Otto and the Dragon

ONCE UPON A TIME a boy named Otto lived with his family in a house between the outskirts of a small village and the edge of a great forest. 

The house had two stories, a thatched roof, and lots of windows. Along one side of the house was mother’s garden where she raised all kinds of vegetables for them to eat and enough leftover to sell. 

Father went frequently into the great forest. Sometimes Father returned with deer or small game; other times with gold or presents for Otto and his siblings. Sometimes he came back with nothing at all.

It was a happy home, with no more fighting and sore words or laughter and cheer than any other home. But Otto didn’t know this. All he knew was that it was his home and that was enough.

Early one spring, when Otto was 10 years old, Father called the boy to him as Otto was working to refill the wood bin. Father told Otto to change his boots and pack his knapsack; they were going hunting.

Hurriedly, Otto changed into his leather boots for trekking through the forest and filled his knapsack with a change of clothes, extra socks, a small knife (in a sheath) and his lucky rock. The boy ran outside. Father was standing at the end of the garden talking to Mother. He saw Otto, then nodded his head and motioned with his hand for the boy to come to him. Then Father gave Mother a quick kiss and he began walking toward the trees. Otto ran to catch up.

He could hear his sisters, Nannie and Gwen, through the kitchen window, “Why are you mad?”

“I’m not mad.”

“Yes you are, you have a mad face.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Look, I already said I was sorry.”

“I’m not mad.”

“How many times do I have to apologize!”

“Stop it! I am not mad!”

Robert stopped in the area between two rows of young spinach and waved.

“Bye Otto!” he called. “Come back soon!” Then Robert  turned and continued up the row toward the basket mother had left for him to carry to the house. When Mother worked in the garden, she would have Robert help her. He would run to the shed for tools, or run baskets back and forth emptying them at the end of the rows during harvest, and talk endlessly while doing it. Eventually, Mother would get enough of “his voice in her head,” as she put it and insist he be quiet, which worked for a while, until Robert forgot.

Otto followed Father deep into the forest, where Father showed Otto how to hunt rabbits and squirrels and other small game. Otto tried to shoot Father’s bow, but it was too big. Struggle though he might, Otto could only manage to pull the string back a little bit. Otto frowned.

But then Father reached into the his bag hanging at his side and pulled out a long leather strap with a wide pocket in the middle.

“Here,” he said, handing it to Otto. “You  might find this easier to use this until you get a bit bigger.”

Otto took the strap and then looked up at his father in puzzlement. “What is it?” he asked.

“A sling,” he said. “See, you put the stones in here, swing it around and let go.”  Father demonstrated and his stone hit a tree with a loud thunk.

Otto’s eyes brightened and a smile spread across his face as he took the sling. Father reached into his bag and gave Otto a stone.

“Round stones work best,” he said.

Father showed Otto how to use the sling but Otto’s first shots went a bit wide and wild. Laughing, Father told Otto it would take some practice, but he’d get the hang of it. Otto didn’t find it so amusing and a dark look descended across his features as his stones went everywhere except where he wanted.