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Wednesday, June 29, 2016

The Dragon Roared

The dragon roared. A long stream of fire came out from his mouth and the air was filled with the stench of dragon-fire and acrid smell. He roared again and the leaves on the trees shook with the intensity of his voice. Animals run and hide for their life. When the dragon roared like that it was never good. Another violent roar ensued, then all is quiet.

From his cave he can see the unbroken view of the mountains and valleys. It was early morning and the fog and dew still dotted the picture here and there, presenting a serene yet forlorn picture. The day was going to be beautiful. But the dragon did not look at the vista, instead he fixed his gaze to the charred remains inside his cave. A painful stab of guilt and sadness pierced his heart.

Ah, his little human.

Dragons have always been solitary, and they do not even like each other's presence. That is why there are only so many of them left in this world. But this dragon had took a liking on this human. He had watched him grow, a mere hunter boy with scrawny body that seemed to never had enough to eat, but with eyes full with determination. The dragons have lived long enough to see knights and kings, and ever since he saw his little human he knew he has potential. So the dragons watched his little human from afar, day by day.

One fateful day the little human noticed him. Although his gleaming green and brown scales looked shiny and magnificent in the sunlight, it perfectly blends in in the forest. It was a surprise for him when his little human suddenly stopped his hunting and looked right at him. Was it awe or was it respect, the dragon did not know; but he knew they were connected. To the dragon's pride and joy, his little human did not balk or run like a madman. His little human stood there for a long time looking at the dragon before he calmly stepped away and disappeared behind the trees.

Ever since then, the little human always has enough to eat, the dragon made sure of that. A bewildered moose would appear out of nowhere when the game was difficult to find, or a dead goose that seemed to fall from the sky. The little human knew. The dragon knew that he knew. Day by day he grew big and strong, and the dragon watched with lovingness. Humans hate dragons, the dragon knew; but he hoped this one won't. The dragon was old and tired, and he was longing for a friendly face. He was tired of all the rampage and destruction, he wanted to sleep peacefully and woke up to his little human live peacefully with his own family. The dragon wanted peace.

Unfortunately, his little human wanted glory.

As his little human grew older and stronger, the dragon started to see resentment in his face. His little human resented the dragon's help, for it reminded him that he was under the dragon's mercy. His little human was also scared of him. He knew it was from the many nights of terror he had done: where the air was hot with fire and filled with the burning smell of the men that tried to slay him, and his deafening roar of defiance echoed throughout the far ends of the mountains. He knew his little human slowly mistrusted him, and it sadden him. He had stared at his little human from afar for so many days and nights, chanting softly in his mind: "Don't be afraid little human. I will not harm you. It was self-defense. Please understand, little human. Please stay."

Yet humans don't speak dragons' language, let alone their minds. The dragon started to seeing less and less of his little human, because his little human has mastered the art of hiding and it seemed he did not want to be found by the dragon. Fear grew in him: fear of losing his little human, fear of being hated by his little human, fear of having to hurt his little human. The dragon became more tense and agitated, and subsequently became more violent. He was filled with agony and sorrow: it was not his fault he has to hurt those men, and it was not his fault he was what he was; why can't his little human saw that? His days were filled with doubts and angers, his night was filled with fear and sadness.

Then on that fateful dawn, his little human stroke.

It was a horrible battle, far more horrible than what the dragons have experienced before, and he had lived for so long. It was not the intensity or the bloodiness that was horrible, it was the fact that he battled with his little human, his dearest little human. He tried to held back, but his little human was determined to hurt him. It was during one of the final blows when the dragon, in desperation, saw the coldness in the eyes of his little human. His anger flared, and he took all his might to attack his little human. He slashed and roared and clawed, completely oblivion to his own wound or even life. His little human was hurting him, forgetting him, so he will make him pay. In no time at all there was a heavily wounded dragon with blood dripped everywhere, and a charred remain of a human.

His little human, his beloved little human.

In his pain and ache he stood there, lamenting his loss. He could have let his little human hurt him, let him cut a finger or two for his little human's glory. Or he could take him captive until his little human understand he is not the little human's enemy. But he didn't. His pride and instinct kicked in. And after all, what's the point of all that? Wouldn't his little human come with more backup and killed him anyway? Could his little human really see him for what he is, instead of the nightmare that he was portrayed? Alas, now he would never know.

He remembered a story from far away, where a faery was able to recant her course of action and instead of killing the princess that she had cursed for the payment of the princess' father's evil deed, rescued her instead. It will not happen to him though, he thought sadly as he looked at the charred remain. He had utterly, totally destroyed his little human. Had his little human respect him, had his little human understand him, had his little human did not choose to hurt him, all of this won't happen. He did what he had to do to protect himself. He did what dragons do best: destruction. And now he was left with his little human's charred remain.

He roared once again. A long, sad, lonely roar reverberated in the mountain. And for the first time, the animals of the forest did not run in fear. They stood silently with tears on their face.

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