Sacred Flame Bound to the Dragon Kings

My parents and I set out on one of our cross-country treks. My three-year-old self assumes that this is something that they have done every year, but I am uncertain of that now. It was getting dark and I was very sleepy. I don't even remember my mother taking me out of my car seat. What I do remember is her singing about a princess who was brave and strong. She sang of a mythical land of magic and fairy tales. My father would hum along too. I felt so safe with them, but isn't that how a child is supposed to feel?

Anyway, as I was dozing in my mother's embrace, I remember hearing growling and a roar. But when I opened my eyes, I only saw blackness. I felt eerily cold, too. So, so cold. It was a damp coldness that seeps into your soul, freezing it. I remember rubbing my arms, and that's when my sight fully returned.

I looked down, only to notice that I was rubbing blood on my arms. I felt so scared as I stared at my red, trembling hands. I sensed something, so I turned my head from side to side, but discovered that I was alone. Alone in the dark woods in the dead of the night. Then I heard a group of unfamiliar voices. A tall, burly man cautiously approached me as if he feared me. I was a three-year-old little girl alone in the woods, covered in blood. What is there to fear?