Long ago, it was said that humans were friends with dragons. It is thought that humans and dragons once walked on an equal ground of peace, their lifestyles intertwined, humans and dragons coexisting in unity and friendship. Humans healed dragons from illnesses that would otherwise have caused death, and dragons allowed humans the gift of flight, their powerful wings imbued with potential to go places beyond a human’s imagination. There weren’t the constant struggles for supremacy, or the endless battles to prove that one race was stronger and better than the other. There wasn’t the constant worrying of one group attacking another, the constant fear of being pierced to death or going up in flames. It was peaceful; it was perfect.

That must have been a very long time ago.

Cally gritted her teeth, elbows scrunching  in an accordion-like motion to propel herself upwards another centimeter on the jagged cliff face. Her hair swung in wispy chords down her back, her silver ponytail an annoying itch that plagued her with its irritating presence. The rest of the world spanned out below her, treetops bobbing in various heights along the ground, forming a dark, uneven carpet that covered the entire expanse of forest. Below her ravens cawed, unaware of her predicament and need to focus; occasionally, a few flitted around her head, chirping ominous songs of death that made her climbing shed much of its efficiency. Night was her best friend, saturating the air with a vantablack hue that obscured her from view.

Far above her, Cally’s fellow Perditha climbed steadily with indomitable efficiency and speed, her muscled limbs reaching tirelessly towards the dark sky. She did so by driving twin daggers into the side of the cliff, then slipping them out consecutively and vigorously reinstalling them several feet higher; the Perditha, the kingdom’s dragon fighters, were known for being agile, for being quick. The title was also the word for “lost” in latin; Perdithas weren’t known for surviving long.

Cally was climbing the hard way, unlike her determined friend, Ivy. Her fingers were riddled with cuts, bruises, and patches of gravel. Ivy, as a reward for her effort, was almost to the top; Cally, fulfilling all self-expectation, had a long way to go. Crickets chorused mournfully and at random intervals, like a dysfunctional orchestra stumbling through a minor song. The moon was a leering smirk, its glowing sneer chastising her for her slowness. She scowled up at the moon, taking a moment to glare at the glowing tear in the inky black tapestry of the sky. Smaller holes were poked surrounding the moon….stars. They filled up the sky in scattered clumps, making it look like someone had splatter painted the sky with ivory. Cally blinked, shaking her head to release her sweaty bangs from her forehead; then she remembered she had a job to do. 

Spurred on by the reminder, Cally’s boots filed up the rocky surface, her hands stealing out in the dark to capture whatever she could hold to pull herself up; several minutes of voracious climbing put her only a few feet below her friend, who was still methodically stabbing her way up the cliffside. Cally panted, the surge of effort molding layers of pain into her aching muscles. Yet she persevered, loping up the cliff face in clumsy, aching strides, her arms feeling as if they were being stabbed repeatedly with Ivy’s sharp daggers; she released a soft groan, which echoed into the empty night and was lost in the grating hoots of a choir of owls somewhere in the distance. Cally’s sword dug into her side, its metallic presence radiating a chilling cold into her rib cage. It was still dark and getting darker; Cally’s tired arms seemed to be driving paths through thick oceans of tar, desperately reaching for a handhold poking through the thick darkness. Her hand closed around a cone-shaped rock that stuck out like a horn on the monstrous looming cliff. Cally swung her feet up, finding a brief moment of rhythm in the chaos of her tangled limbs. She moved in step with Ivy, arms and legs reaching to fill up the space measured by the trail of holes left in Ivy’s wake. She crawled alongside the holes, grabbing and pulling and gradually reaching Ivy’s level, where she turned and shined a quick smile of triumph on her friend.

