JMD is Medea, female, short story to enter:
(WIP)
Medea stayed low slinking across the cooling evening grass. Her prey was above her, a bird, flitting in the trees, settling down for the night, oblivious to the lurking danger below it. Lashing her tail, she readied to pounce.
A scream rose through the night. "Demon!" Medea fell back to the ground, the bird taking flight at the unexpected shout; "A demon!"
A growl rose in her throat, but she pushed it down and ran from the shout, she did not wish to end the lives of any uneducated human who had never heard of a Jewel Mane Dragon, nor did she have any wish to have a mob of angry humans come after her. A short distance away now, she paused to lick her mental wounds from the encounter. For as she was young in her life she had yet to learn that not everyone will pause to find out who you really where, they would often judge at what they first saw. Everyone has slipped up at one point, but while they can brush it off, the victim will never escape unscathed. Just ask Medea.