The green serpent slithered through the forest, his wings held over his head like an umbrella. It was dark, muddy, and cold for the end of summer. Rain poured all around him.
The woods were silent, save for the sound of rain and the occasional thunderclap. He saw not one bird or beast, even when lightning lit the sky.
He came to the oak where the wolves attacked the woodcutters. He saw the gash from the axe on its side. The dragon looked around; he saw no one. He focused his will, summoned the energy, and lit the mighty oak with a white flame so hot that raindrops turned to steam before they could douse it.
He looked and listened. No wolves or ravens.
He proceeded to the hill where wasps assaulted the soldiers. He looked up to the apex and saw a cave. The serpent slithered up the slope towards it.