A Hawk's Shadow

The Battle

        The frozen awe of the creature was broken once it headed towards them. Alacrity grabbed Micah's hand, breaking his trance. The creature let loose another howl, and his stomach churned within him. The man looked for a place to hide from the winged creature and his eyes landed on a small opening at the base of the nearest hill. His feet started towards there and he dragged Micah along with him. It was a short distance from where they stood, yet it seemed to take longer to reach it than expected. Soon the creature was right behind them and they could hear every stroke of its wings and felt the displaced wind with each.
He threw Micah forward into the hole and the boy had enough sense to crawl into it without hesitation. The man unslung his bow and fired a rapid three arrows at the creature that he could now see with incredible detail.
        He could see the teeth that hung out of its mouth, and the amber-coloured eyes and the blacks of its pupils. He saw the scales that protected the slender body which narrowed to a point at the top. It was armour without a weak spot. The back had jagged spikes running to its tail and the size of the beast would make any normal man cower with fear. The body was the colour of blood, the reddest colour he had ever seen. Its claws were as large as his arm, and a brownish-black. Alacrity scrambled for the name of such a beast, and only came up with one word: dragon.
It landed, snow flying, and it eyed him and the bow that was in his hands, ready to loose another arrow. As it took a step forward, he raised the bow. He shot to where he thought the lungs may be or the heart and was disconcerted when the arrow bounced off, not leaving even the tiniest mark of where the arrow had hit. He aimed again for the same place, and the same result happened. He tried a third time, and that only seemed to anger the dragon.
        It opened its mouth wide, took a breath in, and spewed fire in a circle around him. If he wasn't scared before, he was now. He could feel the heat that radiated off the fire of gold and yellow and red. He would have found it beautiful if it had happened under any other circumstance. Now, it was just terrifying. Despite the fear that ruptured through him, coursing in his veins, in his blood, he held his ground. He was aware that Micah was screaming, or perhaps sobbing in the small cave.
At a loss of what to do, how defeat such a creature that had been only told about in legends and myths, he grabbed another arrow into his hand, and let it fly, this time aiming for under its wings. The dragon flapped its wings twice, rising. The arrows bounced off. It rose off of the ground about two feet and remained there. Its mouth opened wide for a second time, and orange flame flew out of the mouth. He ran out of the way, and narrowly missed being burned.
        "Well," he thought, trying to keep the fear from taking over, "everything is covered in those scales. My arrows can't pierce it. So what can they do?" He found that he already had an arrow ready to fire. His eyes found a place that wasn't covered in the armour made of scales. The eyes. In quick succession, he released four arrows. Two to the left eye and two to the right.
        The dragon roared, not howled, as the arrows hit their target. The ground shook briefly as it landed heavily upon it. Fire was flying everywhere and he ducked and rolled to escape the flames that were trying to reach him. With shock, he realized a moment later that his arrows had not affected the dragon. Both eyes were still intact, and he had to wonder what was protecting them. There was nothing as far as his eyes could see, but there must be something there.
        Once the dragon had stopped roaring fire towards him, he saw in its eyes a look that could only be described as hatred. Deep hatred that overwhelmed him as he looked at its eyes. The dragon opened its mouth again, and again a rain of fire came out. Alacrity was too late in moving, and flame burnt through his jacket, and then burned the skin on his arm into blisters. Searing pain ran up and down his body but he gritted his teeth together, and rose his bow again.
        Immediately after the fire disappeared, the cold air bit against his now bare skin, easing the heat off of it. The chill provided needed relief from the heat that reminded him of a sunburn, one that was unbearably hot and extremely severe. He was certain that eventually it would become too cold to leave it out in the open. Frostbite was what came to mind as he thought about all the hazards of bare skin in minus twenty-five weather.
        The snow around him was melting from the erratic heat, just enough for it to become sticky and sticky enough for it to become stuck on his boots. The bow was still raised, and he had only five arrows left in his quiver, it was time to make his shots count. Eyes don't work. Body is protected. But, as the dragon opened its mouth again, an idea wiggled into his thoughts, "A body that is hard on the outside, may be soft on the inside." Then the fire came for him once again. He ducked and rolled. That was when he realized that the dragon had been slowly moving closer and closer. In fear, he released an arrow, and another, one on both sides of its wings, and it took a step back, even though it couldn't be hurt. He just wanted it to keep its distance from him.
        The man muttered under his breath about what a waste that was, as he now only had three arrows, and his chances were becoming less and less with each shot. Perhaps this was the way he was supposed to die. At the hands of a beast most thought to be a legend. There was bravery in that- as long as he stood here and kept on fighting. Otherwise he would be a coward, too scared to fight for his own life- and for the life of that young boy in there.
        The fear of the dragon was soon non-existent. He accepted that he was going to die, but to die with a fight. He looked at the snarling creature, the fearsome thing that it was. He took a step towards it, and then was startled back like a frightened hare when it took a swipe at him with its claws. Alacrity hadn't expected that, as it had only fought with its fire before. He watched the claws warily, and had another arrow nocked in his bow.
        But the dragon, it seemed was done with fire, and wanted to fight with its claws. The dragon let out a low snarl, and then howled, the sound sending his head bursting from the sheer volume of it. It stepped towards Alacrity, and started snapping its teeth. In a swipe, it had Alacrity on his back, and a step forward, he was trapped between its claws. The claws were scalding hot. It was as if the dragon itself was burning up. It lifted its head upwards and seemed to take a breath, readying itself for a final burst of flames, to end his life.
