I had always loved walking in the forest, even though my mother and my older brother had forbidden it. Even at ten years old, I raced the birds across the sky, climbed trees, fought imaginary duels with sticks, and drank straight from the river. That afternoon, only a sliver of the sun still hung above the towering mountain, and the air was heavy, warm, and earthy. That day, I went farther than ever before, unable to control my curiosity.
I knew the forest like the back of my hand—where the squirrels lived, where the birds built their nests. And yet today didn't feel like any other. The summer wind blew my blonde curls into my face; Mother always said my hair was pale as snow. A faint smoky, metallic scent drifted through the air, warning me that something was close—waiting just behind a great tree in the clearing.
I pressed my hand against the rough bark and peeked out from behind the perfect hiding place.
And then I saw it.
A huge shadow covered the clearing—far too large to belong to any bird or deer. My heart hammered in my chest, and I tried my best not to scream. When I looked up, a massive dragon disturbed the silence of the forest. Its color was as black as the darkest coal, with scales that reflected the little sunlight that remained. It didn't seem threatening or monstrous—just calm, dipping its head to drink from the stream that cut through the clearing. It was the first time in my life I had ever seen a dragon.
My brother wasn't much older than me—only three years—but he always said he wanted to be just like Father. He wanted to attend the Dragon Academy and soar across the sky with a partner of his own. As I stared at the creature before me, its enormous wings rested peacefully against its sides, and its neck and tail were lined with sharp, spear-like spikes.
I wanted to run, to scream, to hide, but I couldn't. My body simply refused to move.
When the dragon finished drinking, it lifted its head—and looked directly at the tree where I stood. Its eyes were an icy, brilliant blue, perhaps the brightest eyes I had ever seen. Its gaze was calm, patient. It tilted its head slightly, as if… curious about me.
"I can't believe this," I whispered, as if the dragon could understand me, as if we spoke the same language.
The dragon stepped closer, and with each heavy footfall, the ground trembled beneath my feet.
When it came close enough, it raised its head to my level—though even like this, it was far larger than I would ever be.
Gathering every bit of courage I had, I stretched my hand toward it. Maybe it was the most foolish thing I had ever done.
Warm air blew from its nostrils every time it exhaled, nearly scorching my face.
The air around it smelled metallic and fiery—strong, but not unpleasant.
I stepped closer, just enough so that my hand hovered a single inch from its head.
When I finally touched its scaled snout, I ran my fingers gently across it. Its skin was hard, built for survival. A warm sensation spread through my hand, and I felt every subtle movement of the creature—its breath, its heartbeat. Images flashed through my mind: mountains, valleys, scorched plains. And behind all of it was freedom. Wild, untamed freedom.
The dragon didn't pull away. It didn't move or attack. It simply stayed there.
We remained like that for a few minutes, though it felt like hours. Even the birds and squirrels seemed distant, insignificant.
Then, suddenly, the dragon stretched its wings wide, and with a powerful beat, it lifted its head and pushed off the ground. Within seconds, it was in the air. I watched it grow smaller and smaller, disappearing beyond the treetops. Even on the way home, I couldn't stop thinking about the beautiful creature the world called a dragon.