The red dragon crumpled to the ground, her wings snapped, her heart bared and beating with a weak volcanic glow.
The knight limped up to that hulking, steaming body. His armour was scorched in places, and ripped free in others. With his bare arm –burned and wrapped in rags — he hefted a sword.
‘Time to put an end to this,’ he said, and drew back to strike.
He was knocked over by a whoosh of air from behind, the sword clattering across the floor.
The knight scrambled to bow. ‘Your Majesty.’
Her gaze was fixed on the fallen dragon. ‘You must not kill her. Please. I beg you.’
‘But … Your Majesty, the Crimson Scourge has attacked your kingdom many times, and almost killed you in doing so.’
‘Even so, I cannot bear to see her dead. She will learn, my knight. She must learn.’
‘What makes you sure?’
The golden dragon dipped her head and touched her muzzle to the fallen dragon’s. ‘Because she is my sister. And because I will it so.’
Another microfiction for Mastodon! Image by Noupload from Pixabay.