Nestled beneath the ground in a hidden corner of the world lies an egg.
Many creatures lay eggs, but this one is, perhaps, special. The size of a backpack, the being inside it is already thinking. Already thrumming with magic and potential. For this is a dragon egg.
The first moment she is aware of is a slow realization, like a dream, like Nothingness bleeding imperceptibly slowly into Something.
She is alone. Alone, and surrounded on all sides by a Wall. It presses steadily, total and complete.
She has no memories to guide her, no context for the thoughts that form slowly, ever so slowly, but she does realize this: The Wall surrounding her is obviously, inherently Good.
Slow, indolent thoughts eddy inside the egg as the developing dragon ponders her existence inside the tiny egg-chamber and discovers such wonders as her own heartbeat, the difference between sleeping and wakefulness, and the ability to twitch her limbs (as well as the fact that she has six: A head and long neck, a coiling tail, two legs, and two wings that end in a hand tipped with dexterous claws).
Eventually, she hears a Voice. At first it was simply a strange sensation unfolding across her mind. A gentle, slow sensation of something she had no words for. It slides across her mind, shifting slowly between impressions she begins to recognize after enough time. Flashes of orange, of warmth, sleepy love surrounding her like another Wall. A comforting taste of brimstone.