A white raven perched in a nearby tree wakes me with it's continuous shouting of "Wryda!" Blinking to adjust my eyes to the light I look up at it, it's eyes stare straight at me taking in my proportions and I worry that it might swoop down and start pecking at me, but it doesn't. It simply stares, extends it's wings and soars off into the distance with a final, "Wryda." Slowly creeping out from under the white flowers, I catch sight of a small creature with a long tail that makes little squeaking noises. It's brown fur keeps it camouflaged but I can easily see it moving across the ground until it reaches me. It stands still, fright filling it's tiny eyes and it's pink nose twitches frantically. I slowly reach into it's mind to learn that it is called a mouse. Curiously I start to sniff it back, and a thin line of smoke streams out of my nostrils and the mouse frantically hurries off. Making friends is going to be difficult.

Now that the forest seems quiet and empty with no threat of being harmed, hunger and thirst begins to hit my body. Without a rider to help me I'm not entirely sure how to catch food to eat, but water should be easy to find. Walking across the ground, the dirt soft beneath my feet and the trees creating a cool breeze, feels like heaven after my limbs have been cramped up for so long. Only not a heaven without my rider.

Eventually I reach a little stream which bubbles along the rocks merrily, creating a soft and calming trickling sound. It meanders round the willow trees with their low hanging branches and out of sight. I carefully walk towards the streams edge and lower my head to lap up the cool water with my pink tongue, listening intently for anything that might try to sneak up behind me.

Looking into the clear water, I catch sight of a pair of amber coloured eyes staring straight at me. Fear spreads to the tips of my wings and I jump back, whatever was looking at me seems startled too and it moves back at the exact same time as me. Curiously I creep back towards the waters edge to get a better look at the strange creature that can move at the same time as me. Standing before it I stretch my wings and it copies me…

The beautiful hues of orange shimmer and sparkle before my eyes, slightly distorted by the rippling water and I realise that I'm not staring at some strange creature that can move at the same time as me, I am staring at my reflection. Large eyes, small body, sharp teeth, claws, and spines and my thin membrane of wings, which will one day be strong enough to fly with a rider on my back. I continue staring at my reflection until the sun goes down, making me unable to see myself in the moonless night and the stars are little help. I trudge sleepily back towards the flower bed, my thirst quenched but my hunger still gnawing at my stomach. Tomorrow I will have to find some sort of food, navigate my way through this forest and begin the search for my rider.

In the distance and owl hoots, for some reason I know all the different types of birds but not many other creatures. The sound is soothing and my eyelids feel heavy, sleep takes over my body and for the first time ever I have a dream:

A young man of about sixteen years old is lying on the floor with blood staining the sleeve of his left arm from a wound. His hair is bronze and falls just above his shoulders and his eyes are closed making him look at peace. The sound of rusty hinges fills the silent room and a dark haired man enters the room, which I now notice is a cell, and gives the boy on the floor a look of pity, and places a plate holding stale bread on the floor along with a glass of water. "I wish I could help you," he mutters, his voice is quiet like he's afraid he might be heard.

The boy on the floor stirs and whispers, "Help it. Please. The Spine," and falls back into unconsciousness. The other man looks down at him and runs his fingers through his hair, conflicting emotions flicker in his eyes and then he leaves. The boy just lies there, occasionally murmuring something about an orange stone, and then it hits me. His heart. It is the heart of my rider. He is being held prisoner.