Prince charming's Arc

Chapter 7 of 30

Prince Charming stood at the edge of the field with the dragon three fields away. The wind moved across the grass between them. He could not shout across that distance, and if he ran at the creature, it would climb back up the mountain and be gone. He had brought it down with a gift. He had no second gift ready. He needed a way to speak without words, and he needed it before the sun dropped behind the ridge. He knelt in the grass and thought about what the dragon already knew of him. It knew the birds. It knew the ruby and the lock of hair. He pulled his knife and cut a second lock from his head, shorter this time. He set it on a flat stone at his feet. Then he stepped back three paces and sat down in the grass, hands open on his knees. He did not look at the dragon straight on. He watched it from the corner of his eye, the way he had watched it from the tower window when he first believed it was lonely. The dragon lifted its head. Its wings, the color of coals and rust, shifted once and settled. It stepped forward. One clawed foot, then another. It crossed one field. It stopped. He did not move. It crossed the second field and stopped again, close enough now that he could see the yellow of its eye and the ridge of horns above its brow. It lowered its long neck to the stone. It sniffed the lock of hair. Then it laid its own head down in the grass, level with his, and waited. He reached out slowly and set his palm against the side of its jaw. The scales were warm. The dragon did not pull back. He understood then that the sitting was