Small section from my five-chapter story The Young King (the first chapter of which can be read here):
The female dragon backed up rapidly from this terrible creature, only stopping when she felt her tail hit the rough bark of a tree-trunk. Unconsciously, she reached out to grasp her sleeping son – he was so tiny – and pull him into her chest for safety. 'N-no,' she whispered. 'I don't care about tradition... I don't care about the Tribe. I only want him to live a happy life. I will not condemn him to suffer what you have suffered through your whole life.'
He halted, but did not move away from her. 'You know that I will not allow you and your son to leave my sight,' he said matter-of-factly.
'Yes. You will never stop pursuing us until you have him.'
'Will you give him up now?'
'Never, my King.'
The clouds had covered the moon by then, hiding the glorious whiteness from her view, and she was grateful that she could not see the black dragon clearly as he leapt forwards to attack.