Kicking open the final door upstairs, Sona laid her eyes upon the elf, who was startled by her entrance.
"Christopher Greene?" She asked heroically, stepping in like she owned the place.
Suddenly, the warrior felt two arms wrap around her. Someone was hugging her tightly. "What happened?" Sona asked, patting his shoulder. Sensing his distress.
"I am Luke Greenleaf. An elf." He let go of her, a tear rolled down his cheek. "You need to help me, please. There's a dragon down there. I heard a lot of commotion. I think he's fighting someone. You MUST help me!" He was practically begging her, holding her hand, heart pounding.
"That's why I'm here. My boyfriend will kill that reptilian. My job is getting you out of here."
"Thank you, thank you." said the elf softly as Sona put an arm around his shoulders.
Bloodied and bruised, Darak leaned against one of the two sitting chairs in the lounge. Blood covered his fur down to his chest, his nose and mouth stung of a thousand needles.
The hardwood floor covered in broken vases, paintings had fallen off the walls of the parlor.
Sirus kneeled at the injured minotaur's side, eyeing his body with a sneer. "You know, I thought you'd be a harder one. Maybe break my hand, maybe knock a tooth out? No. You're nothing but a wild horse in need of taming. It took some time for you to come to my level. It took time for you to realize that I can't be beaten. Here you are. Ready to be mine and mine alone. Messed up a good portion of my home. It was worth it."
Turning his head, Darak met Sirus' gaze. His yellow eyes and his perfect scales, his tail which dragged across the floor. Sirus placed a hand on Darak's head and gently moved his palm around the horns of the monster.
"Just picturing you. Standing by my side. Me snapping my fingers and you automatically knowing what I wish. Maybe some nights, I would blindfold you. Remove that kilt of yours. See what you're hiding. Oh, yes." The dragon licked his lips, trailing his forked tongue across his pearly sharp teeth.
"Darak. Hates. You." His voice was feeble. He coughed shakily. Tasting blood in the back of his throat. Oh, how he wanted to sleep off these injuries. His head was so heavy. His eyelids felt like heavy stones.
"I'll admit that's the most coherent thing you've said all night. I think I should take you upstairs and maybe tomorrow we'll start bright and new. Forgive each other for this ridiculous squabbling."
A crunch of bone and flesh alerted the minotaur. He stood up slowly, using the armchair as a crutch.
The blade of a sword entered Sirus' chest. From his back and through his lung. The dragon gasped in pure shock.
Sona yanked the sword from his body slowly and held it, prepared to fight as Sirus turned to meet her heroic stance.
The dragon's breathing became slower. With every breath, Sirus felt a piercing pain in his chest.
"A wise man once wrote every dragon has a weak spot. Just found yours. No matter how human you look, how you walk, how you dress or how you act...you are a dragon. Same weaknesses as the rest." Sona smiled. She took a deep breath and went for another blow, aiming for his neck.
Before she could do so, Sirus inhaled deeply. With every fiber of his body and blew a stream of fire from his mouth. Sona jumped out of the way, her hair just missing the fires from the beast.
The fire erupted quickly through the home. The red beast collapsed to the floor with a thud as flame ate at his home. Smoke wafted through the building, walls were now covered in an orange and yellow blaze. Loud creaks told Sona and Darak that the home couldn't withstand this sort of pressure. Almost as if the walls were coated in gasoline. More likely that Sirus' fire was not typical fire, but a fire only found in the soul of such a creature.
Clutching his chest, Sirus fell to the ground, first kneeling, then finally landed face first on the floor.
Seeing his arm sticking out limply from underneath his long body, Sona lifted her boot and bashed his hand. Bone and muscle squished, Sirus moaned, not having the energy to scream. He sobbed. Not because of sadness or anger of defeat, but the stinging sensation of simply breathing put his body in a horrified and unknown state. He could very well die right here, right now.
Then, she lifted her sword, pointed end facing downward and stabbed the lying dragon in the back once again, slicing one of his wings in half. The blade dove straight into his spinal cord with a splat. Blood pooled beneath the creature.
Sona couldn't lift Darak, but she did briskly walk him to the broken front door and got him outside as the home crumbled.
Windows broke loudly, the fire had made its way upstairs and was demolishing the manor from the inside.
