Dragons were a species known for their pride. But Zaid had never had anything to be proud of. He was a runt hatchling who could neither fly or spark a flame. He was the last of a species that had been hunted to extinction by the very people his kind was meant to protect. And even the goddess who had spared his life had acknowledged that he was not the dragon who had been destined to survive that day.

She had to work with what she had managed to salvage, and that was him. Being a last of his kind and a last resort was not exactly the hi-light of a life.

Still, even a dragon as useless as he liked to hold onto some illusion that he was worth something. So Zaid turned his head, staring away at the treeline when he answered Amery's question.

"I can not fly."