It’s an undead baby dragon, produced by a failed magical spell. It probably would be cute if it weren’t partially decayed.

Young dragons are relatively defenseless. They are born with relatively soft scales, which are shed and replaced with harder ones as the hatchling matures. Once a hatchling’s wings grow in, it typically marks the beginning of maturation. At this point they are often capable of hunting on their own and are usually left alone by their mother.

For years, a sweet Autumn hatchling by the name of Powderleaf frolicked along the clan's caves. He adored leaves of all kinds, and even the fresh snow of winter couldn't dampen his spirits.

Indeed, it was playing by a fresh pile of autumnal detritus that Powderleaf was last seen, on a crisp Halloween afternoon...

His loss has been dearly mourned, but whispers abound among the clan that his disappearance may be linked to the appearance of another—a shambling hatchling who emerges on autumn nights, dry leaves clinging to its patchy hide. It scrabbles faintly at the hatchery's entrance for hours, mewling softly, but nobody dares let it inside.