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pale corpse, her
beautiful face, once full of life and warmth, contorted in horror.
He looked at her open belly and the blood that seemed to be
everywhere, even on himself. The beast hadn’t just killed her; it
had devoured her in the most barbaric way
it could, ripping her apart from the center. It had only feasted
from there.
    His children. Twins. Like Olea, and like
him.
    He didn’t even have the bodies to bury.
    Bo cried himself to sleep in the doorway,
letting the storm drown everything out. When he woke, the morning
was cold and gray. No birds sang. He looked at the kitchen;
everything was as he’d last seen. He staggered to his feet and
walked outside. The beast he’d killed was where he’d left it.
    He passed through the woods without a word.
No tears bothered him as he staggered through the trees, and his
gut was tight. Even the air was stagnant.
    Emerging through the forest at the hill where
Olea and he so often watched the sunset, Bo let himself slide to
the ground. He sat there, legs crossed, his blue cloak still over
his back, and stared out toward the fleeing darkness of the night.
It was some time before he dimly realized that something was poking
him.
    Bo reached into his boot to remove the
irritant, finding his carving knife. The blade was sharp as he held
it in his hand, fingering the tip with his thumb as he looked at
the sky. The sun crept slowly across the heavens from behind him. I was used to being alone once. I don’t want to
get used to it again.
    Finally Bo came to a decision as he heard
something like thunder approaching. He pressed the tip of the knife
over his heart and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he drew
it away from him. As he readied to break his own heart for the last
time, the land shook beneath him, and his eyes flung open, the
weapon falling from his hand.
    Before him was a large beast, a huge golden
eye on par with Bo’s hazel ones, an equine’s pupil in the center,
its head turned like a bird’s. A single horn graced the middle of
its forehead, an undulating ivory spear. The beast was covered in
white fur, a long tail swishing behind it; not as though on a hunt,
but more as in patience. Two large, feathered wings emerged from
its back, arched peacefully. The only revealing feature of what lay
beneath the behemoth’s fur was its lower jaw; it had no fur, and
instead lay beset with black scales.
    Bo sat like a statue and looked into the
dragon’s eye. They stared at each other for some time before one
spoke.
    “ You are sad,” came a
breathless voice. Bo started. The beast had not moved its mouth,
and the deep, calming voice had seemed to come from everywhere.
“Why? What has moved you to believe your life has no
worth?”
    “ I am alone,” Bo replied,
his voice trembling. A tear fell from his eye as his heart ached.
The dragon tilted its head.
    “ I am also alone. Why is
this so sad? Many creatures live alone.”
    Bo shook his head, closing his eyes. He saw
Olea’s face, alive and happy. “I am not alone by choice. My family
was killed.” Never again would he see that smile.
    “ That is sad. But, you are
not your family.” Bo looked at the dragon, furrowing his brow and
scowling. “You have a purpose.”
    “ What? To be a monster, and
to live my life alone? I would rather finish what I started.” Bo
turned his gaze to the fallen blade for a moment.
    “ No!” The dragon said,
attracting Bo’s gaze again. Then, “I have seen it. You have a duty
to fulfill. It is why I am here.”
    “ A duty?” Bo
asked.
    “ Yes. Do you think I would
be here otherwise, talking to you in daylight where humans can see
me?” Bo just blinked at him, skeptical.
    “ What duty do I have? Could
I possibly have?”
    “ That of a mentor. There
are others like you, you know. Others who do not understand
themselves, who fear themselves. Who need to understand how to
control what they’ve been given rather than hide from it. One in
particular will need your guidance.”
    “