Clarissa demanded. She snatched it out of Ulrik’s hand for a second time. “This can’t be right. I’ve been all over this side of the mountain, and we should be here, not here,” she said, pointing to a location that had recently appeared labeled: “There Be Dragons Here.” The lettering of the label looked ancient when compared to the others that had appeared and disappeared during Ulrik’s journey. “I didn’t think dragons existed, Prester John. What do you think?” asked Ulrik. “I’ve no idea. By the looks of it, this part of the map is older than the rest; I know it sounds strange, but maybe this is a left-over memory,” he replied. “Who ever heard of such nonsense,” said Clarissa, shaking her head, “maps with memories, dragons. What next—fairy folk and hob-goblins?” The valley looked like it may well have been the home of such creatures. Tall cliffs ran along either side, leaving only a narrow ravine for the road. A few scrub oaks grew precariously from the cliff sides, leaning over the road, the dead and dry branches looked like large skeleton hands grasping for travelers.
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