The owl and the wee dragon

I call this a tiny story

Wings flapping, wind searing through her feathers as she flew over the kingdom.

Some wee dragon had caught her scent, and flew a couple of meters over her.

She could see the mountains closing in on her, tiny drops carried by the wind hit her beak and eyes.

The fall was there right in front of her, and she knew the dragons hated water.

Her talons hitting the nearest ledge through the stream of water.

“Damn owl, well, no dinner for me today.” the wee dragon hissed.