Flames. Burning light. Warmth that made his scales burn like a thousand suns.
He was striding across a volcanic field. The ground smoldered beneath him; the sky, orange and smoky, glowed as a fan of lava shot through it. Beyond, the outline of a jagged mountain range lay floating in the smoke.
His mother was by his side. Black and slender, with the grace of a big cat. She climbed over the rocks as if she were gliding over them. How her scales glistened!
His pain was gone. Looking down at his body, he beheld the muscular frame of his youth. He must have been a thousand years old, maybe more.
He blinked both of his eyes and they responded.
He could’ve screamed with joy!
But his mother’s face was grim.
He knew her face. He knew his mother as well as he knew scripture. He could read her
