Valley of Fire

There weren't always dragons in the valley.

The legends say that they were around long ago. It wasn't uncommon to see them there, in their nests under the trees or in the mountains. Dragons were the most powerful creatures on the planet. They could take out an entire village in minutes. Theirs was a species capable of conquering many lands. And their numbers grew rapidly. It was hard to tell how many there really were. One hundred? Two? Perhaps a hundred and fifty? The people of the Valley of Fire had never been able to get a clear count. The people believed they would cause great destruction. They believed the dragons had become a problem.

And so, the people of the Valley of Fire declared war on the dragons. They destroyed their nests, slaughtered their young, ambushed their elderly. One could hear the screams, of both Dragon and human, from the deepest parts of the valley. Their victory over the dragons came at a price. Many died, never to return home to their families. But the most concerning, is that after the defeat of the dragons, a drought crept over the Valley, bringing with it a chill that seeped into your bones. The rivers ran dry, the lakes evaporated. All the animals, now gone. The lush forest of the Valley was now barren.

The people of the village could not live in such conditions. Though they tried to wait it out, hoping the rains would come. Anger and violence within the once amiable village grew. Many made the connection to the destruction of the dragons. Some refused to believe they made a mistake. Those who regretted waging war on the beasts fled their homes in hopes of finding new life. And those who stood firm in their actions eventually vanished with what was left of their village.

That's how the legends go, anyway. There weren't many people left to tell the stories of the Valley of Fire. And those that tried were often ignored or mocked. The problem was, when the dragons disappeared from the Valley of Fire, they disappeared entirely. No one believed for a minute that humans could have defeated the dragons, let alone their disappearance causing a catastrophe for one small village and not the others. And so the vagabonds continued to roam, telling their story to anyone who would listen.

•●•

Hundreds of years later and the rebirth of the Valley brought with it the return of the dragons. The dragon's comeback brought chaos and fear to the people of the Valley of Fire. And as I sit, perched in the canopy of a Douglas Fir, taking in the marvelous creatures roaming the valley, I think about the legends that have been passed down from generation to generation. Something seems to be amiss. These dragons do not seem malicious or dangerous. I can't understand why our ancestors feared these creatures. But then again, I have never thought the same way as everyone else.

I want to get closer. I need to get closer. The sun is starting to descend behind the mountains in the distance. Perfect for casting shadows to hide in. I climb down from my perch, and just as I step towards the old, overgrown pathway to the outer Valley I hear the dreaded whistle. I groan and scowl, staring in the direction of the village. My mother's whistle is one of a kind, unmistakable. And not to be ignored.

"Deep breaths," I tell myself, as I roll my eyes. My mother and I have always had a tense relationship. She always wanted a daughter that she could share interests and hobbies with. After my six older brothers, she thought she had finally been granted her wish. But a daughter who preferred breeches over dresses, boots over slippers, and a double braid over a pretty coif, was not what she had hoped for at all. There are times I feel bad about it. A fleeting pressure of guilt, that I don't even try to be what she expects, but it doesn't ever last long.

"Raven!" I hear her yell for me. I inhale one last, deep breath and as I exhale, I start heading towards the village.