Long, long ago, deep within mountains known to few, there was a forest older than all the kings' beards combined.
The wind scattered bits of snow from the ridges, sweeping over moss, into tree hollows, across flower petals and the scent of fruit, and into a cave in the deepest part of the forest.
Living in that cave was a newborn dragon.
His scales were as smooth as a newborn kitten's, dark as rain-soaked obsidian, and his golden eyes seemed to hold newly born stars.
When he took his first breath, the forest remembered his scent.
And so, the newborn dragon lived in the forest, hunted, ate, and peacefully passed year after year.
It was another new day. The dragon woke hungry, left his cave, and went in search of breakfast.
His sense of smell was ten times sharper than that of the keenest hunting hound. Before long, following a scent, he found a warm dirt mound covered in clover. Beneath it lived a family of rabbits.
With a gentle scrape of his claw, the dragon overturned the earth, revealing seven trembling balls of fluff and a mother rabbit standing before them, so frightened she was nearly fainting.
"Please... please don't eat them!" the mother rabbit cried in terror. "They've only just opened their eyes, sir. Eat me instead. I... I have more meat!"
The young dragon looked at the rabbits and hesitated.
He was very smart. His instincts told him he should eat them; that was one of the forest's laws.
Yet when he saw the despair in the mother rabbit's eyes, the young dragon felt pity and gave up on eating them.
"I... am not hungry," the dragon said hoarsely.
Awkwardly, he pushed the dirt back into place, covering the burrow entrance, then turned and left.
And