Legend of the Girl and the Dragon

The child wandered alone through the woods, fueled by its sense of curiosity. It had no idea – naturally, it was too young to realise – that it was abandoned by its parents. Poverty (though the child knew nothing of poverty due to aforementioned reasons) struck even the most determined workers, and the parents thought it more merciful to leave the child in the wilderness to face its fate. Such was the love and sacrifice of the mother and father, such was their despair and selfishness.

As of now, the child was too preoccupied by the colours of the forest flowers, of which it recognised three (blue, red and yellow), to cry. After all, it still believed the parents would come back, and decided to enjoy the rare moment of freedom. A flower; a mushroom; a tree; two rows of big teeth.

The child was taken aback by the sight. Surely, it didn't fit the idyllic atmosphere of the forest in the early afternoon. The child raised its head, seeing the owner of the teeth – a dragon as big as a mountain (in reality, it wasn't nearly as tall as the trees, but in a child's mind, it was as large as the world).

The child was too intrigued to be afraid. One could say, its brain wasn't yet developed enough to connect the dragon with fear, but even its ancient instincts failed to activate. There was no warning to run away. Perhaps, staying still was the right idea. The dragon watched the child with matching curiosity.

It was difficult to tell what the dragon thought, as most dragons don't process thoughts the same way a human would. However, it was unlikely that the dragon considered the child a meal, for it wouldn't be sufficient even as a snack. Likewise, the child wasn't sure what to make of the dragon – it was an animal for sure, but the only animals the child knew were dogs and cows. Its mind might have interpreted the dragon as a really large dog, and that is why it sent the signal to pet the dragon.

The rough scales were so unlike the soft fur of a dog. The dragon made a low growling noise, conflicted between his dislike of physical contact and the pleasant feeling the child's scratches gave him. It must have been then and there that the dragon decided to accept the child as his own.

The child grew into a bright young girl. The survival of a young unskilled person would be highly unlikely under normal circumstances, however, she was under the protection of a winged beast with large, sharp teeth. The dragon took the vacant spot of the girl's guardian.

He took the role so seriously that he almost ate a hunter who dared to approach the girl. The hunter took pity on the child, being himself old enough that his own children grew up and left without providing him with grandchildren. He made sure to bring food (that was what saved him in the end, the dragon spared him as he unpacked the loaf of bread and pieces of cooked meat). The girl ate quickly and violently like an animal would, growling and making a mess. The behaviour she exhibited was so far from a human child, it was baffling. She was positively feral, the man thought, and after he gained her trust like she was a stray cat, he began to teach her language.

Despite the situation he found her in, and her savage nature, the hunter believed she was an exceptional child. He might have been lost in his own bias, since there was something about her that reminded him of his own daughter, but the speed in which she learnt to speak, read, and count was nothing short of fascinating. He committed to visiting her every day, regardless of the dragon's obvious dislike of him (though he always kept a respectful distance) and regardless of his fellow villagers calling him senile after he had told them the story of the girl and the dragon.

He repeatedly asked her if she wanted to live in the village with her own kind, but her answer has not changed over the three years he had known her – it was always a firm no. She stared at him, her wild brown eyes taking apart his very soul, until he looked away. To that, the dragon made a strange noise deep in its throat, as if it understood, as if it was mocking him.

Nevertheless, the hunter wasn't fond of giving up easily, and as she grew older, he tried a different tactic altogether. He told her of the girls and women who got married, bore children and took care of the household. She seemed curious at first, asking additional questions about the divide of labour, the process of creating children (at which the hunter blushed a deep red and repeated that she was too young to know of such things), and the benefits of the roles women had. Then, she circled back to the stories of mighty warriors the hunter used to tell her when they first met, and proclaimed that she, too, would be a mighty warrior, and that a husband, a child and a household would be too bothersome for her. The old man mumbled something about the dangers of teaching girls to read.

One day the hunter visited the woods but didn't find the girl or the dragon. He only came across a still warm campfire, and an elegantly written letter. The letter informed him that she had left the woods in pursuit of knighthood, and if they were to meet again, it would be in a legend about her and her dragon companion. The old man thought he ought to be mad, worried, or disappointed – instead, he found himself smiling with his eyes raised to the sky.