Ivy’s hand lay limp against her sweaty forehead, though not to rest; she was scouting out the horizon, her grass-green eyes analyzing what lay ahead with a scrupulous focus. Unlike Cally, Ivy was not easily distracted and had an iron will that was stronger than her lithe daggers; she was the epitome of what a good Perditha should be- dedicated and loyal and strong as a tiger. A hit from her had the force of a freight train; she threw punches like she was born with her hands curled into fists, and every kick she placed was aimed and executed with deadly accuracy. Ivy was a weapon, fiery and fierce, and she was the strong one on their team of two. She prefered fighting her enemy close up, but sometimes she resorted for the more deceptive skill of burying her daggers into the body of her victim. Cally, unlike Ivy, fought as unfairly as possible. She wasn’t strong, but she was lithe and quick. She wasn’t powerful, but she compensated for her lack by stealing every advantage she could hold over her enemy. She backstabbed, rolled, and tripped (the enemy, of course, sometimes herself too, but that was irrelevant). Her weapon, a large gleaming sword with a designed bronze hilt, slashed and dismembered with the same graceless force that she herself employed in battle.

Cally slipped and swung her feet together, her sword colliding hollowly against her thigh, and the thick heels of her boots clanking noisily against each other as both of her feet accidently gave up their positions and came to a grinding halt beneath her shaking arms. She reached her left arm through the obsidian-colored atmosphere, fingers reaching out and coming up empty. There was nothing left of the cliff!  Silver stars hung like diamonds up above, glittering, mocking her weakness and inability to move. Her fingers flailed in panic in the cold air.

For a terrifying moment in time, Cally’s entire weight was concentrated on her right arm, and pinpricks of intense pain drove a thousand sharp needles into her muscles; her left hand curled, fingers bent and hovering over nothing. Weightless, Cally felt the wind tugging her hair back as it gently coaxed her into a fall; for a moment in time, Cally hung over a distant floor of vague treetops, feet about to push off, her aching arm releasing its hold on life one aching finger at a time. Pain blinded her, swarming her vision and filling up the darkness in front of her with a pulsing wall of red; Cally’s right arm finally gave out, thrusting back emphatically and surrendering her to gravity’s clutches; she would have plummeted to her death that instant had a hand not reached down from above and wrapped around hers, yanking her up and depositing her in a clumsy heap on the top of the cliff.

“Come on,” Ivy whispered, her bright green eyes glinting through the dark with determined energy. She reached out again and hauled Cally to her feet, her strength making the motion seem effortless and Cally seem as weightless as a stick figure cut out of paper. In one fluid motion, Cally and Ivy turned in unison to observe the ominous cliff that loomed before them. The cliff was an arch of stone, cold and thick and shrouded in a thin coat of moonlight that spilled down from the sky and highlighted the dust and gravel that coated the jagged cave’s exterior; inside the cave darkness loomed like a pulsing heart, dangerous and foreboding, radiating an aura of danger and throbbing terror. Cally backpedaled, her footsteps resounding against the ground as she readied herself with several deep breaths. Ivy ran for the darkness, her red hair a rippling flag as she headed for the inky black hole in firm, quiet strides. Cally, with much more caution, loped with gentle footsteps towards the daunting dark, her hand glued to the hilt of her gleaming sword.

Suddenly, Ivy shrieked, her pale freckled face suddenly illuminated by a burst of flaming light; a ball of fire burned a hole in the atmosphere, striking a match against the thick darkness of the night. Ivy plunged backwards, fingers automatically reaching up to stroke the scorched end of her ponytail, which was now several inches shorter due to exposure to scorching flames. Cally rushed to her friend’s side, observing and calculating to discover with relief that her friend was not hurt, only singed and startled. “This one’s dangerous,” Ivy whispered; she glanced at the cave, which had returned to its gloomy dark state, devoid of flaming spheres. “ And….” she paused, her expression shifting as her brain fumbled for words. She continued, decidedly, “Different. Very different.”

Ivy paused again, then opened her mouth with a serious expression, her face forming the implacable position that spoke of a subsequent lecture when Cally held up a hand to cut her off.

