GENRE: Dark fantasy
One of the opening scenes of the story. Shirracco, a wolf demon (basically a large, demonic wolf) has attacked a village suffering from the Black Plague. However, a dragon- dubbed Red by the villagers, due to the color of his scales- has arrived to try to save them...
Red tilted his head, orange eyes like seeds of muted hellfire. His wings creaked as he opened them languorously- but their muscles were tense.
“I ask you again,” he said, his voice calm and slow, though belied by the swishing of his tail. “Leave. They’ve done nothing to you.”
Shirracco’s ears twitched back and forth uneasily, and his eyes flared like the ends of two cigarettes. His claws dug into the ground a little more.
No one breathed. All that stood between them and Shirracco- the wolf demon with his Faustian promise of salvation from their suffering, only at the price of their lives- was a dragon, long thought the source of the Plague, and now their only savior. Two important questions remained.
Shirracco’s mouth twitched- his expression was of an asylum inmate who could either sit and stare at the wall for hours, or suddenly leap at his captors in a foaming fury. Would he turn tail and run in the face of such an opponent, or find Red’s words so infuriating that he’d attack? Hard to fight off, even for a dragon. By Red's wary expression, he was having trouble predicting the wolf, too.
Then the other important question.
After enduring years of malignant rumors, scandalizing remarks and insults, would Red stand in front of them and fight Shirracco off…or abandon them, as they would have done in his place?
Shirracco’s fur started to bristle as his lip lifted in a snarl- muscles twitching to bite or run.