Dragon

The dragon perched itself on the high outcrop of a rocky cliff - but a short distance from its lair. Its claws eagerly clutched and ground into the rock, its wings half-expanded. It attentively scanned the landscape before it. It was night again. Soft clouds flowed gently before a full, yet evanescent, moon. Forested trees swept the breath of the great expanse, covering the land in a blanket of warmth and safety to the delight of the wood creatures nestled far in the valley below. The warm months of summer were passing and winter was about to make its cold progression. Autumn had arrived, and there was a hint of chill in the air. The dragon had lived here for centuries, watching the time pass, counting the moments, often feeding upon the inhabitants of the valley - but never at its own leisure. It was a paltry existence. Its days were spent in sleep and dreams of forgotten glory, always with the pangs of hunger gnawing at its belly and its every thought. It would occasionally stumble upon a deer, or wild pig, but what it managed to forage and scrape from the forest were seldom enough. The more intelligent creatures had a knack for alerting the others of its coming.

Very recently, however, the dragon's luck had changed. The Gods had sent it a blessing. The world of man had come, and with man had come towns and roads. This, in turn, attracted more men, as it always had, and this is what the dragon looked upon now. Far below, but not too far for its sight, a solitary wagon, guided by fiery torch and moonlight, angled its way up and down the slopes of a newly constructed road. It was strange for these two-legged creatures to travel at night and in so little numbers, the dragon thought. It had learned a harsh lesson, many seasons passed, to never hunt the two-leggeds this close to its den. They had an uncanny way of forcing monsters of its sort to disagreeable places, often much worse than these. But with men came horses. And horses meant meat. And, for that, this was a chance that the dragon was now willing to take. Although a few centuries were but a blink of an eye to a dragon, it had lived far too long without the necessary indulgences.

Its mind made up, the dragon spread its leathery wings and took flight, allowing the air currents to take it steadily higher and higher into the night. It would hunt them the way it always had. It would make a few, casual passes, far above and hidden in the clouds, and, when the time was right, would descend without warning...