The Dragon in the Mountain

Chapter Two

|Flashback|

I am a child, about eight or nine years old. My family and I are attending a bonfire to celebrate 400 years since the death of the dragon that used to terrorise our city. There are many people here, roasting marshmallows, eating food from the tent and talking. I am doing none of those things. Instead, I am staring straight at the fire.

This is my first real introduction to fire. My parents never thought it was safe to have it in the house, even on cold winter nights. "Don't touch it." My mother had warned me before we got there. "It will burn you, and it will hurt."

But I feel right at home here. It is relaxing, watching the different ways the plasma moves and transforms. I almost want to reach out and touch it, but I remember my mothers warning. I see her and my father talking to some of their friends, and the temptation becomes too great. I stretch my arm out, and the flames lick at my hand.

It doesn't hurt, what were they talking about? Maybe there is a slight discomfort, but nothing that would need such a stern warning. Unfortunately, my mother chooses that moment to check on me. She screams and runs over to me, dropping her wine glass, while everyone stares in shock. She drags me away from the fire, sets me down on a chair and checks for burns.

I feel fine, what are they so worried about?

|End Flashback|