This is an intro. to a story whose heroes travel to the realm of magicians and dragons.
She was still immature and only a faded black, yet her thirst for power was already strong and growing. She screeched with amusement as she made her first pass, burning the thatched roofs below with her putrid breath.
“Fear me!” the dragon bellowed. Her wings eclipsed the sun as she angled for another burst of raging flames.
The terrified villagers scattered in all directions. Choking from the smoke, they grabbed their children’s hands and fled the life-threatening flames.
Above their heads, the dragon cackled with pleasure as she anticipated the hunt. The horses whinnied with fear. They reared and kicked open their paddock before galloping away. Dogs barked and cowered, torn between fear and defiance. The barnyard fowl dispersed in a cacophony of squawks while the dragon’s shadow engulfed the frightened villagers, swooping over their heads only to rise again. Like a cat, she toyed with the villagers until finally, she decided to go for the kill.
After one last dive to frighten the villagers, she diverted her course before plunging. When she neared the ground, she backflapped her juvenile wings to reduce her speed. Extending her powerful talons, she seized a ram. She flapped her wings, adjusting for the added weight, and prepared to fly off with her prize when she heard a shout from below.
“Are you so weak that you can only fight goats?”
She dropped the frightened animal and turned to face this unexpected challenge. Legs firmly planted and muscles tight, the youth boldly thrust his sword high above his head. The sword glimmered as it reflected the bright sunlight.
At first the dragon was surprised, then angered, that he dared defy her. As young as she was, she had no fear. She thought that she was all-powerful and that nothing could harm her. She was wrong.
The dragon flew over the defiant youth, blasting flames and screaming insults; nevertheless, the man valiantly stood his ground, brandishing his glistening sword. Furious, she turned, extending her razor-sharp claws as she prepared to slash him to pieces. She increased her speed for the attack. Down she swooped.
The pain was wrenching. It was unfathomable. Blood gushed from the open wound. Dizziness set in. She had to escape. How could this have happened?
She flew the best she could with blood pouring from her veins. Finally she made it back to her lair where she collapsed, her mind reeling from the pain.
The wound was deep where the sword had slashed her tender underbelly. It would take years for her to heal: time to plan her revenge, time to plan her future, time to mature, time for men to forget, but she would not forget—she would return.