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A Cold Dish by Icurthus After a strenuous climb, they finally reached the Contour Path, the main footpath of the Drakensberg that connected the various visitor camps. Benjamin wiped sweat from his face with his bandanna and collapsed with an undignified huff onto a patch of grass with long, slender leaves that grew next to the hiking trail. The Contour Path was a broad, dirt track that had been cut into the side of the mountain, leaving a two-foot-high bank on the upslope side of the trail, a perfect step for hikers to sit on as they try to catch their breath. He loosened the straps of his backpack and rubbed his shoulders where the heavy weight bit into him, before retrieving his alarmingly light canteen. The day was hot, and the air had a clingy feel. If it had been summer, he would have guessed that there was a bank of storm clouds gathering out of sight behind the tall cliffs. When he checked the weather report before they started, it had been adamant that there was no chance of rain for the rest of the week. Maybe he was still a little on edge after the meeting he had with an old friend just before dawn. The uncomfortable discussion they had still weighed heavily on his mind. He knew he shouldn't accept the proposal, but at the same time, it was all he could think of. The very thought gnawed at his soul, and it took some serious self-control not to look around nervously at the peaks just west of them. That must be why he was so uncomfortable. That, and he was extremely sweaty. They have been climbing in direct sunlight for more than three hours by now, after all. It was the hottest time of the day, and since they were well above the natural tree line, shade was rare in this part of the mountains. It was only in the gullies and narrow river beds that one could still find a few gnarly Oldwood trees that grew in sheltered thickets. Luckily, a light wind that carried the dusty smell of early autumn grass helped to cool him off. "Goddamn it, dude," Samuel said, huffing and puffing even more than Ben as he joined him at the junction. "When you said there would be steep climbs, I didn't expect you to be chasing us up a fucking cliff." Ben just snorted and took a mouthful of lukewarm water from his dwindling canteen. Sam was larger and more toned than Ben. A real meathead, who revelled in spending every moment he was not hanging out with admirers, pumping iron in the gym. Ben always thought it was an unhealthy amount of time, and this hike just proved his point. It was clear Sam's strength was more suited for specialised gym work, and less for any natural activity, such as a day's strenuous walking. It was a revelation that had Ben smirking covertly to himself as his hiking partner unbuckled the clasp around his waist and shrugged off the heavy pack with a rude grunt. The pack dropped unceremoniously into the dusty trail. "If I didn't know better, I'd guess you're trying to kill us," Sam continued to complain. He sat down next to Ben, wiping sweat from his brow with the seam of his shirt. Ben coughed and scooted away a little as the large man's sour smell engulfed him. "Don't be ridiculous," he said and pretended to inspect the water level in his canteen. "The fresh air and an elevated heart rate will do us all good. You agreed with me, remember? Especially after everything that happened since..." Sam was glad when Ben turned away to stare off into the distance, deciding not to complete that thought. They sat there in awkward silence, watching for more than a minute as the third and last of their party slowly stumbled up the incline towards them. Johnathan was a little chubby, with a greasy face and round spectacles that only served to make his face seem more puffy than it was. More than once that day, the other two wondered if the man would even be able to reach the top. John was completely out of his depth out here, but he worshipped Samuel and would follow him to the ends of the Earth. Even if it killed him. "That was mean of you." John's breath was coming out in high-pitched wheezing as he finally joined the other two. He did not even bother to take off his pack, collapsing into the dirt right next to the knee-high, fake rock that proudly proclaimed 'Blind Mans Corner'. "Come on, it wasn't that bad," Sam lied as if he hadn't also been out of breath when he reached the junction. "And remember: No pain, no gain." He laughed when John made a rude face at him. "Please don't tell me THAT is our path." Ben looked up from where he was rummaging in a side pocket of his backpack, searching for a snackie-bag of nuts, dried fruits and biltong. John was pointing a plastic bottle with some bright blue energy drink west at the imposing cliffs of Cathkin Peak, which dominated the view. A shadowy line that looked suspiciously like a foot path was heading straight up the steep slopes, mounting a series of rocky ridges before disappearing towards the jagged cliffs at the top. "No, that is Sterkhorn Pass. It is strictly forbidden to go