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running for his life, Greg found it hard to catch Lucky. Not only could the other boy run fast, but he maintained his pace long after Greg began to tire (though if the truth were told, Greg had really begun to tire about five hours earlier and wouldn’t have been surprised to turn around and find a tortoise drafting in his wake).
    Lucky noticed Greg lagging. “Come on, we’ve got a lot of distance to cover.”
    “C-can’t. N-need to rest.”
    “No time for that now,” Lucky said between full, even breaths.
    The two boys ran until Greg was so exhausted he expected to keel over and die at any moment, probably before he hit the ground, given where he was. This thought alone spurred him onward. Fortunately Lucky looked to be tiring too. Greg thought he spotted a single bead of sweat forming on the boy’s forehead.
    “This is odd,” said Lucky.
    What is? Though Greg tried to actually voice the words, he found himself too exhausted to utter a sound. He hoped Lucky somehow heard.
     
    “If my sense of direction isn’t deceiving me, I’d say we’re running southwest.”
    “So?” Greg said, though to Lucky it would have surely sounded like a grunt.
    “The southwestern part of the kingdom’s almost completely vacant. No one lives out here but Greatheart and his family.”
    “Who?” Greg barely gasped.
    “Greatheart. I’m surprised no one’s mentioned him. He is the most famous dragonslayer in all of Myrth, after all.”
    “What?”
    Greg had no trouble speaking up now. He managed to grab Lucky’s tunic and pull the boy to a stop. A lone branch wandered over and brushed the path smooth behind them, where Greg’s heels had left two ruts in the dirt.
    “There’s a dragonslayer named Greatheart living in your kingdom?”
    “Sure. Everyone’s been talking about him lately. Can’t really blame them. The Greathearts have always been at the center of any prophecy involving dragons. Until now. I guess it’s just a sign of the times.”
    “A sign of the times?” Greg doubled over, panting. He thought the sandwich he’d had for lunch was going to come up for one last look around, but still he struggled to speak. “Don’t you think it makes more sense that this Greatheart is the real dragonslayer you’re after?”
    “I can see how you might think there’d been a mix-up.” As always, whenever he said something Greg found particularly ridiculous, Lucky turned and stalked away.
    “Of course there’s been a mix-up,” Greg called after him. “I’ve never even seen a dragon.”
    “Well, even the Greathearts had to start somewhere,” Lucky called over his shoulder. “Come on, we need to hurry.”
    “Wait, you mean you still want to go through with this? We’ll be killed.”
    “Don’t be silly. I’m too lucky to be killed on this journey.” Lucky stopped abruptly and turned. “Of course, if your theory is right, I suppose you could be killed.”
    It was precisely that moment when a deafening roar split the air. True, Greg didn’t have a lot of experience with these things, but he was fairly sure it was not the sound of a monkeydog.
    He stopped as if one of the vines had wound its way around his ankle and pulled taut. “What was that?”
    Lucky inhaled once deeply to catch his breath. “Not sure, but it sounded like an ogre. Anyway, I’m betting we’ll know soon enough.”
    “An ogre? How bad is that? Please tell me they’re all bark and no bite.”
    “Ogres don’t have bark, Greg. Those are ents. Ogres are covered with hair, and they’re pretty much all bite.”
    “Please tell me they’re afraid of people.”
    “Afraid? No, they love people. Why, they hardly eat anything else.”
    The trembling roar split the air a second time, so loud even Lucky craned his head toward the sound. Far in the barely perceptible distance something was moving, growing larger as it approached. Greg wished it would stop. It looked plenty large already. What bothered him more was the way the forest closed in