Departure

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"Dragon!"

As many fled, a small blacksmith rushed out of his shoppe, shield and sword in hand; behind him rushed a monk, wielding a shield and sword forged in glass. Whether or not it would be effective was idle chatter, for the red dragon slowly fluttered in front of them, perching softly on the ground far across from them. The monk made to move first, but the blacksmith held him back, for both could see the dragon's eyes drawn to the glass shield.

"What brings you here, demon of fire?" The dragon gave a deep breath, which the two small beings took as an attack, for her breath was still as hot as a common stovetop.

"Where did you get that shield of glass?"

"'Twas from my grandfather, who laughed at the tale of a dragon bearing gifts. But he said it saved his life during the war, so he kept it as an heirloom, and I inherited it."

"Does he still live?"

"Nay, for he passed several winters before, raving about a dragon coming to steal his finest work. He did not speak of you being as red as the evening sun, dragon."

"Pity; I had hoped to meet a friend's master, but time passes differently between you mortals and I. Still: I come for what is mine, and would rather not raze this village I protected so many winters before."

"So the tales were true: that his glass was forged with the breath of a dragon. No wonder I could never learn the skill of his trade; for he crafted metal, and not glass. Pray, dragon, could I trade you this shield and sword for the knowledge to make them? For even my assistant here knows of glass, but I have not made anything as great as this shield."

"It is a fair trade, for I aim to leave this world with that sword and shield as my last treasure, as man wears on my conscience."

So for one more winter, the dragon taught both the blacksmith's grandson and the monk the skills she had learned from her apprentice. And once all the skills had been passed, she closed off the cave from the world outside, never to return to that world filled with greed. 

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