I smile as I look at all the trees with my posters on them. This forest is about to be bulldozed, and some volunteers and I are protecting it. We are what you call "tree huggers" but we aren't just ordinary nature loving hippies. We are from the Society For The Protection of Magical Creatures. We don't want this forest to be bulldozed not just because of all the wildlife in it but because many companion species live in this wood.
All the people in this society have a magical creature. Mine is a golden dragon, a very rare dragon that no one else has. She is waiting in the treetops, out of sight. " Rhoda," I call. She winds down the tree to look me in the eyes, which are the same blue as my own. She snorts, blowing a short burst of hot air at me. I say, I know you're impatient, but you have to wait.
I smile, and she curls back up the tree. She is about 15 years old, which in dragon years is very young. I am her age, which is why we get on so well. The forest suddenly rumbles, and I see a bulldozer in the distance. All the tree sprites and dryad companions fall to the ground. I get to work, quickly tying my long, sun streaked, brown hair in a ponytail and strap myself to a tree.
