Chapter 1

Hector ran through the dense jungle, his feet leaving small deep groves in the muddy ground. It was raining again, had been for about four days now, but that was nothing new. There were several times in his life where rain lasted whole months bringing with it the threat of flood or worse mudslides. None of that really bothered him or the booming sound of thunder that drummed over the horizon or the flashes of lightning that lit up the sky. No, what truly terrified him, what drove and urged him on was what lingered within the storm clouds.

Dragons.

For as long as Hector knew, the massive winged lizard ruled these lands and though he never before faced one, their cries could be heard for miles and often enough the skies above would darken as their shadows past over head.

From time to time he had heard strange tales about the dragons, how some could breath fire while oddly enough other breathed ice, that some could change color or even move through shadows and how there were those that swam like fish. All nonsense as far as he was concern, right now all he wanted was to put as much distance between him and them as possible. That was not entirely true. He held no grudge against dragons; they were clearly the masters of the realm, and their powers and dominations were seen far and wide, and however frightening and furious they appeared to the world, he could not help but feel a bit of awe and wonder each time he saw them flying among the clouds, secretly wishing to be up there with them.

There were those among his kind that said he was foolish, that their kind had no business walking along side dragons and that all they could be seen as were their pets. Well Hector had no wish for that life, always running or hiding, to cower in fear or be fondled like some play thing. He sought something grander, wishing to be bold and brave, to make his mark on the world that would be remembered for years to come.

A sudden flash of lightning flared causing him to jump back as the light seemed to reveal the outline of a dragon. In doing so however, Hector found himself landing heavily in a pile of mud—at least he hoped it was mud. The dragon loomed before him was twice as big as a full grown cow and its scale were colored in hues of dark blue and black. Another flash flared revealing more of the scaly beast and Hector cringed, waiting for it to strike, yet it had not moved an inch or even behaved in a threatening manner. It just stood there.

Way to go Hector, you just scared yourself by a statue craved in the shape of a dragon.

Standing up, Hector ran his hands along his body, removing the layer of mud sending it scattering about where some of it landed upon the statue which brought about a slight chuckle thinking it looked rather better that way. The rain began to settle, the thick dark clouds parting to allow the gentle glow of two of the three moons to bath the jungle in an eerie light. A rustling drew his attention, turned around drawing a small dagger from his waist, only to calm down once more upon discovering the sound came from a young sloth scurrying through the tall grass. "Lame beast," Hector grumbled, mainly to himself for allowing himself to be scared by such a small creature. "Get out of here," he snapped kicking dirk into the path of the sloth to frighten it away, "before you whined dragon chow." It took a bit of effort but Hector finally managed to scare the beast off to where he disappeared into the shadows of the jungle. Smiling with himself, he sheathed his dagger and slowly turned back around to face the statue.

And yet the statue was gone.

Panic began to race through him, whipping the dagger once more though now there was a slight twinge to the blade.

What the…where did it go, statues just don't move on their own. Don't they?

Hector took several steps back, glancing from side to side, praying to see—or more pointy not—any trace of the statue he encountered. More rustling sliced through the still air and mixed with it was the bone chilling hiss of a dragon. Eyes wide open, heart thumping so fierce it could burst through his chest, Hector slowly glanced over his shoulder, jaw going slack, the warmth from his face leaking out, most certainly making it appear completely white, hands trembling to where his grip on the dagger failed him allowing it fall about the ground.

For a dragon…a true dragon…stood before him, eyeing him with dead blue eyes. It had the same built and size as the statue yet there seemed to be a strange shift in its scales, changing from dark blue to shades of green and hues of black, as though it could not decide what color it wanted to be.

Hector's heart thumped even faster. These were the dragons he feared the most, those who moved unseen, struck without warning and left you dying long before you knew what had brought about your end.

Every impose within him told—screamed is more likely—to run yet fear ruled his body, preventing him from moving an inch.

The dragon slowly lifted a foreleg, its curved claws reaching out for him.

That alone was enough to get him moving. With his blood pumping, Hector bolted from the dragon, however with all the rain fall the ground had become far too loose and slippery and could go no more than a few feet before falling face first in the pile of muck once more—and in doing so confirmed his early fears. This was not mud.

Shooting a glance over his shoulder he could see the dragon was still coming for him, slower than before with what looked like an expression of disgust on its face, but seeing how he had just fallen in a patch of dung that was understandable. In fact if his life were not in mortal danger he would find it almost amusing. Pushing through his own feeling, Hector crawled across the ground, digging his fingers through the loose earth in a vain effort to escape. Deep down though he knew there was little chance of making it out of this alive. Even if he could regain his footing this dragon could easily catch up, pin him to the ground and rip him apart with its fangs or worse snatch him off his feet and carry him across the air to who knows where to be feast upon.

As he increased his efforts to escape his hands came upon a rock no bigger than his head. As he pulled it free from the ground, a strange sensation ran up his arm, but pushed the feeling aside as survival weighed far more heavily. With a firm grip upon the rock, Hector rolled onto his back, shouted a battle cry he hoped would make him appear fiercer then he truly felt and chucked the rock squarely for the dragon's snout.