Serpent Moon

There weren't always dragons in the valley. Winter paused in her digging and frowned, the words tugging at something in her memory. Where had she heard that before? Was it from her mother? Some story told when she was still a child, sitting next to the hearth?

Sitting back on her heels, she pulled a cloth rag from her pocket and wiped her face. It came away wet with sweat and dirt and she sighed.

From behind her, there was a sound of impatience and a man's gruff voice said, "What's wrong, girl? Why'd you stop?" The voice's gruffness did nothing to hide the undercurrent of anxiety that dripped from every word.

Winter sniffed and said, "Do you smell that?"

The old man, Hearst, shook his head in the near pitch darkness of the tunnel. They'd been moving slowly, taking turns digging with a short handled shovel, and it was Hearst's turn to hold the lantern and rest. "My nose is full of mud, lass. I don't smell anything."

"I thought I smelled smoke." Her muscles ached and her breath was ragged, but she wasn't quite done in yet. This was her third time in the lead, doing the digging, and she couldn't shake the feeling that they were getting close. "How long have we been down here?"

Before the man behind her could answer, there was a heavy thump and the ground dropped from beneath them. Falling, surrounded by an avalanche of earth, Winter caught a glimpse of Hearst tumbling through the night, the lantern flying, before she crashed into the sloping valley wall. The tunnel had collapsed in on itself, spewing them out into the open air, and what had begun as an organized job of work quickly became chaos.

There was no time to worry about the man as Winter fell, sliding and rolling down to the valley floor. What little scrub brush and vegetation that remained was scorched and came apart in puffs of ash as she crashed to a stop.

Not far away, she heard Hearst grunting and cursing as he hauled himself up. He cried out and fell back to ground, clutching at his leg.

Winter was sore and had more scrapes and bruises than she could count, but she was pretty sure nothing was busted. The night sky overhead was thick with heavy dark clouds and fat raindrops began to fall.

Getting to her feet, Winter went to the old man in a sort of shuffling stoop, trying to keep low to the ground and out of sight.

Hearst was filthy, though probably no more than Winter herself was, and had a bleeding gash on his cheek. The rain made runnels in the dirt on his face. He peered up into the night sky as he clutched at his leg and said, "We need cover! Now!"

Winter agreed, wholeheartedly. But, before she could reply, there was an explosion of flame behind them that sent a blast of white hot heat crashing into their backs and made them both cry out in fear. They both turned and shrunk back in horror.

The dragon dropped out of the sky and landed before them, its emerald scales glittering in the light of the fire blazing all around them. It was a massive beast, its head large and bristling with curved horns and spikes, and its neck curved up into powerful shoulders that rippled with muscle as it leveled its brutal gaze upon them. Smoke drizzled lazily from its gaping jaws.

Winter held still, staring into the beast's slitted eyes as she felt the strength wash from her limbs. The eyes were golden and flecked with scarlet, holding an intelligence that was chilling to behold.

She felt more than saw Hearst preparing to move and dropped a hand to the old man's arm, whispering fiercely, "You mustn't."

But the old man was already lost to his terror. With an inarticulate cry, he pulled loose from her hand and attempted to flee.

With an almost lazy seeming movement, the dragon lashed out its tail and knocked Hearst sprawling. The old man shouted and clutched his broken leg, rolling onto his back.

Before Winter could begin to move to help the poor man, the dragon spoke in a deep and rumbling voice. It said, "It is long since man has dared to tread the floor of this valley." Its voice was thickly accented and not wholly unpleasant. "Why have you come to my valley?"

Winter heard the emphasis the beast placed on that one word. My. She had to work moisture into her mouth before she dared answer, lest she choke on her words. She said, "I've come to parlay with the Court of Flames, lord dragon. For the lives of my people and all those that live beyond your borders."

The dragon barked a genuinely amused laugh and more smoke spilled from its grinning jaws.

Hearst had crawled back to Winter's side. His broken leg drug uselessly behind him as he reached her and stopped, staring at the beast with wild eyes.

The dragon seemed to smile and said, "Parlay to your heart's content, human. Perhaps, if you amuse me, I'll let you live. Or I may eat you. To tell the truth, I haven't made up my mind yet, either way."

Winter licked her lips, mind racing, before a sudden thought struck her. The same thought from earlier. And she began speaking, beginning with, "There weren't always dragons in the valley. Once, it belonged to my people. When your kind came, we fled. Not because we feared you. But because we knew that one day, we would need your help. And that day has come."

And, as she spoke, the dragon listened.