When the ocean finally spoke, it said "I love you".

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Just as there weren't always humans on the plains. Funny to watch how things change though, as they never used to fight either. In the simple beginnings it was only natural for them give way to each other. Each species recognizing the clear dangers of the other. With the same respect a sailor shows the ocean, humans would carefully forecast dragon patterns before stepping foot in the valley. While dragons, as to match the heedful eye any human would keep for a deadly insect, gave wide berth to humans and their cities. It was inevitable though what happened next, when the growth of human countries collided with the expansion of dragon territory. Despite the best interests of the two species, the once stable relationship, would gracelessly, implode. Today humans adorn trophies of dragon tooth and bone, while dragons build hoards of human coin and crown. A simple push for land rapidly evolved into what we have today. A viscous symbiotic relationship which endlessly feeds each other’s pride.

-

I don't remember when anymore, but I assume when it happened I was such a petty person I decided to stick around and haunt whatever had done me in. Coincidently and comically, I have forgotten the event entirely and I have no idea what I am doing anymore. You would think after all this time I would at least get lonely, but as it turns out, I do not. Drifting in and out of cities, I am content observing the daily happenings, and eavesdropping on inconsequential gossip.

Today find myself in Langola, an absolute monument of a city. As the main district for human education it stands as a pillar of human achievement. To strangers, the cities reputation lies in its age, but in reality its fame comes from its hunter’s guild. It was the first of all hunter guilds, and thus the capital. It is an old city though, so old that Langola actually predates all wars, and thus all conflict with dragons. The proof is easy to see, with it existing so dangerously close to the mountains and valleys. What human today would think to build a city here.

The autumn winds fill the air as Langola's wide roads bustle with merchants. The guards stand stoically on the walls keeping eyes on the mountains as well as the sky. A young woman tears through the gates into the streets carrying a sack of what I assume to be a fruit of some sort. Though I can't be positive which since today I can’t seem to remember what any fruit look like. Something scratches at my mind though as I seem to remember watching this woman before, but I believe my memory is failing. Maybe I saw her yesterday? Or was it the day before? I only spend a moment pondering on it before, naturally, giving up.

I had not been riding the woman's wake for more than a minute or two before a rogue wave of pure joy crashes into me. Which I find to be one of the more pleasant ways to discover company. The company happens to be a figure on the same side as me. Just another soul come to spectate the world as it turns. We don't speak, since of course we cannot, but I can feel them. Their pure elation to be here with the woman is infectious and I fall into the spell of it and in a moment, I am overtaken. The woman is smiling and happy to greet shopkeepers, throwing them apples as she jogs past them. Apples.. She is carrying apples. It strikes me now as I turn my attention and focus solely on the man with me.

The soul is emanating memories. I could already feel their joy but now, I feel everything. The woman we are following is named Petra, and the soul with me is her father, Darius. The echoes of his life flood into me, and I can't help but allow myself to get swept away in the tides of them. It feels, amazing. It is unimaginable, that people have the capacity to feel this every day, and I’ll be damned if I wasn’t more than a little jealous. I become him, everything he’s seen, felt, tasted, and heard. I turn my attention again as I realize I love Petra the same way Darius does. I remember the taste of apples like Darius does, his career, his parents, his marriage, and his wonderful, beautiful daughter. Maybe if I had died more recently, I would have memories of my own to offer him. If I had anything to share, maybe I could've repaid him for these wonders he carries with him. But no, there is no question about it, he doesn't even know I'm here.

I have undoubtedly been dead for too long.

-

Petra sprinted through the gates and down the streets of the market, giving a quick wave to her teacher Demi as she passes. The weight of the sack of apples cuts into her shoulder as she runs but it does nothing but make Petra beam wider. The strap brings a kind of pain that distills thoughts of apple pie, candied apples, and pastries with cinnamon. She stops for a moment to shift the sack and in a fluid motion, tosses an apple to one of Sherries little girls. Sherrie and her husband run a butcher’s stall and have recently fallen onto hard times since dragons culled their herd was last summer. They are recovering of course but it is an endless struggle. It will happen again, and then again.

Eventually Petra works herself to a stop and briefly grips at her her side. Grimacing as she catches her breath and walks out the stitch. A couple minutes later and she stands in front of a comically muscular man and his disproportionately sized stall of bread and baked goods. Brendan the baker leans forward expectantly. A bag sits on a bench beside him seemingly prepared just for her. She smiles widely, and peeks inside.

“Flour, sugar, butter, salt and eggs.” Brendan said proudly. "I'll give you a discount if you bring me back a slice of that pie your mother makes." He said.

