In Flight
It's not an imaginative title. But hey, it's not an imaginative drawing.
Yet again I am reminded of the fact that I can't draw wings. However, I may watercolour this... this baby's crying out to be dun coloured.
Of course, I'm supposed to tell you that this is a young Pegasus colt, about two years old, who has become seperated from his family-flock (You know, of course, that all Pegasi have two to three foals every seven years from the age of nineteen years and nine months onwards, from which they form family-flocks ruled by the oldest pair, two to five of their children, their mates, and their foals. And of course you also know that it's only adult males that carry the distinctive and showy white colouring, with the occasional black, most females being either blue or golden and the foals chestnut, bay or dun) and has come across a rather nasty fire breathing giant lizard (Of the species Pseudodraconis Ignus, distinctive because of it's scorch coloured stripes) and is about to be eaten, forming part of a vital food chain.
I'd much rather say that this was Suolnan, the first pegasus foal to be born in seven thousand years, enjoying a little summer air in the mountains. Or at least he was, until he strayed a bit too close to the lair of Viridis, the Emerald-Incarnate (Also known as 'That giant fucking dragon who keeps eating my sheep'), whose never tasted Pegasus before but rather fancies, with them being nearly extinct, that it must be something damn special.
But then again, I'm not a very good fantasy writer.