up there without a guide." Ben pointed to the pair of fake rocks that served as a signpost in this environmentally sensitive area. "Our destination is Keith Bushcamp. From here, we follow the Contour Path to the north, so the most strenuous part of our climbing is done for today." "Where does that path go?" Sam craned his neck to follow the ridiculously steep path up. "Better yet, why is the path even there?" "Well, rumour has it that there is a cave up there." Ben stared up at the imposing peak, eyes squinting as if he was looking for something. Only to shrug after a moment of silence. "But I don't know anything else." He shook his canteen, testing the water level inside, before stashing it once more and standing up again. With a huff, he shouldered his pack again. "Come, you guys, there is a good spot to stop for lunch around the corner. Flowing water where we can refill, and some good shade to rest in." The offer of shade and rest got some life back in his fellow hikers, and the trio quickly left the junction behind. From above, the cliffs continued to stand guard over them. Watching. Waiting. *** After they had finished lunch, the group still had several more hours of hiking to complete before they reached their destination for the night. The sun was already starting to touch the ridge of jagged peaks, known locally as the 'Dragon's Back', by the time they finally reached the campsite. As the only regular hiker of the group, Benjamin loved to come here. Already, he could feel his spirit lift as he breathed in the fresh air and listened to the quiet gurgling of a small river nearby. Around them, grandiose cliffs stood watch over the narrow valley, cutting them completely off from the mad bustle of the 'civilised' world. A thrush was calling from somewhere on the opposite bank, adding to the tranquillity of the place. He allowed himself a moment to try and spot the bird, but it hid successfully amidst the low shrubs that clung precariously to the impassable slope on the far side of the stream. Shrugging to himself, he quickly set to work pitching his tent on the one side of the terrace, which was all that remained of the hiking cabin that once stood here. Sam and John were not quite as punctual. By the time Ben was done, Johnathan had only taken his tent out of its casing, and Samuel was yet to start unpacking properly. "I know there is still enough daylight left, but you guys need to start setting up camp." Ben pointed to where John's tent lay flat and forgotten on the grass. "You'd be surprised how quickly the light can fade in the mountains." "Sure, sure," Sam said, waving his hand dismissively at Ben without even looking up as he rummaged through his backpack. Ben ignored him. He could sense that the other two were not quite as thrilled at this empty clearing, even if he had warned them from the start that calling this site a 'Bushcamp' was rather generous to say the least. But all three of them needed to get out of the city. They needed the time without distractions to work through what happened a year ago. So he let it slide and retrieved his empty canteen. "I'm heading down to fetch some water. If you hand me your canteens, I'll refill them for you as well." "We're good, thanks," Sam muttered. John waved him off as well, looking over to what Sam was doing with sudden interest. Ben nodded and let them be. He honestly thought they would be extremely grateful that he offered to walk down to the stream for them. Not that it was a long walk. Just a short clamber down to the riverbed and some scrambling over large, jagged boulders to get to the water. As he dipped his canteen into the large pool that had formed in the rocky riverbed, he heard John laugh in delight. The sound grated against his nerves, bringing back emotions he had long been suppressing. He sighed and just sat there on the rock for a moment. The sounds and smells of nature had always calmed him down, but now it only reminded him that he was the odd one out. Even when he tried to take the initiative last year and invited the other two on a hunting trip with his brother, it...only made things worse. His gaze drifted up at the jagged peaks and impassable cliffs that surrounded this hidden valley. This was the only place he felt at home. Yet even the mountains felt oppressive as they stood there. Silent. Judgemental. For a moment, he thought he saw a shadow move against the basalt rock face of Sterkhorn. Too large to be an eagle. He drummed the fingers thoughtfully against the hard plastic of his refilled canteen, squinting up at the cliffs that were caging them in. But whatever he had seen had already moved on. For a moment, temptation tickled at his mind once more as he recalled the early morning meeting with his friend, but he pushed the thought aside as quickly as it occurred to him. Chastising himself for the umpteenth time, he stood and started up the slope to the campsite again. Better not to linger too long alone with his dark thoughts. However, his restraint was undone the moment he returned to