The dawn breaks slowly over the horizon on a day two months past. Cold air flees from the east, gently caressing his cheeks with the morning's mist. A lark and some bird of paradise chirp and sing with the gentle ferocity of a flutist soothing some savage beast. Rays of distant sunlight pierce through the mountains above the meadows lancing across leather and warming bare skin. His lips crack into a world-weary smile and through the darkness he feels the world come alive around him. Behind him his companion stirs as they prepare to resume their dance.
Curled in the clearing is death made flesh. A massive beast breathing the musty scent of blood, dirt, and moldering plants; a monster of wings, claws, and fangs. A scaled eye blinks balefully and the dragon stretches its neck as the sun beckons. "I see you're still here young Ravenwood," he rumbles, "Perhaps I'll eat you today."
"You will try, Wyrm Rhellgr," the boy's smile breaks in true as he calls back, "Perhaps I'll let you."
A tide of scales roils across the sea of grass in the clearing as claws, scales, and teeth leap forward to devour, the whisper of death's passing quieter than a serpent slithering through the blades. Allan leans down and scales scrape against leather as he tumbles away, letting the force of the strike guide him and scattering the morning dew into the air. Twisting and planting his own fingers shaped into claws against the side of the beast's musty hide, his smile becomes a fierce grin.
"So slow and clumsy today, Uncle," the boy chides the dragon as it turns, furrows of damp earth erupting under Rhellgr's claws and filling the air with the wet scent. Scaly feathers unfurl in a gentle rasp as the monstrosity catches himself.
"Nonsense," Rhellgr growls, his chest swelling, maw opening wide. The boy is already walking toward him when the flames belch out. The sour stench of burnt flesh fills the air and withers the grass as the small figure vanishes into a greasy plume of smoke.
"Your breath is foul today, Uncle," the boy laughs, his blind eyes a shining bottle glass green as sidesteps the onslaught, his hair ruffling in the fire's passing as he reaches up to slap the dragon's snout with a mockingly loving caress, "Shall we find something fresher to eat?"
The cascade of green fire dies down and the dragon shakes his emerald head, almost grinning. "I suppose I don't have to eat you today Nephew. What did you have in mind?"
