together in the middle of the raft, we were woken by a thunderous flapping sound overhead. We bolted out of our sleep and sat up straight, covering our ears to drown out the noise. The sound was like nothing I’d heard before, impossibly heavy, as though a giant was beating clean his bed sheets. It was accompanied by strong, cool gusts of wind which set the water rippling and our raft rocking. It was a dark night with no break in the clouds, and we couldn’t see what was making the noise.
“What is it?” I whispered. Harkat couldn’t hear my whisper over the noise, so I repeated myself, but not too loudly, for fear of giving our position away to whatever was above.
“No idea,” Harkat replied, “but there’s something … familiar about it. I’ve heard it before … but I can’t remember where.”
The flapping sounds died away as whatever it was moved on, the water calmed and our raft steadied, leaving us shaken but unharmed. When we discussed it later, we reasoned it must have been some huge breed of bird. But in my gut, I sensed that wasn’t the answer, and by Harkat’s troubled expression and inability to fall back asleep, I was sure he sensed it too.
We rowed quicker than usual in the morning, saying little about the sounds we’d heard the night before, but gazing up often at the sky. Neither of us could explain why the noise had so alarmed us—we just felt that we’d be in big trouble if the creature came again, by the light of day.
We spent so much time staring up at the clouds that it wasn’t until early afternoon, during a brief rest period, that we looked ahead and realized we were within sight of land. “How far do you think … it is?” Harkat asked.
“I’m not sure,” I answered. “Four or five kilometres?” The land was low-lying, but there were mountains further on, tall grey peaks which blended with the clouds, which was why we hadn’t noticed them before.
“We can be there soon if we … row hard,” Harkat noted.
“So let’s row,” I grunted, and we set to our task with renewed vigour. Harkat was able to row faster than me – my strength was failing rapidly as a result of not having any human blood to drink – but I stuck my head down and pushed my muscles to their full capacity. We were both eager to make the safety of land, where at least we could find a bush to hide under if we were attacked.
We’d covered about half the distance when the air overhead reverberated with the same heavy flapping sounds that had interrupted our slumber. Gusts of wind cut up the water around us. Pausing, we looked up and spotted something hovering far above. It seemed small, but that was because it was a long way up.
“What the hell is it?” I gasped.
Harkat shook his head in answer. “It must be immense,” he muttered, “for its wings to create … this much disturbance from that high up.”
“Do you think it’s spotted us?” I asked.
“It wouldn’t be hovering there otherwise,” Harkat said.
The flapping sound and accompanying wind stopped and the figure swooped towards us with frightening speed, becoming larger by the second. I thought it meant to torpedo us, but it pulled out of its dive ten or so metres above the raft. Slowing its descent, it unfurled gigantic wings and flapped to keep itself steady. The sound was ear shattering.
“Is that … what I … think it is?” I roared, clinging to the raft as waves broke over us, eyes bulging out of my head, unable to believe that this monster was real. I wished with all my heart that Harkat would tell me I was hallucinating.
“Yes!” Harkat shouted, shattering my wishes. “I knew I … recognized it!” The Little Person crawled to the edge of the raft to gaze at the magnificent but terrifying creature of myth. He was petrified, like me, but there was also an excited gleam in his green eyes. “I’ve seen it before … in my nightmares,” he croaked, his voice only barely audible over the flapping of the extended wings. “It’s a dragon!”
I’D NEVER in my life seen anything as wondrous as this dragon, and even though I was struck numb with fear, I found myself admiring it, unable to react to the threat it posed. Though it was impossible to accurately judge its measurements, its wingspan had to be twenty metres. The wings were a patchy light green colour, thick where they connected to its body, but thin at the tips.
The dragon’s body was seven or eight metres from snout to the tip of its tail. It put me in mind of a snake’s tapered body – it was scaled – though it had a round bulging chest which angled back towards the tail. Its scales were a dull red and gold colour underneath. From what I could see of the dragon’s back, it was dark green on top, with red flecks. It had a pair of long forelegs, ending in sharp claws, and two shorter limbs about a quarter of the way from the end of its body.
Its head was more like an alligator’s than a snake’s, long and flat, with two yellow eyes protruding from its crown, large nostrils, and a flexible lower jaw which looked like it could open wide to consume large animals. Its face was a dark purple colour and its ears were surprisingly small, pointed and set close to its eyes. It had no teeth that I could see, but the gums of its jaws looked hard and sharp. It had a long, forked tongue which flicked lazily between its lips as it hung in the air and gazed upon us.
The dragon observed us for a few more seconds, wings beating steadily, claws flexing, pupils opening and dilating. Then, tucking in its wings, it dived sharply, forelegs stretched, talons exposed, mouth closed—aiming for the raft!
With startled yells, Harkat and I snapped to attention and threw ourselves flat. The dragon screamed by overhead. One of its claws connected with my left shoulder and sent me crashing into Harkat.
As we pushed ourselves apart, I sat up, rubbing my bruised shoulder, and saw the dragon turn smoothly in the air, reverse and begin another dive. This time, instead of throwing himself on to the raft, Harkat grabbed his oar and thrust it up at the dragon, roaring a challenge at the monster. The dragon screeched angrily in reply – a high-pitched sound – and swerved away.
“Get up!” Harkat yelled at me. As I struggled to my feet, he thrust my oar into my hands, got to his knees and rowed desperately. “You keep it off … if you can,” he gasped. “I’ll try and get us … to shore. Our only hope is to … make land and hope we can … hide.”
Holding the oar up was agony, but I ignored the pain in my shoulder and kept the piece of wood aloft, pointed at the dragon like a spear, silently willing Harkat to row even quicker. Above, the dragon circled, yellow eyes focused on the raft, occasionally screeching.
“It’s assessing us,” I muttered.
“What?” Harkat grunted.
“It’s making a study. Noting our speed, analyzing our strengths, calculating our weaknesses.” I lowered my oar. “Stop rowing.”
“Are you crazy?” Harkat shouted.
“We’ll never make it,” I said calmly. “We’re too far out. We’d best save our strength for fighting.”
“How the hell do you think … we’re going to fight a dragon?” Harkat snorted.
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “But we can’t out-pace it, so we might as well be fresh when it attacks.”
Harkat stopped rowing and stood beside me, staring at the dragon with his unblinking green eyes. “Maybe it won’t attack,” he said with hollow optimism.
“It’s a predator,” I replied, “like the panther and alligators. It’s not a question of if it will attack, but when.”
Harkat looked from the dragon to the shore and licked his lips. “What if we swam? We wouldn’t be as visible … in the water. That might make it harder … for it to grab us.”
“True,” I agreed, “but we wouldn’t be able