camp. His two companions had made absolutely no progress with setting up their camps. Sam's backpack lay to one side, toppled over with some of its contents spilling onto the grass, while John's was leaning against a nearby rock, abandoned. In all the time he had been away, no tent was pitched, no preparations made for dinner. Instead, Ben caught John passing a bottle of Jack Daniels back to Sam, the liquid within already a quarter of the way down. "What the hell?" Ben growled, a dark edge to his voice that quickly stopped John from giggling at some joke Sam had made. He could feel the cold anger ignite in his chest, making his arms tingle as the negative emotions he had just managed to restrain came surging back, stronger than ever before. "I thought you said you'd stop drinking irresponsibly!" "We did!" Sam said. Instead of even trying to look apologetic, he just shook the bottle invitingly at Ben. "There is nothing dangerous here, so we are being responsible." "Relax, Ben," John said. But the drawl in his voice only angered Ben even more. "It is not as if..." He bit back his reply when Ben glared at him. At least he had the decency to look ashamed. "It will be fine. It is just the one bottle." "Two," Sam corrected him, taking a swig. "One for tonight and one for tomorrow." "You carried that kind of weight all the way up here? What is wrong with you?" Ben shook his head in disbelief as he knelt by his backpack to look for his butane stove. "Priorities, man." Sam handed the bottle to John. "We got to have some entertainment out here, right?" John giggled at the lame joke and took a chug from the bottle himself before handing it back. "That kind of entertainment is dangerous." Ben did not even look up at them as he assembled his stove with practised ease. "One would think you've learned that, after what happened last year." "That is low, man," John said, giving Ben a dirty look. "Look, there are no guns here, right? So no harm done." Sam just shrugged off the comment. "Well, you have your sense of fun. Allow us to have ours." "Whatever," Ben mumbled, disinterested. He sat with his back to them, fishing out the zip-lock bag containing his dinner. "I hope you know that you will be carrying the empty bottles back down as well." "Sure, sure," Sam said with a dismissive wave of his hand, obviously not planning on doing so. He tapped the base of the bottle against Ben's shoulder. "Here, this will help take the edge off. Sharing is caring, after all." "No thanks." Ben batted the bottle away with the back of his hand. "Come on, man. Don't be like that!" "Have you ever known me to enjoy that stuff? Ever?" "Fine!" Sam grumbled, cradling the bottle against his chest as if trying to soothe its hurt feelings. "What is your problem with hard liquor out here anyway?" "Other than the obvious? There are two ways out of this valley. The way back to Blind Man's Corner, or up Grey's Pass, all the way to the top of the mountains." Ben pointed off towards the southwest, where a series of long, steep ridges overlooked the valley. "Both paths are challenging enough without having to worry about a hangover." "Fuck man, you're expecting us to go up that tomorrow?" Sam blinked at the imposing mountainside that lay before him. "There is no way I'm climbing that!" "That is the route we talked about," Ben said, trying and failing to hide his vengeful smirk. "Also, we specified in the Mountain Registry back at Monk's Cowl Camp that we are going that way, so we are kind of committed already." "You mean, the route YOU specified?" John also did not sound very impressed. "Getting up here today took everything I had. That WILL kill me." "You are free to go back and sign yourself out again," Ben muttered. He didn't look up at his two companions. He didn't want them to see the look in his eyes. Instead, he was bending over his stove, focusing on heating his trail dinner. "Just be sure to turn off at the right junction. Take a wrong turn-off, and you'll be heading off to Cathedral Peak... five days' hike north of here. Miss the turn-off, and you will be taking the route to Injisuthi two days to the south." "Fuck you, man," Sam grumbled and drowned his anger in the bottle. "Maybe I need THIS just to survive your hard-headedness." "Look, we all NEED to get out of the city, especially after the year we had," Ben hissed, his tone making it clear that he was not going to argue the point. "We need to do something to try and get a fresh start." "Are you still on about that?" Sam hissed back. "Look, man, we told you we're sorry for what happened. But you know it was just an accident. The courts agreed." "You mean your father agreed." Ben snarled as he shut off his stove and packed up his cooking gear. His food was still cold, but he could no longer keep their company. "We have a difficult day tomorrow. So make sure you eat well and get enough rest." "Ben," John tried to call him back, but faltered when Sam handed him the bottle. The sound of the tent's zipper ripped through the gathering twilight. And then all was quiet. "Leave