Wheeling Gull Isle ding dong, the dragon's not dead

She heard his howl again. He must really be set on finding her. All she could think of were the worst possible outcomes. Inside the cave, the familiar comfort of the shadows engulfed her. The air temperature had cooled considerably, taking the edge of the heat off her skin. Ahead of her, the path opened up to a grand pool of the purest blue she had ever seen. Had it not been for her mood, she would have sucked in a breath of awe.

His voice called to her, closer now. He was inside, caught up. She stopped dead in her tracks, letting one front paw hang suspended mid-air. A tentative glance over her shoulder had silver eyes searching for him. She debated on answering and sulking forward. The latter won out. Quickly, stealthily, like a cat who didn't want to be seen, she skirted round to the edge of the pool. But with nowhere else to go, she hunkered down and waited for him, head low. The picture of shame.