Creole was lonely. His family was all about doing their own thing and he was left to his own devices. With Hel gone the Spine was lonely, without her constant sighs and groans from her bored, fear locked, position in their home he found it far too quiet.

Sighing the man sat on one of the peaks that day, gazing out over everything that was their new home, everything he wasn't used too, and groaned as he remembered what home was. Where they had come from and what drove his fire, now he was nothing more than a shell of a man run by females and males of his loins... When they were around. He gritted sharp pearly daggers as the Dragon let out a small growl into the nothingness that was the high peaks.

The Dragon was once mighty, strong, he was now a shell of a reptile that once rules with an iron paw. He used to strike fear in others and now they seemed to laugh and scoff in his direction.
What was he to anyone? To himself?
Even he didn't know anymore.

The morning didn't bring anything to the man, no warmth from the sun that shone brightly above, no emotions were beckoned forth by the light breeze that tickled his chin and ruffled his lengthy fur.
He was uncomfortably numb.

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