You are a human boy transformed into a dragon whelp. Your body is sheathed in scales of deep forest-green, and your eyes are like fields of autumn grass waving in the wind. You were injured in an accident and fell ill, and you were nursed back to health by the beautiful, blue, gray-eyed drake named Dizzy-tail. Dizzy-tail has since become your lover, and you have been given the dragon name Amber-fields. One day, while Dizzy-tail was off receiving his education, a mysterious and territorial elder dragon, calling himself Blunt-snout, spared you of abuse after you accidentally appealed to his antiquated mannerisms. After warming up to you, Blunt-snout gave you a mission: in exchange for the unchallenged use of a ravine that lies in his territory, you were to bring Dizzy-tail to where he lives among the mystic dragon-kin, the kobolds, to meet with him. After the two of you stopped to make love in one of the enchanted gardens above where the kobolds have settled, you and Dizzy-tail suddenly had to make a hasty escape up a nearby bluff to avoid blundering into a procession of the creatures, who might not have understood that you and Dizzy-tail were guests of their ally, Blunt-snout. You ended up lagging far behind Dizzy-tail in your ascent, and the two of you have become separated, leaving you spending the night alone on a dangerously sloped, chilly and uncomfortable ledge that hosts a brittle conifer grove. As a cold front blows in, you are only able to stay warm by covering your entire body with your wing and intermittently warming yourself by creating small, blue fireballs in your mouth as your source of heat.
In spite of your exhaustion, the days are still too short for you to have slept through the night. It is well before the first light of dawn, with stars still out in the sky. As you extract yourself from your own wing, the chill of the wee hours hits you like a wall, and your teeth chatter as your bestially naked, thin form for is struck by it with full force, your body almost expiring immediately as the warmth and vitality are violently yanked out of you like your life-ghost.
You are tempted to hide once again under the cover of your wings, but you feel somewhere in your bones that something has happened to Dizzy-tail. You don't think he would have run off somewhere without you, especially not to the extent of never returning during the night to find where you slept. The young, muscular drake had cared for you like his own child and made incredible love to your body. You start calling out his name in the night, at first focusing on an image of him to make sure that he receives the thought, {{Dizzy-tail! Where are you! Where are you, Dizzy-tail!}}. You cast your thoughts off in every direction, eventually dropping the filter on your thoughts and just helplessly, wracked with frustration, screaming with your mind for your lover to come back to you.
Finally, you are too frustrated to cower under the cold. As you stir, your metabolism finally begins taking up the challenge of warming your body and returning feeling to your wings, which feel sore and achy as the nerves in them start coming back to life. You realize that the cold is not so very terrible, actually. It is below freezing up on the ledge but not by much, and the more you move your wings, the more confident you start to feel against the cold. Ouch! The cramps these wings get from being immobile in the cold are a menace to dragon-kind.
Now, some mistakes are altogether avoidable. As you try crawling out to where the ledge overlooks the gorge below, you realize that you might have made one of those sorts of mistakes. On the steeply sloped ledge, you begin slipping down, and your talons tearing up clusters of thistle as you go is not really helping matters very much. To be clear, you are on your way to slipping down a carpet of sharp and pointy, rather hostile plants to take a plunge down into a narrow gorge that holds creatures in it that might, for all that you know, have abducted Dizzy-tail.
Not wanting to try relying on the kobolds to put you back together, you turn and begin flapping your wings as you attempt to scrabble back up the slope, not just trying to scoop the air with them but clawing with them against the ground. You use your wings as a third set of limbs, clawing at the ground with the ends of their digits. Because they are much wider, you are able to use them to heave yourself back up the perilous slope, and you claw your way back into the tree-cover, where you can manage to get some traction.
In fact, as you get back into the tree-cover, you bury your feet quickly into the pine-straw, where the bacteria working away at the roots of those trees releases warmth into the soil. Yes, tree-cover is very nice. Tree cover makes everything simpler. Yes, it does. It is relative warmth. However, you realize that this respite cannot last, and as the wee hours wear on, you begin picking your way along the sloping ledge and looking to see if you can find your way back to the trail leading down into the gorge.
The path eludes you in the darkness, but you do eventually find a place where some deciduous trees grow to the very lip of the precipice, and the leaves are deep enough, from years of shedding, to bury yourself in for relative warmth. You can look down into the gorge where the fires of the kobolds glow with low embers. You have no idea how you would get down to them, but something in your gut tells you that Dizzy is down there, somewhere. If he is alive, he will have to be rescued.
As you watch from your place buried in the leaves, you doze back off to sleep, and you awaken after dawn with a plan.