The resounding thunder of every roar, the searing heat of their breaths, and teeth that could crush even steel… These were dragons.
Dylen watched the beasts from the window. It was time for their weekly offerings, a pack that the village had made with the creatures in order to maintain a somewhat peaceful existence. So long as the quota was met, the dragons would leave them be and protect them from any others that would do them harm. All in all, it was a good deal.
Well, there was no point in just gawking through the window all day. There was work to do after all. Jumping from his bed, the teen rushed downstairs and out the door. The sun shone bright that morning, complimenting the blue sky as several clouds brushed over the wooden houses that lined the town. The sound of beating wings rustled in the distance, and looking to the horizon he could see that the dragons had apparently finished their rounds, taking their leave.
"Did you hear?" said one of the neighbors chatting to another. "The war may be ending soon!"
The war… Dylen left to the streets with said gossip in mind. It had been a while since dragons started fighting among each other, supposedly over the fate of humanity. Yeah right. No matter who won this stupid war, humans would still be nothing more than livestock waiting to be eaten. Even in this village that supposedly had humans co-existing with dragons, the fact that these dragons still ruled over them didn't change.
The Carrot wasn't that big a store, but it was one of the only few that the villagers relied upon for their daily foods and supplies. Walking in and past a few shelves, a middle-aged man with dark hair and mustache stood there to greet him with a doubting frown. "You're late, Dylen."
"Sorry dad," the boy ran a nervous hand through his already messy hair. "But the dragons were here! Didn't you see them?!"
The older man huffed, turning around as he walked back behind the counter. "They come every month, don't see what's all the hubabaloo… " He pulled up a sealed box, and with a wave of his hand it lifted off of the counter and floated gently beside his son. "Here, the farmers need some more sheers, so get to it."
"Old man Ringken, again?" Dylan took the box in hand, grunting as the enchantment faded and its weight returned. "What does the geezer need with all these knives anyway? Didn't he just get a new shipment last month?"
"It's best not to question what Ringken does on his spare time. Now go."
"Fiiine," he sighed, and turning around he made for the streets once more. The farms were a bit outside of the village, and walking there would definitely take too much time. But like his dad who was able to earlier lift the box without his hands, Dylan too, was a mage. "Let's do this."
Blue light gathered around his feet, and like a rocket he fired away towards the nearest exit. Gods it felt good to run like this! Houses and people passed by like blurs, and he could have sworn that someone had shouted at him for his lack of regard, but still he continued to run. He ran until the houses were lost to open fields, and soon enough crops of corn and wheat could be seen alongside several barns and cattle. Old man Ringken's house was only a bit more away, and upon arriving the light from his feet faded as he paused to catch his breath. With box in hand, he walked up and knocked on the door.
"Mr. Ringken? It's Dlyen, I have a delivery for you?"
No reply.
After a moment waiting, he knocked again.
Still nothing.
"Mr. Ringken?" Several more knocks, and reaching for the doorknob, to his surprise the door was unlocked."Mr. Ringken, I'm coming in!"
No, this was a bad idea. He should just leave the package at the door and leave. There was no obligation to actually see the old man, and for all he knew he may have just been stuck on the toilet doing old man stuff. But still there was an odd feeling that he couldn't shake, and with a deep breath in to calm his nerves, he wandered further into the silent house.
"Mr. Ringken?" His shoes creaked with every step upon the wooden floor. The empty corridors staring back with an eerie echo. Was his house always this big? "Mr. Ringken, are you in here?!" He expected the old man to come shouting at any moment, berate him for trespassing and then send him home with a scowl. But still, nothing.
"What are you doing?"
Dylen froze. That wasn't the voice of an old man. No, far from it. Slowly looking up, there on the second floor balcony looked down a girl with light pink hair.
"I… Hi…. I have a package for the old man, Mr. Ringken?" he eyed the girl with caution. Hadn't Ringken always lived alone? "You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"
"Oh, the old man?" She grinned mischievously, leaning over the rails. "I ate him."