Sona lied Darak in the grass a mile or so away from the home of Sirus, where Luke was waiting patiently.
Dark, leafless trees surround the trio. The silver moonlight beamed upon them like the Gods themselves wanted them to be safe from harm. Leaves crumpled beneath, woodland creatures scurried. Some stopped to look at the injured minotaur before going off to fend for their lives.
"Darak? Are you alright?" Sona spoke softly, kneeling to her boyfriend, pressing her hand to the center of his chest.
"Darak thinks so." Weakly, the minotaur spoke, taking a deep breath.
"This should help him." Luke also kneeled beside him with a handful of mud and crumples of leaves. He placed the mud on Darak's wounds.
"What is it?" Sona looked at Luke as he tended to Darak's wounds.
"A concoction my father taught me. Heals wounds quickly and warmly. Only works in an enchanted forest." Luke nodded.
"Should he sleep?" Sona asked worriedly, holding Darak's large hand.
"Yes. This mixture won't take long to heal him. His heart is returning to a normal pace from what I felt."
"Thank you, Luke." Sona pets his shoulder softly.
***
ONE MONTH LATER...
Winter snows fell on Lockinge. However, the day was warm for such a season.
Darak limped about the farmhouse. The floor creaked. Outside, the sounds of a sunny town were prominent.
Holding a mug of water, Darak sat slowly in one of the comfortable chairs in the home. Donning his leather kilt, which he hadn't worn in quite some time since he had been bedridden. Sitting by a clean glass window, Darak looked out into the bustling town. Horse and carriages rode by farmers and pedestrians talked and laughed. He longed to go outdoors again. He longed to see the smiles and get a beer at the tavern.
The minotaur could finally remove the eye patch which had covered one eye. The eyeball stung for weeks, but thankfully he didn't lose vision.
"Feeling better?" Sona stepped in, wrapping her arms around Darak after a trip to town.
"Darak is much better." His voice wasn't nearly as tired as it had been the last few weeks. He could move his mouth in any direction he wished as it had healed.
"Dragon is dead?" Asked Darak, still looking out the window. Enjoying the sunshine.
"I think so." Sona nodded, sitting next to her hunky boyfriend. "I'd be surprised if he survived not only a lung injury, but his how collapsing on top of him."
Sona and Darak sat in silence. She placed her head on his shoulder. The minotaur glimpsed at her. Admiring her colorful robe, and noticed the shiny knife on her belt. Never was Sona not prepared for some battle. Whatever battle comes next, she hoped Darak would be safe.
***
Two freshly killed rabbits were plopped by the campfire from Atticus' den. Luke Greenleaf sat by the flames, warming his hands. Getting a moment of peace before his pack would awaken from slumber.
"Good morning, Luke," the great white wolf, Atticus, yawned and shook dust from his fur. "Sleep well?"
"I did, sir. Thank you." Smiled the elf sadly. Donning a new set of leather armor, quiver, and arrows. A master at the sport of archery. Perfect for looking out for potential threats of the wolf pack.
"You look somber." Atticus commented, walking to Luke's side.
In looking into the eyes of the wolf, Luke felt a calmness. I can never hide how I feel about my alpha. I try. I don't know why. He truly is a boss. A boss I've yearned for. Given my purpose. Something Sirus could never, ever learn or even care about learning. If Atticus was not a wolf, he'd be one of the greatest kings to ever rule a kingdom. I have not a single doubt.
"Sirus haunts my dreams. I wish I dreamed of hunting with our pups. I wish my mind would go anywhere but there." The elf played with a thin stick between his fingers, looking into the blazing fire.
"I know you've gotten help over this month, but if you need to vent, I am here. A true leader never looks at a pack as a single entity. But a constantly shifting machine with moving parts. We all need help. You have amazing strengths, Luke. Helping us has made our lives incredible." Smiled the wolf.
"I love it here. I do know for a fact if I weren't here, I'd be more of a mess. Alone. Scared. I made the right choice, sir." Will I ever see that minotaur again? I don't know. He and Sona saved my life, just as much as Atticus and his pack. I know that if that bastard of a dragon is out there, somehow Darak and Sona will fight him. Again. I somehow know in my heart that I'll be safe. I can not let my past dictate who I am now. While I can vent, while I can cry, I am a changed elf. Perhaps this story would make a fine book for future generations.
END.