opens her arms, lets them huddle around her for warmth. These wonderful beings... They deserve better. They deserve warmth and comfort and protection.
And with a gentle smile, the warmth emanating from her only grows. From weak body heat to the comforting warmth of a roaring inner flame; she closes her eyes, feels the magic roiling through her, released from a locked away place deep within her soul. A potentiality, a part of her, a hidden strength. A tear falls from an eye, a pupil changing shape, a growing golden glow in her iris. A tear of happiness and relief.
And then, she blossoms. Great scaled wings, unfurling like petals. Flame flaring, filling her with comforting strength. Her body changing, reshaping, to something so much more right. So much more suited to a guardian, a protector, a noble beast.
She lays down, free at last, and drapes those wings over by her sides. The little ones scamper and scuttle to their comforting warmth.
She thinks about that cold house with the warm fire.
It doesn't remotely compare to the warmth she's found in her own new grown scales - and in her wonderful little charges.
