Zarvax

The great dragon knelt at the river's edge, his massive jaws dipping into the cool, rushing water as the morning mist clung to his scales. As he drank, his golden eyes caught movement—a figure bobbing downstream, limp and broken. He raised his head, nostrils flaring. It was a human, unconscious and barely clinging to life, blood trailing behind him in ribbons through the current. One leg twisted unnaturally, the other torn and mangled. The dragon’s heart, ancient and fierce, stirred with something unexpected—concern.With a low rumble of urgency, the dragon stepped into the river, the current parting around his immense form. Water surged around his claws as he moved with surprising gentleness, reaching the drifting human just before he was swept around a bend. The man’s body was cold, his skin pale beneath blood and grime, his chest rising in shallow, uneven breaths. Carefully, the dragon curled his claws beneath the fragile frame, lifting him free of the water like a bird cradling a fallen chick.

The dragon carried him to the riverbank and laid him on the soft moss. Steam rose where the water on his scales met the morning air, but his focus never wavered. He studied the injuries—deep gashes, bones protruding, and a haunting silence from the man’s lips. For a long moment, the dragon simply watched, nostrils flaring, ancient instincts battling with the pull of compassion. Then, he lowered his head and wrapped a wing around the human’s broken form, shielding him from the wind. Whatever had befallen this stranger, the dragon would not let him die alone. Not here. Not like this.