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Short Story: S 5 P 3 - "Fire in the Blood"

I don’t remember much of my life before the wagon train to execution.
Everything is hazy, as if I had no existence until then. But the blade of a steel axe rising high above my head, I distinctly recall. The smell of copper dripping from the last poor bastard to kneel upon the stained wood beneath me. The stench of horses. Mud. Gravel.
Brimstone.
When fire unexpectedly exploded around us, raining in a torrent of deadly chaos....I felt something within me come alive. This fever, igniting, under my sizzling flesh. It filled my senses, rushing my veins like growling ecstasy. I ached with a knowledge I couldn’t grasp into words.
But I can comprehend it vibrating in my bones.
It is what whispers to me now as I drive my axe forward, striking soft pebbled scales in a frantic blow for survival. That consuming molten honey humming in my muscles, chanting ‘kin of my kin, blood of my blood’, while massive sharp teeth snap and snarl at circling soldiers.
My heart constricts, knowing this magnificent creatures pain. Its anguish. Its divided hunger for life and death. I scream internally at is weakening aggression.
I want it to fight! To breath in the smoke billowing from its nostrils and let loose another powerful blast of consuming hell. I need it to! For we are but monsters locked in a battle of nature. I, a captive to a flame I cannot contain, and this massive ancient soul, a herald to my calling.
Hurt with me, oh great Sky King, so we can be free!
Give yourself!
Fill my essence with pulsing inferno!
Heat my clay colored skin by the divine of your soul, so I may continue flickering like smoldering coals!
Hurt with me, oh great Sky King!
Set us free!
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