Hunting Of The Last Dragon (2016) - Plot & Excerpts
’Tis straight into the tale today, for this is the hardest part of it for me, and the sooner done, the better. On the way back to Doran I practised with my new bow: shot at a hare and hit a hill. The wind was stronger than I judged, and sent my arrow amiss. The road seemed longer, too, and it was sunset when I left the woods and began to climb the last rise that lay between my home and me. Most of the time I walked with my head down, watching the road for ruts and holes, but as I left the woods and began to climb the hill I smelled smoke in the air, and raised my eyes. I saw a terrible thing. The brow of the hill still hid my village, but the sky above Doran was black with smoke, spreading high and wide, veiling the low sun. Disbelief went through me first, and then a fear so deep that I could scarcely breathe. I ran up the hill, stumbling in my haste, half blind with acrid fumes, fine ash, and tears. Doran was gone. Burned bare. Trees, wheat, farm carts, ploughs, vegetable plots, sheep, goats, chickens—everything was gone.
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