Cally straightened her posture, trapped a single strand of silver hair behind her ear, then tried to sound confident when she said, “ You’re going to say something noble, aren’t you? I can handle this, trust me. “ She opened her mouth to continue, racking her brain for proof that she was as strong and capable as she claimed.

Ivy saved her from the resulting silence by commanding,  “ I can do this. You just wait for me to come out, maybe come in if you hear me screaming….But don’t go in first, ok? Ok?” The repetition of “ok” was received by empty air; Cally was already running, bolting as if she were running across a lake of fire, sprinting as if her life depended on it. “Cally! Cally, stop! You’re going to get yourself killed! “Cally let the words follow her into the cave; she marched through the jagged stone entrance, steps resounding as her boots met the uneven, rocky surface of the cave floor. The cave was commodious, a gigantic dwelling for the massive pit darkness that filled the cave to overflowing and spilled outside, becoming one with the black night. The ceiling was too high to be visible at night, even with the faint sliver of moonlight that impaled the dark outside. Wind whispered through the trees, the faint sound echoing through the cave in a wave of thrumming hisses. Ivy stomped in behind her, instantly barging in front of her to shield her from any potential fiery projectiles that might travel their way.

“Hello?”  Cally glared up at the ceiling of the cave, a wave of annoyance threading an angry tone into her voice when she yelled, louder: “Hello? I just climbed a cliff to find this place and kill you!” The noise echoed, shrill and piercing in the silence. Ivy made strangled shrieking voices in her throat. “You should at least have the decency to show up!” At that point, Ivy clamped iron fingers around Cally’s mouth, cutting off the flow of sounds to highlight the silence, leaving only the dull thrumming of birds chirruping and leaves being pushed around by the wind. Quiet. Calm. Then fury.

The air was suddenly saturated with the pulsing sound of wingbeats, whooshing with unimaginable strength and dumping tides of air onto Cally and Ivy. Ivy’s breath was warm in her ear, whispering,” Run.”  Cally might have been terrified, but she wasn’t a coward. She swept sweaty strands of her thin silver hair behind her ear, wiping her clammy palms against her rough, dirt-covered jeans. She nailed her legs into the ground like thick metal columns and readied her sword in a moist, constantly readjusting grip; her blue eyes sifted through the darkness to capture a creature moving at the top of the cave. Darkness made clarity impossible, but Cally could make out a vague shape that had been silently lurking in the center of the top of the cave. She saw coils of thick muscle that  covered the half of the surface area of the cave’s ceiling, contorting and contracting and unwinding into a shape that grew closer and dangerously nearer.

A crescendo of battering wingbeats announced the arrival of the dragon. It was massive, tearing a hole in their field of vision and dominating the cave with its array of leathery wings and overlapping metallic scales. Then came a flash of glinting fangs, two large ones at the top of its mouth, two small ones peeking out towards the bottom of its enraged scowl; the dragon roared, the ground of the cave vibrating with the pulsing grumble of fury that was accompanied by a bright flash of fire, which shot out like an arrow swarming with tones of yellow, orange, and red, swerving and twisting until it hit a corner of the cave and ignited a small fire that burned steadily.

