No wind could stop her. No oversized human could block her path. No words could calm the fury.

Like a spear thrown at the top of the strength, Ansgarde pierced the air and used the momentum to overthrow the human that held screaming Spinel in his knobby fist. Shrieking intelligible words, she pinned him down, wings flapping above her. Spinel sunk her sharp teeth into the flesh, drawing blood. The human released the hold with a cry.

Ansgarde wrenched her little friend out of his grasp and felt something pull her wing. She sprung up and turned on the ponytail-man who dared to touch her. One look at her, and he backed up, hands in the air.

One human whining on the ground, one standing near, others running to interfere -- she couldn’t stay. She flew above their reach and landed on the closest column, panting, eyes darting in all directions.

“Did they hurt you?” she asked trembling Spinel who curled up into a ball in her palm.

The little demon shook her head but did not stop shaking.

Below her, humans gathered, yelling their complaints. Larimar ran over from the Mystic’s tent, asking everyone what had happened.

“It attacked Mafic for no reason!”

“Did you see those demon eyes? It’s an evil beast!”

Ansgarde’s lips curled over her teeth. She was the beast here? Those monsters nearly ate Spinel! They were worse than she feared.

She crouched on top of a crumbling column, the last few minutes feeling unreal. She wasn’t sure how she managed to overpower a human much larger than herself. She had never engaged in a physical fight before. She didn’t know she had it in her. And what now?

“Do something, Lar!” the gummy-smiled woman demanded while Felsic and Mafic related to everyone exaggerated details of her attack.

As humans continued calling her names, pointing up, raising fists and wooden mallets, Larimar just glared. The Mystic did not join him. He likely took her to safety to protect her from this wild demon.

She didn’t think she hurt Mafic. She had no physical strength, no claws or sharp teeth. She was the weaker species here. Her act was justifiable, but it didn’t matter. They hated her too much to listen to reason. They wouldn’t help her now.

“This was a mistake,” she said, smoothing out Spinel’s fuzzy hair with a trembling hand. “We’re on our own.”

A powerful gust of wind nearly unseated her, and she took that as a sign.

She flew up, leaving the screaming humans below her, and glided on the wind. Gradually, her heart slowed down the frantic beating. Flying always had a calming effect on her. Humans were insignificant from this point of view. She was better off without them.

She circled the island, trying to find what she came here for without their help. She searched the desolate land for a place that would look like it contained something important, but only found fields of dried-out vegetation and harsh, inhospitable rocks. She found no other human settlements and no other ruins of dragon civilization. If this island held secrets, they were well hidden.

Every muscle in her body ached and begged for rest, but she needed to get further away from humans. It was time to expand the search.

She picked a small island that laid a little lower than this one and was submerged in a cloud of mist. Warm droplets hit her face and landed on her chapped lips. While gliding over the colorful vegetation, she opened her mouth, letting the moisture soothe her parched tongue.

She landed on a grassy meadow, the sweet scent of damp earth greeted her like her favorite Lower Heliodor park, but she didn’t take the time to look around. The wind and strong gravity demanded three times as much effort as what she was used to. She was a strong flyer, but even she needed a break sometimes.

“I need to rest, Spinel,” she whispered, barely able to stand on two feet. “Just for a little bit.”

The sun was still high above her. She was fed up with this strange world where midday shadow did not exist. The drawn-out day felt like weeks. She dragged her exhausted limbs and settled in the shadow of a large tree. She collapsed onto her knees and laid belly-down on the moist moss, resting her head on her hands.

Spinel touched her cheek and sang a soft tune, which made her forget everything and accept the sleep realm’s call. Ansgarde curled her wings around them to block out more light and let sleep claim her. There was always tomorrow.