And I have to be extra careful I don't step on him. He
always was the one to be underfoot."
Demo bartered with the village smithy for some metal tongs and
a hammer, stowed them in his pouch, and headed for lowpass. A
beautiful day, with bright sun and cooling breeze.
"Five teeth. Zeus is right, this is a silly task."
At lowpass he gazed out over the wide valley. The river flowed
roughly through its center, and the fork in the river was less
than half a day's travel away. With a satisfied grunt he began
the descent.
At first the trail ran steeply down. He half walked, half slid.
But eventually the incline became less intense, and he made good
progress. The path widened as it reached the green meadow. From
there it led with little deviation directly to the dragon's
woods.
In due time he reached the field. It was immediately
recognizable.
Rusted armor and scattered bones brought tears to his eyes. So
many brave men had died, and for nothing!
Here and there a small helmet rose only partway above the
ground. "Ah, bad seed, I suppose. Never ripened."
Then he heard it.
The sound came from the forest adjoining the field. A moan,
almost ghostly in quality.
"Do the spirits of these dead warriors dwell in yonder copses?"
he whispered to himself. Slowly he approached the forest edge.
It rushed from among the trees, fire breathing from its mouth.
Its huge body threshed from side to side, knocking giant trees
to the ground.
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