You rise from the pile of shredded grass that forms your bed, before heading outside to spread your wings and catch some sunlight to warm your cold and sluggish blood.

You feel like there's something you need to remember, something that came to you in a dream last night...

Then you hear the hooffalls, and you remember. Last night, you realised that as long as you conformed to the stereotype, as long as you remained the greedy, lusty, dumb brute that dragons are supposed to be, you would never know a moment's peace. Gold might be pretty, but it was a poor replacement for the ability to enjoy a human maiden without having to burn her village to cinders and tie her down, the chance to receive food from villagers without having to threaten their lives, or even simply to be able to bask in the sun without worrying about sudden death.

The knight rounds the curve in the path to your lair, yelling something about "purging the foul beast". Well, he's not the type to listen to reason, so you'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way. By which, you don't mean a full frontal charge, no. Knights have worked out that if they're going dragon-hunting, they'll need to prepare for just that. Instead you...