Cally watched from the ground, her heart palpitating; the light warmed her face and and reflected a burning streak in her eyes as she gaped, having been shoved to the cold stone floor by Ivy just moments before. Ivy crouched by her, singed ponytail whipping back and forth as her green eyes flashed anxiously, her pale face rotating at the speed of lightning to follow the path of five more flames shot after another set of angry bellows. Every streak of flames was followed by a thundering crackle, light consuming patches of twigs and coal to form burning patches in all the corners of the room. The tongues of flame licked at the air, emitting an incandescent aura of warm light; their pulsing glows filled the cave, the dark shrinking back as the air filled with a gentle yellow. Cally stood up, involuntarily sucking in a breath; the dragon was  beautiful, not sickly and icy, like the first dragon she’d fought, or oily and slippery and eelike like the second. This one, however, possessed an ethereal beauty unlike anything she’d ever seen. This dragon was fire. Its scales were a mosaic of metallic red and orange, sprinkled with an occasional smattering of gold. The fire glinted off its majestic dinner plate-sized scales; its talons were curved like silver crescents, gleaming and scraping against the ground as it shifted its powerful legs and folded up its wings behind its back. There was a great torrent of rustling sounds as the dragon’s wings contracted and folded neatly until they were parallel to its back. The dragon flexed its front legs, muscles rippling in the thick, tree-trunk shaped columns. Its eyes were pools of amber, dark and fierce, reflecting miniature forms of the fire burning in the cave and Cally’s gaping face. Its shining metallic scales shone, flickering with their fiery hues. The dragon shifted slightly, fixing its intense golden gaze on her. This dragon was beauty. This dragon was power.

This dragon was miserable.

Pain flashed through the dragon’s fierce eyes, glinting in the intimidating amber and giving the dragon a fierce look softened by melancholy. The dragon did not move, though it occasionally exposed its slender, sharp fangs, and simply fixed her with its unusual stare. The look held tiredness, if you looked deep enough, desperation, if you bothered to notice. Cally could tell, just from those eyes. This dragon didn’t want to fight.

The dragon’s eyes flashed, the tangle of emotion lost as blazing rage claimed its angry gaze. It growled, a deep, low sound that filled the cave with minute vibrations that pulsed against the ground and into Cally’s boots. Plumes of smoke drifted in the air, filling the atmosphere with a light translucent haze and the faint smell of ash and combustion. Ivy’s head appeared over the dragon’s head, her friend’s boots snapping around to straddle the dragon’s neck as Ivy attacked with vengeance, punching the dragon’s neck and driving a dagger against its flinty exterior. She left the dagger there as the dragon howled, wasting no time in kicking at the dragon’s strong legs and slicing tallies of blood down its skin. The dragon roared, its tail whipping out to smack Ivy off its leg and onto the cold cave floor below. Ivy let out a small moan, rubbing bruised limbs and laying momentarily paralyzed beneath the dragon’s writhing tail. Cally drew her sword again, and this time she charged.

Her fighting instincts took over, every step a reflexive motion, every action just a part of a graceful routine; each movement flowed easily into the next, every motion dropping seamlessly into another attack or defense maneuver. Apparently, her vigorous training had actually paid off. Cally rolled, coming up with her sword in her hand and her pulse a raging roar in her ears. She lunged, glinting steel biting into the sliver of space between two of the dragon’s scales, piercing through its glowing armor and eliciting a groan of pure agony from the dragon. The dragon turned on her, its golden eyes suddenly bright with fury and that same unidentifyable emotion; Cally ducked, the dragon’s fiery blast a sparking column that singed her hair as it streamed overhead. Seeing its eyes again, Cally couldn’t help but wonder…..Did it really want to fight? Of course- all dragons did, didn’t they? Then why did this dragon seem so burdened and reluctant?

In the minute gap of her wandering thoughts, Ivy had sprung up despite multiple contusions and now employed her punches and kicks with unforeseen strength and tireless fury. Ivy’s fists rained down like hail, beating down into the dragon’s side until dents and fractures marked the dragon’s once-impeccable scales. Ivy sprung back to avoid the dragons returning tail, stepping back while flicking her wrist to send a sharp steel blade twisting through the air. The dagger flew, almost in slow motion, turning a full circle in the air before it started to descend. And both Ivy and Cally did what any human would do; the average gut reaction to slow, gently arcing objects that are falling to through the air.

They watched. Their eyes trailed the glinting steel, lit by firelight and diving gracefully downward.

