Autumn was returning and the long hibernation of the Dragonette had come to a close. Her sleep had been interrupted this year. For reasons still not fully understood by her, she had risen in August. The brief foray up the stairs of her lair had caught her quite off guard. Too early! she had mused. But it also was far to late to return to her slumber. She had, therefore, spent the month silently pacing her lair – waiting, just waiting. How she hated those long sun-filled days, with the blinding light and hot, humid air. But now, the days were getting shorter, and the air was beginning to become crisp at night. Her time to emerge was nearly at hand.
As she awaited the sunset, she thought of all that was before her. She would fly through the lengthening evening. She would soar above the unsuspecting people below, her airborne form so nearly that of a bat in flight that she would be mistaken for such. She would feel the cool breeze in her fur and the fresh air in her lungs. October, how she longed for All Hallows Eve, and then her work could begin. From then until March, she would prowl the nights breathing her icy frost breath – freezing puddles and icing window panes with the cold signature of her passing.
But for now the miniature frost dragon was poised for all that would come.