The roars of dragons and spouts of flame did not bother Ombre, but she did bother them-- some had learnt to put up with her nosing around and occasional theft of weird looking rocks, but most (the younger one especially) still tried to douse her in flame or smash her with their great claws. It infuriated them that she could rearrange their lairs just fine, yet their swipes and fiery breath passed straight through her. But she seemed oblivious to their rage, continuing to take and leave odd things about their caves.
Today she was drifting down the mountainside, though her motivations were a mystery. She bobbed along, feet not even touching the ground, until she came across an interesting trio-- a half-drake, an owl, and some sort of cat. She drifted around in front of them to look better, stare fathomless and deep. One never knew what she was thinking-- she might wander away, she might try to steal the cat. Who knew.
