Movement startled the girl's head up, as she watched the stag depart the crimson lake's edge. Ears pricked, and keen, draconic eyes tracked the beast's rapid exit, nostrils breathing in the musky scent as it rolled across the expanse of the lake. But there was another - the equine from before. The green and red met in the sky above her, just below the canopy, illuminating the shadows - and something else.

It moved towards her, scarlet eyes aglow with youthful curiosity, bald face giving her a point to identify against an otherwise midnight hide. The girl does not shift or move as he approaches, for by the lights of her spiritual friends, she is able to see his youthfulness - absently, she does wonder whether his mother knows that he wanders so freely in the wilds after dusk, but then decides it is not her burden to worry about - and she almost reflexively goes through the motions of making herself appear less, less threatening, less dangerous, less dragon.

But his question, abruptly breaking the silence with its demanding, questioning tones, causes her to pause her motions, and lift a brow in simple interest. Above her, the dragons sing a low, harmonic song, which sounded like the precursor to a warning of danger, an alarm to set one's nerves on edge. Beneath their eerie glow, the girl transforms; she is a equine and dragon hybrid trying to look more equine; but now, her nape arches as her ears turn backward atop her sharply angled skull, her eyes narrow their gaze as her wings lift from her sides, making her seem all the larger and more draconic. To polish the image off, her tail swung from side to side, a glint of the scythe within the caramel hair flashing in the moonlit night.

It was not an intentional act, but something instinctual, something she could hardly control; it was like breathing, impossible to resist. It was her inner queen, the golden draconic half of her blood rising to the forefront, overtaking her equine heart and filling it with things far more wilder and lustier, altogether more dragon.

Amaris the hybrid did not exist for a moment.

Amaris the Queen did.

Her crown tilted as she peered down her nose at this colt who dared to ask what she was. Was the answer not obvious?

But then something happened. Like a ripple, a trickle, a wave washing over her, suddenly she was back, the hybrid returned, the equine mare, altogether softer, gentler and much more kind resurfaced. The fire of the dragon still hummed in her heart and soul, but its case did not so obviously display it now. Still, she wore an expression of mild interest, her ears pricked forward, her brow raised as with a small, barely-there smirk she answered the boy with yet another question for him to consider, in a smooth, deep, melodic voice that could only be described as unique to the dragon-girl.

"What do you think I am?

@[Volterra]

Daniel Schiersner @ flickr & larfsalot @ deviantart