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This one is something else entirely.
The wolf has a chance to leave. He has a chance to back off.
Just leave.
I know that if the wolf doesn’t go away, if he doesn’t back down, there’s going to be bloodshed, and it’s going to be his. One little wolf doesn’t stand a chance against a big, scary dragon.
It certainly doesn’t have a chance against a Fablestone dragon.
“This is your chance to back off, buddy.” The dragon gives him one more opportunity to leave.
The wolf doesn’t take it.
Instead, he leaps at the dragon man, but the dragon is much too quick. He, too, jumps into the air, and when he lands, he’s in his full dragon form.
The man is gone.
The monster has come.
*
When I was a little girl, my mother used to tell me fairytales. She’d tell me stories about knights in shining armor, princesses in far-away castles, and the dragons who threatened to destroy them all.
What she didn’t tell me was that sometimes, the dragons can be good.
She didn’t tell me that sometimes, the dragons are the heroes.
Today, my dragon is the hero.
He’s big: big and beautiful. I suppose I never thought a dragon could be pretty, but this one? Well, he’s got “pretty” down pat. He’s nearly as big as the cabin. I’m not sure if that’s large or small for a dragon, but he definitely towers over both me and the wolf. His scales are shiny and despite the dark hour of the night, I can see things reflected off them.
It’s the perfect camouflage.
Somehow, I can’t quite bring myself to breathe.
I don’t want to breathe and ruin this moment because right now, time feels like it’s standing still.
The wolf leaps at the dragon. He growls and jumps into the air, obviously aiming for the dragon’s heart. The dragon moves, though, and the wolf hits his arm. I see blood slowly seeping from the dragon and I realize the wolf hit him in a weak spot. Somehow, he managed to slice his arm.
A sound comes deep from the dragon’s throat. It’s a feral noise, a pained noise, and it’s one I don’t think I’ll ever forget. When I hear this sound, my heart stops beating, just for a minute, and I begin to cry.
I can’t lose him.
I’m not sure why this is the thought that fills my head.
I have no connection to this monster, no attachment to this creature, yet somehow, the idea of him dying fills my heart with sadness and my body with physical pain.
The idea of him dying hurts.
But I don’t have to worry.
The dragon pushes the wolf away with his arm and growls. A hint of flame comes from his mouth, but it doesn’t seem to scare the wolf. The dragon isn’t being very aggressive in this fight. He’s mostly playing defense, I realize, and I wonder why that is.
Maybe he doesn’t want to fight.
Maybe he wishes this would all just end.
When the wolf attacks again, the dragon hits him with his arm, and the wolf falls to the ground. He seems to have the wind knocked out of him because he lies on his back as the dragon moves over to him. Then the dragon closes his eyes for a moment. He takes a deep breath, and then he opens his eyes again. The dragon reaches out and he uses one very long, very sharp talon to slice the wolf’s throat.
