text: Luna drew the blade from Sir Fariah’s shoulders and wiped it on the tawny grass. He slumped onto the ground, heaving ragged, shallow breaths. “That thing is evil,” he said. She said nothing, walking to the dragon lying still against the stone. “He has killed many,” Fariah said. “He has stolen what is not his.” “I am his,” Luna said, climbing up the dragon’s haunches, “And he is mine.” The creature arched its fire-red back, stretched its wings, eclipsing the setting sun. Then it rose up into the sky unevenly, blood splattering from one side, and the last Sir Fariah saw was the girl with the silver hair disappearing into the stars with the dragon he had sworn to slain. As they flew, Luna’s thoughts wandered. “You can still go back,” the dragon said after an eternal silence. “You are not unimportant, Princess.” “I can not,” she said, hugging his neck, her eyes stinging in the thick mist and fog. Suddenly everything was clear. Above them bright stars hung like lamps in the night sky. She could see Mount Tarkan and the Two Weeping Ladies in the north, their tears streaming in great waterfalls down to join the Martyrs’ River which swept all the way south to join the sea. Yes, the sea was somewhere far back where she could not see, and beyond that, a castle where she had had warm roasts and fig puddings brought to her, and magnificent rooms in which she had hid from Tutor Mary with the thin voice and flute lessons and hands so spidery she had always shuddered when they suddenly clapped from behind upon her shoulders. “Quiet,” a voice echoed, “She’ll find us.” For a moment Luna was lost in a great long corridor with velvet curtains, the hand of the tutor’s son pressed in hers as they hid in the cupboard stifling giggles. She could almost feel the warmth of the fire behind her mother’s chair-- A blast of wind from the east rushed against her face and snagged the scarf from her head. Her shoulders were cold but she was not aware of this. She watched the bright orange reminder of her childhood flutter into the cloud down below, and then meander out of sight like a sad lost bird. In front of her loomed the Great Mountains, and beyond that, darkness. The dragon dipped over the snow-capped peaks and into the shadowed valley. He landed unevenly at the mouth of a cave, and slowly limped in, blood streaming from his side. As he reached the far side of the wall, he suddenly shuddered and collapsed, and Luna tumbled off onto the ground, on which hay lay scattered as a makeshift bed. She ran to the dragon and held his head in her arms. “Hold on a moment,” she said, “Stay with me.” He nodded slowly, with effort, and she tore a large strip from her dress and used it to bind hay to the wound. Then she pressed her body against the dragon’s side with all her might, until slowly the wound stopped bleeding, and the dragon and girl fell slowly asleep. In the morning, when the sun rose and filled the cave with its golden glory, the dragon shimmered and turned into a sleeping boy, who awoke and blinked in surprise. Luna smiled and kissed him.