The Princess and the Dragon

Chapter 7: A Question of Sanity

© Avalon Lee, 2014. All Rights Reserved.

Rowan

Just when I had stopped fearing for my life, the red dragon dropped me to the ground. "Ow!" I rolled over onto my back with a groan. Luckily, I was still breathing. I had only fallen a short distance. "What was that for?"

"I need all four paws to land," said the dragon haughtily. I imagined that the daughters of nobles at the castle spoke with the same arrogance as she did. They certainly carried themselves the same way. With a gust of wind that nearly knocked me over, she flapped her wings a final time and landed.

I stayed where I was, wary of approaching her. Her ruby stare was fixated upon me again. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling like a mouse under the scrutiny of a hunting falcon. I folded my hands tightly in an attempt to stop their shaking. "So, your name is Qara?"

"Yes," the crimson dragon said shortly, looking in the opposite direction.

"T-That's a lovely name." My voice wavered, betraying my inner terror. "I'm Rowan."

Qara continued to look away in disinterest.

"You know, you're not at all like Rokevir," I said, my irritation getting the best of me. I crossed my arms. "Since we're stuck here for the time being, the least you could do is be polite." It dimly occurred to me that I was scolding a fire-breathing reptile--in essence, a death sentence.

Qara returned her gaze to me, disbelief written across her expression. "I'm glad I'm nothing like that big, blue grump," she said indignantly. She cocked her head, eyes narrowing. "I don't understand. Rokevir has always talked about killing two-legs in battle, and then I see him defending you. Why didn't he kill you? You're certainly an easy target."

"I beg your pardon!" I huffed.

"Well, you are," the dragon said bluntly. "Small, weak, slow . . ."

"Are you finished pointing out my flaws?" Her words were an unwelcome reminder of how weak I really was. But, I wouldn't let her have the satisfaction of knowing that.

"An easy meal . . ." she continued.

"What!"

"Perhaps it's because you're so different from the other two-legs," Qara mused, seeming not to hear me. Her posture was relaxed now, her eyes lowered to the ground. For once, she didn't look like she was about to pounce.

"Different how?" I pressed. "What two-legs have you met?"

"Warriors, mostly. I've never had, nor wanted, the chance to speak to an ordinary one. But it's not just that . . . you don't seem to fear dragons like the rest of your kind does."

"You, I'm scared of."

I could hear her mental laughter as I felt the vibration of her growl.

"That's because I've never had any reason to. Not all two-legs are warriors, and I assume the same goes for dragons." I paused, recalling the horror of the village attack. "But if I judged dragons as truly being the beasts they appear to be in battle, then yes, I would fear them."

Qara was silent for a long moment. When she finally spoke again, it was with a softness I hadn't sensed before. "Two-legs fear dragons and dragons fear two-legs because each has only seen the other on the battlefield."

It was a sobering truth.

"You know . . ." I began quietly, "I have never heard any stories of monstrous dragons. But they undoubtedly must have been told. I never even knew what a dragon was before I met Rokevir."