        Then a screech sounded in the valley, a sound that Alacrity knew well. It was the sound of his beloved hawk. Kindle dived at the dragon, and landed on its head. The dragon roared at the little bird, but the hawk held on, his talons gripping the dragon tightly. In its effort to throw of the hawk, it eased off the man long enough for him to grab his knife and try to plunge the knife into its foot. He wedged it between two of the hand-sized scales and shoved upwards, and the dragon roared, instantly beating its wings and rising into the air. The knife rose with it, stuck between two of the scales.
        Alacrity realized that he might not actually be dead. He had a chance of surviving this. He had injured the dragon, he had done it. Which meant there was a chance of survival. With new found hope, Alacrity nocked an arrow once again. The dragon was snapping its teeth at Kindle and Kindle was just managing to stay out of its reach. Alacrity waited for the next time the mouth was open, and shot the arrow straight and true- only for the mouth to be clamped shut a second too soon. Another slender arrow with black feathers and a pointed tip was placed once again in the oak bow. The last arrow had reminded the dragon that the man was there, and it was now staring at him in a fierce glare. He looked into those amber eyes surrounded by deep red just as it was staring at his own eyes. It was an effort to not look away from the stare.
        Then the dragon reared back, and lunged at him. He was ready for it, and had backed up enough to efficiently escape the claws that would probably slice him in two. The white area around the dragon had melted, a pool of water just underneath it, and the water was starting to boil and steam. It was a sight to behold. In the middle of winter there was water steaming outside.
        The dragon opened its jaws again and this time fire flew out, burning the arrow before it had time to reach inside the dragon. His plan didn't work; he had one arrow, and only his wits to face this colossal beast.
        'My plan doesn't work yet,' he reminded himself. He had one more arrow. That was all that mattered. He pulled back the string of his bow, a strong string, one that hadn't broken on him even when he used his strength to the full. He pulled on it more, the tip of the arrow almost behind the bow, and waited, his arms willing him to let go and be done with it, his burned arm groaning with pain. But he waited, taking a step back until his foot hit the steep slope of the hill. The dragon, believing him to be cornered, started building up the fire inside of it. Smoke started coming out of its nostrils, and still he waited. The string was straining, and he willed it to hold for a little longer. He waited for the mouth to open up, to release the arrow that was ready to fly.
        On he waited, and then the mouth started to open. Before the dragon had a chance to discharge the explosion within, the arrow flew straighter and truer than ever before and hit the back of the throat that was beginning to glow orange. The arrow, struck, and the dragon howled that haunting sound that echoed of the walls of the bowl, and its last flame flew from its mouth only to sputter out as the fearsome creature exhaled its last breath.
        Alacrity looked at the dragon. Its eyes had closed, and he realized then what a beautiful and majestic creature it was. The red, and its amber coloured eyes would haunt him in his dreams. He soon became aware of slight crying, and he remembered that Micah was here with him, in the cave, and probably extremely cold.
        "Micah?" he said to the boy. "The dragon is gone. It's safe to come out."
        Micah peered out. Seeing the body of the dragon unmoving, he became braver and ventured out into the open where the moon still shone brightly in the sky and made the snow in the Yosemite Valley sparkle with a queer shine. The valley was still silent.
        Alacrity observed the boy's state. Wet still, and shivering. He was visibly shaking through that bulky winter coat. 'A fire, we will need a fire.' Then, his eyes fell upon the pool of water below the dragon. He took off one of his gloves lined with goose down, and held it to the dragon. As he moved it closer, his hand warmed. Then he touched the dragon and a sharp burn feeling raced through his hand. The dragon was a fire on its own.
        "Micah, come lean on the dragon." He turned and looked at Micah when he didn't comply. He looked at the fearful face. He was obviously still scared of the dragon. So the man moved towards Micah and pushed him forwards. He made it so Micah was right next to the dragon, and the water that had soaked his clothes started to melt from their stiff, frozen posture and then began to dry.
Kindle had settled on his shoulder once again and was nuzzling his head on his. It didn't feel right without his bird perched on his shoulder. He began to stroke the bird's head, and he fluffed out his chest with happiness.
        Micah was almost completely dry now, though the shivering hadn't stopped. He wasn't sure if it was from being in close proximity of the dragon he had heard tales that inspired and instilled fear in, or if it was really just from being cold. They remained there for a while longer until the need to grab his pack was greater on his mind than the concern for Micah's well-being. The pack had all of his supplies, food and a few special things. Without it- without it, it would be dire.
        With Micah tagging along, Alacrity walked out to the side of the lake where he had left his pale, green bag. He hefted it onto his shoulder and Kindle resettled on top of the thick strap. After glancing back at Micah who was dawdling behind, he realized that the young boy may be tired. The moon was high in the sky, closer to the morning than to the evening. Micah didn't even seem to be walking on his own two feet. "Micah, we'll continue to Erani in the morning. Let's rest for a moment." Micah sank to the ground and fell asleep almost immediately. Alacrity searched for firewood, and found a few branches that would do. With careful precision, he built a small fire. Before he closed his eyes to sleep, he found an extra scarf, blue, in his bag and wrapped it around the hole in his jacket. That would protect it enough for now.

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I hope you enjoyed the battle, I found it pretty epic to write and enjoyed it a ton.
In case you hadn't realized, that is a picture of a dragon up above. It has the colour right, and I decided fairly quickly that I liked the picture.