Drakaar

 The sun was beginning to dip down into the horizon and the clouds were changing hues to a light purple as they grew nearer to the great fiery mass. The nocturnal beings of the forest were just starting to emerge from their various hiding places to go about their nightly routines as Fechin sat on the now dead stump of a once grand oak tree. He remained there in silence for a while before standing. Slowly he unfurled his wings, the gigantic feathery things that they were, stretching them out before he took off, much in the same manner as a runner stretching his legs before the big race. He was a majestic being to behold, roughly six and a half