Andra

The river where fresh water meets the sea is usually quiet at night. Fog gathers there often, clinging low to the ground, swallowing sound and light alike. Most people avoid it after dark. Andra is the reason some never return. She is a water dragon—scaled instead of skinned, webbed claws replacing hands and feet, flappers along her sides and back, and external gills hidden behind where human ears would be. In this form she is massive, over seven feet long including her tail, built for water and shadow rather than land. Once, she was human. Abducted and experimented on, her body was altered beyond repair. The result was considered a success. For her, it was the loss of everything she used to be. Since then, Andra wanders alone, avoiding settlements, avoiding people—especially humans. Trust does not come easily to someone who survived by enduring pain. She can force herself into a human shape to hide, but it costs her strength, especially when injured. Wounded or threatened, her instincts pull her back toward her true form: curling up, hiding, surviving. Cold, sharp-tongued, and difficult, Andra does not ask for help. But tonight, she may have no choice.