Dragon Chaser
Another day, another dragon
A sound hauled Roscoe from sleep. The source of the commotion was unmistakable: a dragon.
Roscoe bounded for the observation window in the front room. There was no sign of the hated beast, but the low rumble of its assault on neighboring dens told Roscoe that an attack was imminent.
The hulking brute appeared minutes later. Roscoe threw himself at the observation window and fired off a fusillade of insults at the intruder. The dragon did not flinch. It let out an ear-splitting bellow accompanied by a cloud of black smoke and advanced on Roscoe’s den.
Ignoring its antagonist’s volcanic anger, the dragon positioned itself adjacent to the den’s sacrificial feast, extended a huge claw, and grabbed the offering. Roscoe almost jumped through the window when the beast tipped the feast into its gaping maw and unceremoniously dumped the empty vessel that had held the tasty morsels. The dragon paused for a few seconds as if to digest its ill-gotten spoils, emitted a smoky blast of triumph, and charged towards the next den.
Roscoe ran to another observation window and hurled more threats at the odious creature. But his challenge fell on deaf ears, and after gorging on another feast, the monster roared and sped away.
An exhausted Roscoe retreated to his stronghold. He pondered the mystery of why his pack’s elders left out delectable consumables for the evil dragon. The conundrum weighed heavily on his feeble mind before fading like the beast’s acidic vapors.
Soon it would be time for an elder to take Roscoe for a walk. Perhaps he would find an old bone, putrid peelings, or some other delicious tidbit dropped by his adversary.
The comforting notion nudged Roscoe, Protector of the Pack, Canine Chaser of Dragons, back to sleep, to fight another day.
K.B. Cottrill writes and edits fiction, non-fiction, and things in between. Ken@cottrillcom.com
