2. An Incident with the Dragon

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One year later...

Elvira had no idea what was keeping the accursed dragon.

She smelled the air impatiently. Water and grass, grass and water... then even more grass, but not a whiff of the dragon's sulfurous stench. She squinted at the sky-it remained clear, without the giant winged shape obscuring the blue expanse.

The chain that tied her to the sacred oak chafed her under the armpits and in a thousand other places already. The gnarled trunk poked her in the back no matter how much she wiggled... but the waiting, the waiting clawed at her insides worse, dragging her soul over coals.

The monster had terrorized the countryside tirelessly and abducted her loyal comrade-in-arms, but now he had the audacity to take a nap somewhere, while she suffered this stupid masquerade.

Hurry and face justice, villain!

Pretending to be a sacrificial damsel chained to the tree to satisfy the dragon's base whims was contrary to her nature, but she'd do anything to avenge Sir Ferrante. She let her head loll to one side again, as if she was exhausted. The rose crown slipped to the ground from her flowing locks and teetered at the edge of the sheer drop by her feet.

Below the cliff, the torrent raged.

But the roaring of the white water was mewling compared to the dragon's call when it shook the cliff, the oak on top of it and Elvira chained to the oak.

The roses took the plunge, hitting the stone on their way to the watery grave, sending a shower of petals up into the air.

The rock under Elvira's feet and the oak behind her back shook again when the dragon crashed from the sky. His long claws stroked sparks from the stone, and the wings buffeted pebbles up into the air as he came to a skidding stop. He looked this way and that, before folding his magnificent wings, hiding their scarlet lining out of sight. Glossy black scales covered the entire body, except for a scarlet stripe running from the shoulder blade to mid-wing.

Elvira lowered her head stubbornly and released a slow breath. The dragon didn't scare her. She just hated him for all the suffering he had caused.

The monster lifted Elvira's chin with a dusty claw and roared: "Dame Elvira!"

The oak leaves, torn off their branches by the power of the dragon's call, flew up, then rained over them, green and glossy. Elvira's eyes narrowed. Go on, anger the dryads! They will tickle you to death.

The dragon coughed a puff of smoke from his long muzzle and repeated at a lower volume: "Dame Elvira?" Impatience tinted his voice... well, she shared it.

"You monster! Answer my charges!" Elvira snapped out of her demure pose, allowing righteous fury to roll over her like a firestorm. Finally, the moment of reckoning was hers. "You've ruined the countryside!"

"That was the baron's lie to get tax relief, I swear!" The dragon backed away a stride. His heavy footfalls dropped another heap of glossy leaves from the oak. The hard-packed dirt groaned under his steps, bulging into inch-deep footprints.

The tree screeched in alarm, grabbing at the heart of the rock with its mighty roots. If it toppled over into the stream after the roses, the village nearby would spend the next century appeasing the dryads. It would be better to take the inevitable battle away from the tree.

Elvira ripped the chains out of the tree trunk and swirled them above her head. She nearly choked on her hatred, but she had to spit out the charges one at a time to keep things legal. "You've abducted three maidens in a fortnight."

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