Hair Cloak: Fantasy

The ripple of golden hair streaming over the hoard was brilliant in the late autumn light. Dragon paused before loosing his fire, watching the shift of gold slide over his coins, his gems. An interesting tactic, he thought. He reached out one long claw and prodded the figure under the cloak of golden hair. A masculine yelp made the dragon raise one slow eyebrow and lean in closer to inspect the creature beneath the cloak. "Don't hurt me!" the man wailed. "I'm sorry, I got lost, I didn't mean--." He sprinted away, letting fall his cloak of golden hair. A single blast incinerated him with no trouble. The dragon sniffed the smell of roasting meat appreciatively and then lifted the cloak of golden hair with one claw to consider it.

Inspiration: Mmm, shiny.
Story Potential: Medium.
Notes: Not as humorous/light fantasy as this is written as. A woman is walking around out there with a horribly scarred scalp, maybe, or maybe just her hair cropped very short. The dragon becomes interested in this. Not a humorous, wise dragon of myth and lore, either--a different creature.