Shikari stood by the old wood fence as he watched clouds twist around the high peaks. They always looked sharp on the far side of the village. He dragged a stick through the straw, lost deep in thought. Was today the day he’d finally see the fabled dragons that folk whispered about at sundown?
‘Why do you always stare at the rocks?’ a quiet voice asked. Yuna stopped a step behind him. Her boots crunched on dry dirt. ‘You’re lost again. Is it the dream?’
‘Every time I close my eyes, Yuna, I hear wings. That call…’ he started, voice barely above a whisper. ‘Like fire and song together. They say one dragon still lives beyond the Kairo Cliffs.’
Most children laughed at Shikari when he first said that. Even old men shook their heads. Shikari didn’t care. It’s easy to ignore them until the voices get loud. He just wanted the truth. Would you keep hunting curiosity, even if it made you an outsider?
They passed through the open plains. Sheep grazed nearby, braver than Shikari’d felt since spring. At sunset, odd tracks led into the brush. Old farmer Matsuo met them at the gate. ‘Those? Wolf marks? No, something weighted moved through here—nothing from herds.’ He wiped sweat from his brow.
‘You aren’t the only one hearing things, Shikari,’ Yuna said after the farmer hurried off toward home. Could the old tales be right after all?
Late that night, a heavy thump rattled the farmhouse. Shikari bolted upright. Moonlight sang across frost-covered grass. Outside, huge blue scales glimmered where nothing had stood a day earlier. In one breath, it was there—a dragon of legend, curled around the cherry tree, as tall as four men.
‘I don’t believe it,’ Yuna stammered.
The dragon lifted its snout. Its eyes burned with calm fire. A scar traced down its chest. ‘I have watched this land since it was young,’ the dragon said, voice far softer than Shikari expected. ‘Why do you always search for danger?’
Shikari shook, knuckles white on his bedrobe sleeve. Yet he drew close. The dragon saw his wide wonder, not fear.
‘I have dreamed of your song since I was little. Are you… hungry?’ Shikari asked, making Yuna elbow his side.
‘I want peace,’ replied the great beast. ‘But peace hides from those unwilling to fight for it.’
By dawn, word had spread. Town hunters eyed the blue giant with sharp spears. It stirred before them, but did not move to attack. The mayor, sweat shining at his temples, announced a plan—to trap or drive the beast off. Sadly, none stopped to wonder if the dragon wished harm.
Yuna bit her lip, tense. She gripped Shikari’s shoulder. ‘We should help the dragon. Please, Shikari, show them it’s not the monster they think it is!’ Her voice cut above the crowd’s grumbling. 
The two friends begged for calm. Yet just past noon, a brash young marksman loosed a dart. The dragon flinched. Its tail swept dust, nearly knocking over a shopfront. In panic, villagers scattered. Several stumbled, some howled for guards. The sunlight glowed stark across the pale blue scales.
‘All I wanted was proof. Not—this!’ Shikari cried. His throat knotted. Have you ever asked for something with open heart and gotten harsh, swift blowback?
Right then, Shikari did what most wouldn’t dare. He stepped ahead of drawn steel and roaring townsfolk. ‘Stop! It doesn’t mean us harm! Look at your shadows—whose fear walks beside you?’
Many laughed, but a few hesitated. The dragon’s old eyes watched, unmoving. Slow, it bent its neck low to them. Yuna’s breath caught. ‘We fight what we refuse to know,’ she said. And Shikari nodded, heart beat-out in his chest.
The blue dragon offered answers—secrets from storms, wisdom in forgotten tongue, if they’d only give it time. As the villagers backed off, something else moved at the field’s far edge—rough black shapes fast in twilight. The dragon lifted its snout, tense at the unfamiliar scent.
‘Shikari, move—now!’ Yuna shrieked. Animal howls shook the tree line. Eyes shone red in the dusk. Shadows spilled into the open grass—scavenger hounds in wild packs. But something bigger stalked between them, dark and much, much older.
‘There’s another one, or worse. Tonight, you see more than one beast answer the mountain’s call.’ The dragon spread thin, battered wings. In that second, its wounds showed bark red, as if torn by storms. A weight settled on Shikari’s shoulders—the true test wouldn’t wait till morning. 
‘Now what? Run, or fight beside her?’ Yuna gasped, panic pinched across her face. The opaque black beast howled again. Fire crackled down the dragon’s jaw. ‘Only by tale-swap does trust begin,’ the beast echoed in strange speech.
Strong wind tore through brush as Shikari squared his stance. The two friends stood flanked by hurt scale, shadowed heads low, both sets of teeth bared—not at humans, but at the old dark beast drawing near with the pack. Yuna’s hands shook, but she didn’t step back.
A single word rose on the mountain wind: ‘Choose.’ The future for dragons and beast—maybe for the whole valley—would hinge on what these three did in that silent, stretching moment. And Shikari knew he’d made the right choice in walking to the fence that morning.
But as jaws snapped behind smoke, and blue flame sparked the wet grass, something broke loose behind the black beast—a chained shape with chained wings. A dragon? Or something worse than either friend or known enemy? The ground shook, the moonlight blurred. What stands uncovered in that glare might upend everything Shikari ever believed.
He blinked hard, tried to hold steady, knuckles taut at his friend’s side. As the shadow-haunt loomed, the final sound was the blue dragon’s voice: ‘You see, young dreamer—truth always comes with teeth.’ 
How far would you go if the fate of dragon and friend both hung on a word, a step, a promise? That’s what comes in the next breath, as black wings stretch across the moon and the mountains hold their breath.
[Cliffhanger]
