Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Chapter 1


          A young man crouched behind a mossy boulder in the heart of a forest, peering into the eyes of the snorting giant straight ahead.  The man’s hands shook with fright, his heart pounding in his breast.  A cloud of steam emanated from the beast’s nostrils.  It stared at him with a furor hence unknown to the youth, and its immense head nearly blotted out the sun.  Scales on its hide stood out and shone in the filtered daylight—glowing embers on the back of his burning enemy, the likes of which inspired the fairy tales of old.  A short distance away from the pair flowed a peaceful creek, ignorant of the conflict at its borders.  It was a small tributary.  At either side of the water, craggy hills sloped down to form a vale, making a majestic landscape, rolling softly here and there with grass and sunlight—a bright and beautiful juxtaposition, adding to the surreal atmosphere of this particular afternoon.  It appeared, however, that nature took no notice of the present goings-on; everything was a living painting, influenced only by the wind.    

          Beyond the crest of the hills, the man hardly could see anything; steep as they were, they descended opposite their zeniths in both directions, blocking the view of anything past them from the creek bed.  Doubtless there were acres of forest farther than visibility allowed.  The path of the stream was delicate in its course—flowing in unfettered curves among smooth stones and fallen branches, around which soft growths of algae gathered, forming a luscious underwater carpet.  A few meters to the left of him was a loose clustering of trees—a rarity so close to the water, as the rocky nature of the hillside generally lent itself mostly to small shrubs and wild berries.  A patch of honeysuckle grew at the right of the young man’s refuge, the perfume of the blossoms adding another layer of queerness to the mood.  Excepting the boulder behind which he cowered, and the bramble with its sweetness, not another haven existed on this side of the stream.  The man gazed again at his adversary, who returned the favor with a fearsome glare.  The monster stood, merely fifty feet away, silent, observing the movements of his quarry, but making no advance.  Fear is a general who when he marches into battle is coy and mysterious, even to those who normally resist his attacks.  In the silence of the forest, his presence was nearly palpable. 

        


          The man hiding for his life could barely be more than one and twenty years old.  He was athletic, rippling with sinew and the vigor of youth.  He was handsome—a Roman nose protruded between two grey eyes, tawny hair crested the top of his ears, and his mouth completed the air of boyish beauty.  He had a slight beard, but little else; his chin had a shallow cleft, and the faintest hint of dimples remained in his cheek.  This was no weathered laborer.  The blow of fate makes fall on varied populations, and young men of good stock cannot escape its reach.     

          The soreness in his haunches increasing by the minute, the man shifted his weight and tried not to attract the attention of the beast.  These movements rustled a few twigs and elicited a snarl from the creature on the opposite bank, whose stalking had progressed to a worrisome pacing.  The stream which separated these two was scarcely more than three meters wide.  This distance was not nearly a comfortable one for the young man; it seemed, though, for whatever reason, to be quite a deterrent to the beast.  At the setting of the sun, the forest would become unnavigable, and the man would be at the mercy of the dragon across the creek.  Any solution to his predicament evaded him, and few options for escape exist in the depths of a gully such as this.  His countenance wavered and the tremor in his hands spread to the entire body.  He looked a moment at the area surrounding “his” boulder, then slowly cast his eyes toward the lazy flow of water in front of him.  A fire-red leaf danced gracefully on the surface, bumping here and there on the stones perforating the mild current.  Time seemed to pass so slowly, yet the sun continued in its march to the west

          The dragon took a step nearer to the man and caused him to close his eyes and tuck in tighter behind the boulder.  The loveliness of the forest began to take on a more sinister feel as the dew began to fall and wisps of fog to rise.  A disturbance to his left frightened him into action.  Scurrying through the newly descended leaves was a she mouse, whose tiny company had given him a fright which rivaled the presence of his encroaching enemy.  Collecting himself, he began to think of the beauty and wonder he had taken in during his short planetary tenure.  He wondered, nearly aloud, whether the scene before him would be the last he would ever see.  He awaited the approach of his adversary with anxiety and, though he definitely did not wish for his impending death, a certain impatience.  The silence which followed the beginning of the dragon’s advance began to cause him great distress.  With the time the brute already had taken, the moment of his pounce was doubtless near.  The squeak of the she mouse caused him to start; he held back a scream in his throat.  Relaxing yet again, he prepared to bid the world adieu.                       

          He dared to peer beyond the false safety of the boulder and at the stream below.  “If he is so frightened to near the creek,” he thought, “I might slip behind him if he has crossed it and follow its path to safety.  By winding with its curves and getting a head start, I could make my way to a deep pool and wait for him to lose interest.  I know not much of dragons, but I believe that any hunter must at some point give up on his prey.”   

          As he thought of any other possibilities for escape, he noted a certain warmth on the back of his neck.  Turning slowly to its source, the young man faced his long-feared enemy.