The clouds rose menacingly in the distance as Alaroth leapt
from his lair high on the mountain side. Even though the sun still shone on his
green scales, the wind told him the storm would be here before too long. He
knew he must hurry if he were going to be able to eat that night. There were
too few wild game left in the area, at least of any size he was interested in,
and the farmers herded their live stock in when the storms threatened. Not that
the farmers were any real threat, of course, but they carried bows and tended
to band together and their arrows were so annoying and difficult to pluck out,
and if they broke off, he knew it would bother him for weeks. He hurried to the
pass between the peaks which led to the green pastures below. If that area had
been easier to defend he knew the townsfolk would surely have settled there
instead of the groove in the rocks they had chosen. Sure enough, in the
distance, Alaroth could see the cattle and sheep as they were being driven
toward the pass. He knew some would become separated from the herds and be easy
picking. With his keen sight he could see the farmers pointing in his direction
as he began circling. He wasn't worried as they began to frantically try to
bunch the herd together. Their attempts only made their situation worse as more
of the livestock became disoriented and began to gallop off in different
directions. Alaroth picked out a nice sized steer who had become separated
behind a stand of trees. He would be able to land and be off without the
farmers ever having gotten a shot off at him. He began a slow deliberate dive
which would take him in away from the farmers and their futile efforts to save
every bit of their herds. Awfully selfish, Alaroth thought of the town. After
all, he had always left the people alone and only ate a few of the pets and
livestock when he couldn't get enough elsewhere. They had no idea how much he
protected them, either. Eliminating the forest of the dangerous animals which
would no doubt have no hesitation whatsoever in devouring one of their tasty
looking offspring. All of which seemed to have wandered off into what would
have been dangerous areas if not for him. Ungrateful, humans. But still, he
thought, they are in my domain and I suppose I must care for them as best I
might. He was skimming over the forest at treetop level now and would soon be
upon the unfortunate animal who was unlucky enough to be chosen to be his
dinner, but at least the end would be quick for the beast. A small benefit of
being the victim of a dragon, but a benefit nonetheless, thought Alaroth. A
nice big one, this one would keep him satisfied for a couple of days. Longer
for other dragons, but Alaroth enjoyed his meat medium rare and so it spoiled
quicker. The clearing appeared and as the surprised look appeared across the
steer's face, he never had time to comprehend the danger before the spectacular
display of dragon fire, claw and teeth made quick work of the animal. Then he
was aloft, passing just out of range of the farmer's bows who let loose several
volleys of arrows which fell harmlessly in the trees. Then as the farmers
watched the dragon climb into the sky with his catch clutched firmly in his
grip, one of the younger townsmen spoke up. "Why'd you give 'im the biggest
one? He would of been fine roastin' for the festival." "Quiet you.", replied
the farmkeep, "We'd a lost dozens of them without ol' Dread up there to protect
us. You know the stories of the old days." Grumbling under his breath so the
elder couldn't hear, "Yeah I know. The stories from your dad, and his dad, and
his dad, but why the biggest one? Dread wouldn't of known the difference. And
why do we take care of the dragon anyways, can't they take care of
themselves?"
