Bitten By A Dragon

Chapter 1: The Scarf

The alarm clock blared, and I pretended not to hear it. My red scales were hidden beneath a pile of blankets, and my wings were pressed tightly against my body. Curled up and cozy in my bed, I wasn't eager to face the world.

It was a chilly day, and the only window in my room was open, allowing a cold breeze to seep in. From my spot on the bed, I could see snow falling outside. Two evergreen trees stood blanketed in white, transformed overnight.

The night before, my friend had warned me about the snow. She told me to buy a scarf or something to keep warm. Her pink eyes, matching her pink scales, had gone wide when I confessed that I hadn't planned to prepare for a cold day. After all, it hadn't snowed in Vancouver the previous year.

"I can't believe you don't own a scarf," my friend Magenta had lectured while we sat on the couch, playing video games. I rolled my eyes, concentrating on completing the objective while she waited to respawn.

"It's not a big deal," I replied. "If it snows, I'll grab one after school. If it doesn't, I won't waste money on something I don't need."

She scoffed, then sent her character—a glamorous werewolf princess wielding a rainbow sword—charging toward my dragon warrior to help complete the mission.

"A scarf is only ten dollars, Caramel," Magenta pointed out. "You can afford ten dollars. And if you can't, just ask me."

Her comment made me frown. I knew she meant well, but I didn't like being reminded of how much wealthier she was. She was always impeccably dressed, from her sleek black leather jacket to her designer skirt—both likely more expensive than the console we were playing on.

"I'm stubborn," I admitted.

"I know," she said, nodding. "It's a problem, but we'll work on it another time."

She smirked as my character was struck down by an arrow from the opposing team. "But don't come whining to me tomorrow at school when you're freezing."

Now, as another icy gust blew in through the window, I cursed under my breath. I should have bought a scarf, just as Magenta had suggested. If I showed up to school without one, I'd never hear the end of it.

The door to my bedroom creaked open, and my caretaker entered—a small werewolf covered in black fur, named Zero-Seven-Nine. She marched up to my bed and yanked the blankets off, exposing my curled-up form.

"Get up. Your teeth need brushing, your horn needs polishing, and you need to eat breakfast. We can skip your morning scrub today, but you'll need a good one before dinner tonight."

I rolled my eyes, only to feel her furry paw swat my nose.

"There's no need to be rude, Mom."

Her expression softened, as it always did when I called her Mom. Most dragons viewed werewolf caretakers as mere servants, but to me, she was like a parent—an unusual sentiment for dragons, who rarely valued parent-child bonds since they didn't raise their own young.

"Your food is getting cold," she said, gesturing to the window where the snow was clearly visible. "If you brush your teeth and polish your horn quickly, it might still be warm when you get downstairs."

Groaning, I sat up, spreading my wings. She turned to leave, but before she could reach the door, my tail wrapped around her waist.

"Wait a moment, Mom." I leaned in to kiss her furry cheek. Her blush radiated warmth against my scales, and I nuzzled her. "Thank you for waking me. I'm sorry I was rude. I love you."

Zero-Seven-Nine smiled sweetly, and I was certain that smile would last all morning.

"I love you too," she said, "but you still need to brush your teeth before breakfast."