While Ivy’s eyes flicked up for merely a second, that was just enough time for the dragon’s next fireball to hit home, engulfing the brave Perditha in a shell of warm flickering flames. If the air wasn’t already saturated with smoke, it definitely was now. Cally sensed the musky, dry texture fill the air and had just enough time to turn and glimpse her friend collapse; Ivy’s shrieks pierced her heart, black crawling up the girls light skin as it charred and flaked off as gray ashes, until the air was so filled with ash that the cave could have been under a gray blizzard of or in the inside of a colored snow globe. Cally felt tears sliding quickly down her face like rain on a car windshield. She could feel the sobs that racked her throat, salty tears choking her as she let out cries of agony. She could feel pain in her heart, a pulsing thrum that pattered with her heartbeat.  The dagger landed its target and sunk into the dragon’s back; Cally ran to her friend’s side, her hands trembling as tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, and she knelt by the pile of ashes, gently trailing her fingers over the fine gray dust; her tears splattered onto the ash, clear drops gently implanting themselves into the smoking powder. She turned to face the dragon, her rage a furnace that filled her, spreading heat into every bone of her body and streaming across every part of her soul, calling her sword to her hand.

Suddenly, she was fire. She was fury. She was vengeance.

Adrenaline raced in currents through her body, her sword moving like an extension of her arm; her running, jumping, and pivoting feet were in time with the rapid tempo of her heartbeat. Her anger burned and pulsed; she slashed out with her sword, a current of blood spraying her as her dagger cut into the dragon’s thick tail, slicing off its tip. The dragon growled and shot more flames, setting fire to Cally’s sleeve as it twisted its tail away from her. She rolled and came up, her sleeve smoking, her eyes burning from smoke and her refusal to blink. The world sharpened into high definition, pulling into focus. There was no cave, no crackling fire, nothing. There was only the battering of her mercilessly raging sword, the dragon, and her blazing fury. She attacked the dragon’s legs emphatically, making ridges and cuts with the side of her steel sword. The dragon lashed out with more flames, and she drew back, blood dripping from her sword onto the cave floor as she scrambled into a quick retreat. She then rushed at the dragon, a roar of fury gathering and intensifying in a deafening crescendo; her boots battered against the the floor with the sound of relentless thunder; her arms pulled up as her hands wound themselves around the warm hilt of her bloody sword….

And she jumped; her feet escaped gravity; her hair transformed into a tangled disarray, and her throat contracted into a shriek of rage which rose shrilly from her lips. She fell through the air, her sword falling over her head and lowering gradually, aimed right by the dagger that was her friend’s last strike. Cally descended rapidly, bringing her sword down at last, when suddenly her stomach contracted, and her breathing was cut off abruptly. She looked down to see the dragon’s tail coiled tightly around her waist, cutting off her air supply and tying her sword to her side. Some of the red in her vision faded, writhing and pulsing until it gently cleared from her view, pulling out some of her rage. She blinked and looked down. “I can’t move,” Cally observed, her voice small and strangled. The dragon’s raging amber eyes just stared, as if to say: Obviously. “ No! No, you don’t, you don’t understand!” Cally kicked at the dragon’s tail, aiming at the cut she had made earlier from which the trickle of blood had slowed. The tail remained in place, barring her from movement and disrupting her breathing. She gasped, sucking at the air like a fish out of water, then turned to the dragon’s face again, her slightly tanned skin brushed with sudden heat from the dragon’s exhales, which released gentle plumes of smoke into the already smoke-filled air. She tried again. “ I have to move, because you just killed my friend and I have to avenge her death. “She stared up at him, seriously. “I’m going to have to kill you now.”

The dragon seemed amused, a hint of fangs revealing a sliver of what could have been a smile had the dragon not suddenly released her and turned its face. It slowly started to stumble away, its powerful legs riddled with bruises and cuts, its tail dragging behind it on the cave floor. It drifted sullenly, a great beast with too many wounds to march proudly. The dragon ventured with caution, its footfalls gentle as it stepped with observance to its many wounds; as it loped, it moved away from her.

