(Note: I won't be Письмо often. And this back-tracks to my early roleplaying days when I roleplayed as Princess Safaia Sky the Cagon, aka the last old dragon clan member.)

The barely awake, pale yellow sun had just rose. The dragon clan was weak from yesterday's battle with the orcs, they also had plaged the hatchlings... Poor them. I outstretched my electric blue wings, tired and hungry, my tail unfurled as if it too, was tired. My blue hair was in a mess from sleeping on my deer hide that I had made into a roll out bed. My ears Hung low, in hunger.
So I silently ran out of the cave, barefoot and flew to the nearest river. I stuck my head into the flowing river and waited for a fish, then clamped down on one рыба with my not so powerful fangs and raised my head out of the rapids, dripping wet. I flew back to the cave, and set the рыба down near the hatchlings so they could eat first. Clan rules and all. Our clan leader, had announced yesterday that most Драконы should stay in, to avoid getting shot down by dragon slayers.
Only 1/3 of our clan remained. It's only a matter of time that we all perish. I fear our dragon clan has no match for the orcs and the enemy dragons. My ice замок back in Bruma will have to stay abandoned. Let them live on, God. Let them live.