"Aren't you the baker? How about you give me a discount, and I tell you where the trees are." The huge bearded man behind the stall shrugs and smiles humorously before giving her a wave, "I'll pass. I already don't like leaving the city much as it is."

Petra gives a disappointed shrug and takes a last minute quick reinventory in her head and nods affirmatively. She brings out her wallet and hands Brendan the baker a handful of copper and a single silver piece. She puts the eggs in a bag lined in a soft pillowy fabric, and then heaves the third, heaviest bag over her shoulder. With all of the food weighing her down, she now slowly and carefully walks home.

Her mother rolls her eyes as she catches Petra approaching. She leans on the door frame with her hands on her hips “What’s the celebration?” Gesturing to the apples, “and where’d you get the coin for all that ehh?”

Petra smiles proudly, “I picked these apples myself actually, and I’ve been saving up for this for a while now.”

Her mother’s head practically spins “Where..." She closes her eyes, and lifts her hands to rub at her temples. Bracing herself for the answer she already knew. "Where exactly... did you find wild apple trees?” She says.

Petra pauses with an exaggerated wide eyed expression. She sighs heavily before reluctantly response. “Yesterday, when the hunters were out I found a patch of apple trees near the riv-”

“And I suppose you figured that today, when you were alone, would be an ideal time to circle back for them ehh? Do you ever stop to think? Did you hear back from those hunters yesterday? They found a nest Petra. Not two miles from the walls. A NEST.” Her mother was red in the face before she could get the last words out.

Petra knew she would react this way. Petra's obsession, was identical to her mother’s deepest rooted fear. Making any discord over the topic of dragons, a ceaseless, and futile battle. She hated lying to her mom but by picking apples, she could at least avoid a lying directly. Petra had lived her mother’s nightmare this morning and snuck out to see the nest firsthand. Though wildly uneventful she thought that it was perhaps, a bit too much truth, for today at least.

Petra threw her head back and tried to come up with anything that could defuse her mother’s temper. “I heard Captain Pradis saying the dragon they found was long dead. There was no evidence of any dragons coming back that way anytime soon” Petra said.

But of course, her mother would have none of it. Walking forward with all the authority of a rattle snake, she effortlessly backs Petra back into the wall. “Nope, uh-uh, nah, not a chance. You messed up big. You’re city bound till I personally hear from the guild.”

Petra's mouth drew into a sharp line. The Hunters guild rarely ever spoke to the general public about their findings. Which is why most news comes from fearmongering gossip spread by hunters boasting about how dangerous their job is, and just how "mighty and brave" they have to be. Despite the source essentially being a couple man-children playing dress-up, this gossip continues to do nothing for mother’s temperament. At the end of the day it is always people like Petra that pay the price for a hunter’s ego.

Now Petra loves the hunters, and it is with a grain of salt that she resents them. Her teacher Demi has been a hunter since she was 16 and is personally responsible for the last couple of dragon kills. She is a not stronger, or even larger than the average person. It’s just simply put that she has more education behind her than Petra's whole generation combined. It is hunters like her that have stoked and fueled Petra's obsession. They give themselves wholly to the profession, study, and education of it all. When Petra was a child she would fight off other children for a chance to sit close to Demi when she held class, and every time, her first lesson would be about the greatest weapon humans have over dragons. Patience.

Petra drew in her breath and nodded firmly to her mother. She knew this would be her mothers reaction, and had already accepted it before she snuck out this morning. Being city bound till a guild notice, was a tad more excessive than she expected but the dragons are not going anywhere soon, and Petra has more patience than stone.

Petra turned to walk away but stopped mid step. "Hey mom, I'm gonna make these pies and then go to see dad. Would you come with me, please?" Petra said.

Her mother sighed deeply and looked at her daughter. "I planned to anyway." She laughs and adds "The smell of them pies has always been a cure-all for him anyhow. Maybe it'll help break that fever of his."

-

I catch myself obsessing over the ability to hold a clear and consistent thought. I get lost dreaming of the taste of apple pie, the warmth and smell. As Petra pulls out the last of the pies, Darius goes still. Without notice the joy in the air spreads thin. Another woman approaches the house, and the scratching returns as the memories of Demi spill over. I want to say I remember her on my own, but I cannot. The only memories that come to mind belong to Darius. Demi approaches the home and waves as she catches Petra's eye but does not return Petra's smile. There is no joy in the air now. This moment... This moment hurts. I want it to stop, but Darius is relentless as he begins pouring grief into me. I hate it... I hate this. I can't leave but I am desperate to get away. The ocean has receded, and this is the moment before it returns.

And as the words leave Demi's mouth, I feel the wave crash.