The Princess and the Dragon

Chapter 2: Enter the Dragon

 © Avalon Lee, 2014. All Rights Reserved.

Okay, it's my turn.

Fine, you impatient reptile.

Impatient? I've been very patient while you told your part. Besides, this is about where I meet you in the story.

Don't give it away!

Then let me tell it.

I never thought I'd hear a dragon use a whiney voice.

I was not whining! I swear I'm about to burn you to a crisp, you little magpie.

You wouldn't.

Yes, I would! I am a scary, ferocious dragon who . . . okay, fine. I wouldn't.

You big softie.

On with the story!

~~~

I felt the wind rush past my wings as I flew ever upward, reveling in the freedom of flight. I opened my eyes as I finally stopped beating my wings. I slowed to a stop and hung in the air, weightless, for an eternity. Then, the pull of gravity returned as I arced toward the earth below.

The slow-motion I had seemed to be trapped in was shattered as I dove to the ground. I grinned, baring my sharp fangs. I fell faster and faster, and yet I felt no fear; only excitement. I was a creature of the sky, a hunter of flame and tooth and claw. All feared me, and I feared none.

The hard earth drew perilously closer, and still I did not pull up. Wait for it . . . NOW! I snapped out my wings, feeling the burning strain in my muscles, and miraculously did not crash head-first into the dirt. Instead, I swooped back up to the sun. I let out a roar of jubilation, most likely scaring the earth-bound-creatures out of their wits. I smirked. I couldn't help but show off sometimes—but only a little.

Luckily for me, I was flying over an uninhabited forest. Well, a forest uninhabited by two-legs. Two-legs were dangerous animals. They looked like no other animal any dragon had seen before, according to the stories. They were small, and rather fragile. But they were smart—very smart. With their strange little paws, they could create things the likes of which no dragon could imagine. It was these knick-knacks that made them so dangerous. Kill-sticks, shoot-kill-sticks, and rock-throwers could easily down a dragon. The first thing every dragon learned as a hatchling—two-legs were not to be trusted.

The only contact most dragons had with two-legs was during attacks. The elders liked to recount stories of how the Dragon War had started. I never really listened, but what they mostly said was that in the time of the first dragons, there was a terrible tragedy caused by the two-legs that all the dragons avenged with war. And around the time of my hatching, yet another tragedy had occurred. Unfortunately, we found out that the two-legs were really, really stubborn, and they refused to give up. Stubborn to the point of suicidal stupidity. The only advantages they had were their kill-things and sheer numbers. Dragons have never been very common, living in scattered clans. So the War continued on and on, to this day.

I was now gliding lazily, skimming the tree tops. I turned my head and spotted the two-leg-stone-hold in the distance. I had learned the hard way never to go near there. It was where the two-leg King resided. He was known to all dragons as the Evil One, for truly his heart was evil and cold as stone. His real name was unknown; no dragon had ever bothered to learn it. He was the most dangerous of the two-legs, as he would no sooner look at a dragon than kill it.

However, when I was a hatchling, news came to the dragons of the Evil One's offspring. Fear filled every one of our species, for the child would undoubtedly be as merciless as its father. And now, the hatchling would be nearly full-grown, and had had fourteen springs to be trained by its father.