Cally wasn’t a fan of falling through the air; she hit the ground at an odd angle, her arms flattening under her to take the brunt of the impact. The introduction of her body to the cave floor was not a smooth one; she felt the vibrations from her fall in her every limb and aching muscle, and her right arm, which happened to be her sword arm, was screaming in explicit agony and leaking rivers of blood, which stained the air with a metallic scent. She snapped back her hand, which seemed to click into its place as her fractured wrist was righted and a fresh current of pain swept over her and held her under its waves. Cally called out through the veil of her intense torment: “I have to fight you! You killed her!” She ran after the dragon. “You killed her!!!!!”

“Of course I did,” the dragon replied with a deep, masculine voice that sent vibrations pulsing through the cave. Dragons could talk? This was new to her and unheard of in their kingdom. He continued  with, “She was trying to kill me.”

“I’m trying to kill you too,” Cally reminded, stomping one foot in what was admittedly a childish way, becoming desperate. “You have to fight me, so I can kill you!”

The dragon glared down at her. “You couldn’t kill me. You mind is not sharp enough to think logically, nor can you wield that sword of yours with anything that resembles skill, even more so now that your wrist is dripping blood everywhere.”

Cally fumed, thoroughly vexed. She would have thrown her hands up in frustration, except that would inexorably generate a vibrant fountain of blood and destroy any evidence to defend her questioned intelligence. She gritted her teeth and repeated her case: “ You have to fight me, don’t you understand? I can’t leave knowing you killed my friend and are still alive despite that!  I have to finish the cause she set out to fulfill! I have to kill you, because I’m a Perditha and we live so dragons can die!” she gasped, out of breath, dropping to her knees as the dragon turned away again.

“As I said, she was trying to kill me first.” His voice was a low rumble, so quiet it would have been inaudible had it not been almost completely silent in the cave. “I do not wish to kill another human; I have no desire to fight any longer.” Its next words were fragile, tentative- offered like a gift. “I’m sorry about your friend.”  Cally leapt to her feet and was about to verbally mutilate and castigate the dragon when she glimpsed its thoughtful face, turned slightly towards her; its orange-gold gaze was filled with remorse. This conversation no longer seemed directed towards her, but it seemed that the dragon was deeply pondering and voicing a deep sorrow of his soul. “I’m sorry about all of them, really.”

He finally turned to her, his shimmery opaque scales red and gold under the gentle light of the fire. His scales were a pattern of ruby, amber, and gold hues, perfectly fit together like a marvelous masterpiece or a puzzle made of precious jewels. His voice was distant and wounded when he said, “I never forget them. Their faces, their deaths.”  He sighed morosely, a deep forlorn expression crossing his face. “I will never forget the humans.”  The dragon lay down in front of her, his massive frame stumbling gradually, abruptly, and painfully into the ground. The dragon’s head jerked; a ribbon of smoke seeped into the air as the dragon released a soft moan. He shifted every time he placed pressure on an injury, finally settling so that the dagger that was still impaled into his scales stuck out like a flag over a castle. The dragon’s gaze was serious and doleful as it met hers, and his gravelly voice echoed as he said softly, “If I kill you, you will just be another human to haunt me.”

Cally’s mouth opened. A gasp of revelation sang through her like a chord. Slowly, tentatively, Cally unfurled the fingers of her good hand, which had been held in a tight fist. Gradually, she raised her hand so it was level to her heart, and gently, like the uncurling of a moth’s wings for the the first time, she splayed her fingers out and extended her palm until she could feel the pulsing heat of the smoke from the dragon’s nostrils, and the warm surface of the dragon’s face. “It’s ok,” she said, watching his amber gaze disappear briefly as he closed his eyes in relief, “I understand.” Suddenly she understood; behind this fearsome wall of muscle was a pulsing heart, undoubtedly much bigger than her own. This dragon just wanted a quiet life, away from the constant danger of weapons and hate-filled people. He didn’t want a war. He didn’t want to be feared. He didn’t want power.

He just wanted to be left alone.

