This will be a novelization of the Russian movie about a woman kidnapped by a dragon on her wedding day. The film is described as a romantic fantasy adventure film. If you wish to see the movie, I suggest you watch it in the original language with s...
Mirra held her long braid between her arms. She would have cried at the thought of what she was about to do but she felt, even if she wanted, the tears wouldn't come out. She was dried out of them. Besides, what was more important a very much alive, hairless princess or a dead one with gorgeous hair? Mirra might love fashion and fancy feasts, but she was a practical noble, and her mind was telling her getting out of there alive was better than dying with grace.
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She looked for the sharpest stone in her hole. It needed to be sharp enough to cut through her hair. She found one the size of her palm and proceeded to unbraid her hair to start cutting it. She held her breath knowing it was going to hurt before she started. She hair ripped with each stone cut she gave. The sound felt foreign, similar to when one rips old fabrics. They gave away easy but screamed one last time at the injustice of being torn apart.
Her hair has never seen a worst day than this. It was even worse than the time they cut her hair when she was five years old to handle the castle's lice infestation. She remembered crying because they were calling her a boy. Mirra wished her life would have gotten back to that time, to when dragons were just legends and not a scary reality.
She arranged the hair strands to braid them and started humming to distract herself from the unnerving silence, only broken by the few drops of water that fell from afar.
"Mirra?" She kept working, annoyed at the interruption. "Hey..."
What the heck does he want?
"Mirra, what are you doing there?"
"None of your business." The rope was almost completed. She didn't need him, not anymore.
"Mirra, I'm not a coward. I hate the dragon as much as you do, but I can't defeat him."
"That's the kind of thing a coward would say." Mirra finished braiding her rope made of hair and tied a knot around a rectangular rock.
"Mirra... what name did you... chose for me?"
She sighed before answering, "Arman".
"Arman... That's a nice name." He paused. "Why Arman?"
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