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“You can have it!” I scream back, staggering to my feet and running diagonally toward the path and the stubborn baby dragon. Pulse fluttering, I take short, heaving breaths.
“Mine!”
“I heard you the first time,” I say on a pant. Three giant lunging steps later, I scoop Prometheus up and pivot, sprinting down the path. The wooden mallet brushes over my hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Prometheus growls and scrambles to my shoulder. Hissing and spitting tiny puffs of smoke and fire at the cyclops. I use one hand to pin the dragon in place while the other pumps at my side, desperately trying to help my legs go faster.
“My mountain,” it growls. The ground shakes under the assault of its heavy feet.
“I said you can have the mountain. Take it, you big, one-eyed jackass. It’s yours!” My side aches, but I don’t slow down, and I definitely don’t glance behind me. I can’t afford to trip.
Prometheus nuzzles my cheek.
“Not now, baby. We have to run from the giant monster who wants to kill us,” I say but then realize the ground isn’t shaking anymore. Hazarding a look over my shoulder, I check to see how close it is, but it’s nowhere to be seen. I skid to a stop and suck in a sharp breath of thin mountain air and swipe my arm over my forehead. A soft breeze rolls over my skin, and I shiver despite the sweat covering my body. Even with the sun out, it’s a little chilly up here.
The ground trembles, and my heart skips. “Time to go,” I tell Prometheus and start running again.
* * *
Runningdown a mountain isn’t as bad as it seems. Momentum carries me most of the way, but when I finally decide to stop, that’s where the trouble comes. The sandals aren’t exactly skid proof, and I start to fall back, but Prometheus’ talons dig into the fabric of my shirt, and it flaps its wings. By a tiny feat of strength, the little thing saves me from a sore bottom.
“You’re so strong,” I coo, running my palm over its head as it perches on my shoulder. My muscles twitch from overuse. I don’t think I’ve ever run this far in my entire life. My skin is slick and grimy from sweat and dirt. The thundering of my heart makes it impossible to tell if the base of the mountain is shaking. I suck in much needed oxygen, waiting to see if the cyclops charges around the final curve of the path. It doesn’t. I release a full body sigh.
Good. We’re safe for now.
Glancing up, I take note of the sun’s position. From what I’ve observed, time, while it passes by faster, is generally the same here as it is on Earth, so it should be around noon—or whatever they call it here.
The tree laden path shoots to the left and the right. The magic village is to the right. I turn and head left, hoping I’m not making a bad decision. Prometheus nudges my cheek.Hungry. I grimace. We’re out of food. I’ve never foraged in my life and I’d probably end up poisoning us. A bird swoops past and Prometheus growls at it.
“I have an idea.” I grab the dragon around the middle and hold it out in front of me. “Wait for another bird, and when one flies by, imagine you’re the biggest dragon there is with the biggest flame, okay?”
Hungry.
“Yup. Give it a moment.” I stay as still as I can, only moving my gaze around. A bug zips in front of Prometheus, and the dragon snatches it out of the air with its talons and shoves it into its mouth.
Well. I guess that works too.
The good thing about traveling through the forest is there are plenty of insects. Prometheus catches a few more bugs and purrs in contentment. We’ll have to try the manifesting big dragon fire later. I reposition the baby and continue walking. The pad of my foot rubs over the sandals. The last thing I need is blisters. I could take them off, but then there’s no telling what I might step on. While they weren’t made for long excursions, I’ll have to deal with it. I can’t end up with shredded feet, or worse, some type of monstrous poison oak.
The soft tinkle of wind chimes stops me a little while later. I tip my head and listen. The chime grows louder. A lump lodges in my throat. Someone is coming. The only other monsters I’ve encountered have either wanted me dead or wanted to argue with my mate about obligations. Unsure of what to expect, I dart off the path and into the trees, tucking myself behind the largest trunk.
“Oi, you!” The accent is oddly reminiscent of UK punks and I half expect to find Johnny Rotten charging after me.
I peek out from behind the tree, glance around, and draw away from the trunk with a scrunched face. There’s no one there.
“Oi!”
My gaze snaps to the creature with vibrant green hair who stands no more than a foot tall. Straps from the wagon are fastened to its overalls and there are little pans dangling from the side of the cart.
“Yeah, I’m talking to ya, folk,” it says with a scoff. “What’re ya doin’ runnin’ off from me like that? Got somethin’ against trulls?”
The lines on my forehead deepen. “Trolls?”
“Slap my ass and call me Coco, how many times do I have to explain this to yer type? We’re trulls, not trolls. Trolls are garish creatures with hardly any fat. Not to mention they’re ugly and bald. Trulls have hair and are cute and tiny. And—” It slaps its round belly. “See that, eh?” it asks, turning to the side to show me how its belly ripples from the smack. “That is 100% trull.”
“Itisa nice belly,” I admit.
“That’s a lass!” The trull flashes sharp teeth at me. “Now, answer my question or I’ll gouge yer eyes out with my big toe nail.”
