As I paged through the books my great grandmother kept in the attic, this one stood out the most. Wiping the dusty cover with the palm of my hand, I opened to the first ratty, yellowed page and traced the outline with the tip of my finger.
One could see that this book was ancient. Grandmother May used to tell us stories about her.
The dragon rider.
In my mind I could always picture her; the dragon flying overhead with the little girl clutching on for dear life as she raced to get back home before he got there....
The flames were visible from where she was and the trees shook as the earth vibrated. A deafening roar forced a desperate gasp from her lips.
She had to make it!
A strong willed little one, a spear the length of a courser –which is how it received its name- on her left hip, and a small dagger sheathed in the finest leather that her own money couldn't buy, on the right. The dragons were few and far between these days but the creature massacring her town was known as the Chasseur–a hunter-. Oh, and he was very much hunting right then.
"Land, Land!" she screamed.
The dragon puffed out its wings, stilling the air and dropped onto his feet. In the same instance she slid from his back and ran toward the place she called home not so long ago. She had just rounded the corner when her father opened the door as if on cue. A blinding white light and heat combination propelled her down before darkness enveloped her. She could hear a guttural roar from the chest of the dragon cradling her. She had to get out! Her father needed her.
The dragon refused to let her go.
YOU ARE READING
The Dragon Rider -Short Story(Complete)
ФэнтезиIn the dusty pages of a well read book, tells a story of a girl that's never been heard before.
