Of Dragons and Knights

Dave looked at the dragon. It (he?) Was half buried in books and treasure, a strange mix in the hoard, was sleeping peacefully. He looked almost human, a boyish face just at the cusp of adulthood, but for the gray scales and nubs of horns. He steeled himself, reminding himself of his sister's disappearance at the hands of such a creature, even if it wasn't this one. He drew his broadsword, the scrape of steel on steel echoing faintly around the cavern. Not faintly enough, as the dragon shook himself sleepily, looking around dazedly until locking his eyes on Dave. "Fuck."