Branch opened his eyes.

The sun shone above his head between the leaves of the trees, it took him a moment to realize that he was sleeping on the ground in the middle of the forest. He ran his hand through his hair still little sleepy. What was he doing here? Why was not he at home in his bunker? So many questions jostle in his mind that he had a headache.

He got up on his weak legs, he had the impression that he had just run a marathon as if the dream he had just made was real ... He tried to think, he had to go home first . Fortunately, he sighed with relief as he noticed a familiar path that led to the Trolls village.

Yes, because Branch was a troll himself. He was the only gray troll in the village to be more precise. His black hair like raven feathers stood on his head and his big gray ears were trembling, attentive to the sounds of the forest. Branch used to wear brown shorts that he made himself and a jacket made from leaves.

He finally saw the village and headed for the royal mushroom where a general assembly had just been asked to the great astonishment of Branch. All the trolls in the village around him seemed nervous, What was happening to make them so? King Pepy answered his question immediately:

-I know the events of last night we all frighten ... he began in a trembling voice

The old king coughed in his hand and continued in a much more confident voice:

-But I assure you that we are not risking anything, I will make sure that this black dragon do not come back among us!

A shout of intense joy rang out, forcing Branch to put his hands on his ears. Since when was he so sensitive? Had he heard what the King had said? His dream came back to him ... When he asked for silence and announced:

-Today, I would try to find volunteers to capture this dragon.

No, he had heard the last word

-A dragon? He murmured, but the dragons disappeared more than a years ago ...

-It seems that one of them is surviving extinction ... answered a troll next to him, Where were you last night for not having seen it?

-I was...

But his awakening in the forest comes back to his mind, how did he get there? The possible answer struck him like a flash. He runs off to his bunker, a theory he hoped would prove false in the head. Once home, he headed for a shelf where he was storing books. He caught a title "encyclopedia of fantasy" and began to flip the pages through at full speed.

He finally found the chapter he looking for and dropped the book:

Trollagons are creatures similar to the werewolf. Half-troll, half-dragon. The only way to become a trollagon is to drink rainwater in a dragon footprint on a moonlit night or to be part of the family of a trollagon.The metamorphosis usually takes a few years to get all the powers of a Trollagon. There is no known way to get rid of this curse.

Branch looked in his memories, trying to understand how that was happening ...

Then he remembers:

FLASHBACK

A young, blue-skinned troll tumbled down the hill. He felt the invasive pain in his right leg, his knee was bleeding. The child immediately got out has a bandage of his hair

He turns, a little brown cat approached him moaning.

-Oh ... but you bleed too! Remarked the little blue troll.

He uses his only dressing to discover the kitten's wound, at the same time, his grandmother came running to him.

-Are you okay?

-Yes grandma, I just helped a little cat and he is cured now!

The old troll sighed, noting the broken leg of the child, barely six years old.

-Oh Branch ... You are as generous a heart as your father's, a real Dragon Heart.

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I think this prologue will do the trick, YOU WANT THE FOLLOWING, THE NEXT CHAPTER EXPECTS YOU!