Unrest over Donkerplas: Chapter 5
A few days ago, he had woken up in the deep rocky hollows of Woudheuvel. No, that was not fully expressed correctly. He would rather use “woke up” in this context. That would explain this situation better and more correctly. A staccato-like thumping had finally penetrated his consciousness like an annoying whining. He had slowly raised its immense head from between its scaly legs. His eyelids, still tired of centuries of sleep, slid very slowly, one by one, open.
He looked around him very incensed. At first sight, everything was as it should be: dark, without any movement and cool enough to contain his inner fire. A dragon had to look for the coolness of the deep hollows in mountains on time, so as not to ignite and blend into its own fire or drink a whole lot of cold water. A precaution that every dragon cub was given with the spoon. Fnir, his mother had pre-chewed it to him countless times in the period before he reached adulthood and at that time his fire-breathing power began to flourish in his interior.
