Taken by the Dragon

Isabelle stood alone in the town square, trembling.

The thin material of her dress fluttered in the harsh wind, clinging to her and offering no protection from the elements. She hugged her wedding shawl tighter around herself, turned her back to the wind, and waited.

This was not what she had imagined when she had sewn her wedding dress, or during all the painstaking hours that she had spent knitting the gauzy white shawl. She had imagined flowers, sweet perfumes, smiling faces. A warm spring day and some special someone waiting for her at the altar of the village church. Now everything had changed, and she was standing alone on a bleak November day, watching the sun set and waiting for the Dragon to take her away.

She had a little bag of things with her. Her two everyday dresses, a little food that her family had packed up to send with her, and the small parcel that her mother had given her. Her stomach tightened into and even smaller knot as she thought of it, hidden underneath her clothing. She didn’t know which was worse- the thought of using it, or the thought of not using it.

The wind changed. Suddenly it blew warm and westerly, bringing a hot spicy scent and whipping up a storm of grit and leaves. She shielded her eyes and looked upward, squinting into the stormy grey sky.

Her knees went weak. He was coming.

The dragon’s wings were so vast that they seemed to block out the sky. He landed so near her that she thought he would crush her, that one of those huge leathery wings would bat her across the square like a little doll. When he finally set down, his huge ebony head was only inches from hers, the glittering green eyes staring into her. She tried to scramble backwards, but fell instead.

He advanced. His hot breath rippled her skirts, the scorching heat cutting through the thin cloth just as the cold wind had a moment before. Was he going to burn her right here? Right now? She stared into the evil vermillion eyes, tried to find some scrap of emotion there, and failed.

But he was not going to kill her. Instead, he laid his head alongside her and went still. She stared. After a moment the head snapped back up and an angry grumble thundered out of the creature’s chest. He pawed the stones of the square, leaving deep furrows with his huge claws. She shrieked and cowered, unable to stop herself, but still the dragon did not kill her. It laid its head down again, and this time she understood.

He expected her to ride.

She wished she could just faint and let the dragon eat her here. This was asking more of her than she could give. However, she looked at the village around her, and remembered how little choice she had in the matter. The sweet, low houses of her town would burn so very easily in this dry autumn, and take everyone she loved with them. Slowly, shakily, she gathered up her bag and staggered to her feet. She stumbled a little as she approached the beast’s head, her fear tangling her feet, but she made it.

She laid a hand on the creature’s neck. It was smooth and silky to the touch, the hard black scales as bright as polished onyx, and it exuded a ferocious heat. She clambered up and awkwardly straddled the beast’s neck. A few of the smaller spikes on his head were close enough to use as handholds, and she clung desperately to them.

The dragon did not wait. He launched himself into the air so fast that she felt as though her stomach remained on the ground. The ground spiraled away from them, and she had to close her eyes to keep from being sick.

The wind in the air was even more bitter than it had been on the ground. Her face and fingers were numb in moments, and she pressed herself against the roaring furnace of the dragon’s skin to ward off the chill. They flew on.