Draco swore. "Shit. Hey, look here. I may be a dragon but you have no idea what i could or could not possibly understand. Im not going to kill anyone." He took Ink out of his neck hollow and set her down gently. He then shifted to his human form and scrubbed his eyes and pulled the arrow out of his thigh where it had landed. "Sonofabitch!" He spit in his hand and rubbed it in the wound. It healed in a matter of minutes leaving a faint scar.

He coughed as he watched Ink begin to stir. He placed a soothing hand of her forehead and she stilled, sighing in her sleep. Draco noted how impossibly black her hair was. She was pretty but she wasnt his type. But maybe she would prove to be a loyal friend instead. He stood and stretched, pulling his wings out of his back through the specially designed slits in his jacket and waited for the others to get their bearings. 

Draco remembered the fear on the first hunters face and unwillingly remembered his time on the streets. Every day had beem a struggle to find enough food to fill his belly, learn to control his dragon and stay alive. He had had to learn to fight dirty to prevent himself from being beat to death by street gangs, muggers, and typical everyday crooks and bullies that would kill you just for the shirt off your back.