This dragon clearly had never wanted attention, but he had been forced to slaughter those like her friend who often put duty over their conscience when it came to dragons, whose machinating nature had been taught to them since their births. Suddenly it made sense. She understood.

And she forgave.

A rapid crescendo of rustling signaled her to the dragon’s motion, her eyes flitting up to notice his head was now far above her, and his magnificent wings cut cleanly through the air like thick, red-and-orange tapestries, woven above with golden highlights and covered completely with gleaming gold scales on the side that spanned above her.

“You must be far from home,” the dragon mused, contemplatively. “Surely I can assist you.”

Cally took a step back, hesitating. Then she looked up, grinned, and nodded. “Yes, please,” she whispered, almost too excited to believe what was happening. Anticipation whirred through her veins, increasing the rate of her breathing and sending her mind into a frenzy of Really? Flying? Is this a dream? She backpedaled, the smile on her face blooming into a radiant grin as she ran forward and her feet pushed off the ground to escape the pull of gravity, sending her plowing through the atmosphere with her silver tangles combed by air and waving and curling like metallic ribbons, her cerulean blue eyes alight with utter euphoria as she spread her legs and crashed onto the dragon’s back, too thrilled to acknowledge another failed landing or the pain that shot through her wrist.

Her fingers stole out and gripped Ivy’s dagger; she pulled it out from the dragon’s back and cradled it between her hands, then gently wiped the dried blood and dirt off of it. Cally faced the scratched blade and eyed her own grimy, briefly sorrowful expression, then forced herself to release a grim smile. She held the dagger to her heart, muttered a final “Good bye” and let the delicate silver weapon fall gently, crashing against the ground. She watched. Steel against stone. A spark. A metallic shriek. Then silence. Cally turned away and nodded resolutely.

The dragon took off, nearly throwing her off as he pierced the sky and spread his wings like a canopy of flames and light, the ground fanning out below like a gentle stream of leaves and fluttering birds, which chirped to invite the dawn. The clouds beside her were pink and fluffy, though when she reached out to trail her hands through them, her fingers came out slathered in water and the texture was the same as the air, giving it no flocculent feeling. An ache of hurt stabbed her heart as she peered back at the shrinking cave, knowing that it held her abandoned sword, and, more importantly, Ivy’s ashes, but the pain ebbed as she knew that her friend would have wanted her to be safe, and the dragon himself was also a victim of this broken world.

The sky spanned out in front of her and took her breath away, the sun a warm glow that dominated her view and was surrounded by a few thin clouds that were pushed along by the wind, which waved as they passed along with their cheerful pink-and-purple curves. The wind danced through the air, tossing up strands of her hair and brushing a chill over her skin, failing to blow the beaming grin from her face. The dragon paused, wingbeats a gentle thrum that churned to the rhythm of Cally’s heartbeat, filling her with a warm hope as she gazed at the sunrise.

Warmth from the sun bathed her face in golden light; Cally closed her eyes and felt the water that clung to her arms as clouds clumsily meandered through her, painting her skin with water droplets. Wind skipped past the birds and clouds, dancing over her wet arms and dousing her in cold; Cally shuddered and wrapped her arms around the dragon’s neck, receiving the pulsing waves of heat that the dragon emanated from under its thick, metallic scales.

The hatred that had filled her heart now dulled to an unusual, calming peace; somehow she felt much lighter, much happier than she had felt when holding on to bitterness and blind rage. The dragon exhaled gently, plumes of smoke curling and vanishing into the air as his throat almost imperceptibly vibrated beneath her fingers. She laughed, now in disbelief that she could ever want to kill such a beautiful, unique creature. Cally looked up and felt the dragon’s head follow, and they both gazed at the fiery-colored sunset and felt a new unity that crushed a long-held wall of prejudice and hostility.

The sun beamed.

The wind whistled.

The trees swayed.

In the still morning sky, both dragon and girl smiled together.

-Joanna Andrews