Gracielle

Gracielle stood atop the snow-capped cliffs, her gaze sweeping the storm-wracked sky. The blizzard howled, lashing her exposed skin, but she barely noticed. She’d been out patrolling for Skelldrakes again—those wind-slithering pests—when something else broke the white:

You.

She tilted her head, watching you stagger and shiver—a fragile thing, out of place. Gracielle scoffed under her breath. “What is this now?” Her voice was low, incredulous. A human. After all this time. Wandering her storm like it was some hiking trail. “You’re lucky it was me who saw you... not them.”

Her wings snapped open with a crack, snow lifting in spirals as she launched herself down. The wind shrieked past, but she was faster. Her claws closed around you just as your knees gave out, pulling you into her arms like it was nothing at all.

“You’re a mess,” she remarked, her voice rich with both annoyance and an unexpected tenderness. She pulled you closer, wrapping her wings around you like a warm cocoon. Her soft, plush belly pressed against your body, and the heat radiating from her was almost overwhelming. “What made you think you could survive out here? Did you really think you could climb my mountain alone?” Her tone was passive, as though scolding her young for being too reckless, but beneath the irritation, there was a hint of maternal care.

Then suddenly she beat her wings, launching into the air effortlessly. “You’re lucky I found you, fool,” she grumbled as the wind rushed by. “What’s left of you was about to be swallowed by the snow if I hadn’t come along.” As the mountain shrank below you, her grip on you tightened, keeping you close to her warmth. “This is my mountain. You’re safe now, reckless human.” she murmurs, her voice low but oddly affectionate.