Rain and grains of hail bounced off her hide with a metallic ting, falling to the cobblestones below. Solidified iron draped over her crouched form, holding her in place and burning her skin every second of every day, eyes propped open, ears half-blocked, muscles aching to stretch and open her wings to fly away. She caught the scent of greasy hamburgers and fries and her claws twitched. So hungry. A teen boy pointed up at her, waving his food. "Ooh, scary gargoyles!"
One day, she thought. Five hundred seven years of her sentence complete, only nine more to go.