him," Sam said. "We all grieve in our own ways." "Maybe bringing booze on this trip wasn't such a good idea," John pointed out, but still took a swig from the offered bottle. "Wasn't it drinking irresponsibly that started this mess in the first place?" "Chill," Sam said as he took the bottle back. "Let Ben climb his fucking mountain. Everything will be back to normal before you know it." *** It was still dark when the scream startled Johnathan to wakefulness. He swore and sat up straight, immediately regretting shifting too quickly as the headache also woke up. A dull pressure, like his skull imploded right between his eyes, throbbed all over his face. He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back a light wave of nausea that overcame him. He was disoriented for a moment, looking around as he tried to locate his glasses on his nightstand, until the slightly clammy sleeping bag reminded him of where he was. He swore again and fumbled around the tent, getting even more tangled up before finally locating the torch. A moment later, he consulted his cell phone. The display read 4:12. He groaned, more annoyed at being awake than the throbbing hangover threatening to split his head open. Something woke him, right? Someone screamed... or was that just a nightmare? He couldn't recall what he was dreaming about. "Ben? Did you hear something?" he called through the nylon tent. No answer. "Ben? You awake?" He fumbled some more, putting up a racket as he tried to escape the constricting sleeping bag. When he was finally free, he yanked the zip of his tent open with one sharp tug. The bright beam of his flashlight lanced into the night as he leaned out and illuminated the tent on the far side of the terrace. Ben wasn't there. His tent was open, the flap yawning like a dead fish. But the man was nowhere in sight. "Ben?" John stared dumbfounded at the empty tent, almost as if he couldn't register what he was seeing. Then panic started to set in. "Ben?" John called again, louder this time as his flashlight swished this way and that, the bright beam flashing across the area. "Ben!" "What is going on?" Sam grumbled as he zipped his own tent open and squinted out at him. "Did you not hear that?" John's already squeaky voice was a little higher-pitched than normal. He was completely out of his tent by now, desperately searching the immediate vicinity of the campsite for their missing guide. "Hear what?" Sam asked through a tired groan. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he fumbled around for his phone. "Fuck man, it is four in the morning. What is the matter with you?" "Someone screamed. It came from there." John spoke softly, flashing his light in the direction he thought he had heard the commotion earlier. North-east. Towards the entrance of the valley. "And Ben is gone." "Maybe he went for a piss and fell into a ditch," Sam remarked callously and started to close his tent again. "You know tents don't come with indoor plumbing." "It wasn't that kind of scream," John insisted. "Do you think it is Marihuana smugglers?" "And you're advertising we are here with your flashlight?" "Oh, shit!" John smothered his light against his shirt as he fumbled to switch it off. Sam just laughed at his friend. "Look, man, I'm sure..." Whatever he wanted to say was lost as something screamed again. Only this time it was definitely not human. The unnatural roar echoed down the valley, the cliffs on either side of the valley trapping and reinforcing the ancient challenge to everything that moved. John dropped his flashlight, the plastic hull landing with a dull thud in the grass as he stumbled backwards and ended up flat on his back. The roar continued for several seconds, enough time for him to scramble in a crabwalk towards Sam. "Tell me you heard THAT!" John hissed at Sam, who had fled instinctively deeper into his tent. "What WAS that?" "How should I know?" Sam snapped. "And keep your voice down!" "Do you think it is a dragon?" John tried to get to his feet, but he was shaking so badly that he couldn't get up. "What the fuck gave you that idea? You know dragons aren't real!" "What are these mountains called?" John retorted. "Do you think it got Ben?" "Don't be ridiculous." Sam sneered at the quivering man, but made no move to leave his tent either. "And I said to keep your voice down. It was probably just a leopard or something. They don't hunt people." The thing roared again, but this time it was followed by a harsh whoosh that sounded suspiciously like a heavy canvas snapping in the wind. The flapping sound repeated two or three times more as the thing ascended into the sky. Then something large glided across the silver face of the half moon. John did not hesitate and scrambled into Sam's tent even as the other man tried to zip the flap shut in his face. "I told you it was a dragon!" John's whining drowned out any complaints Sam was uttering at the man crashing into his tent uninvited. "And it ate Ben! I am sure of it! And we're next. What are we going to do? What are we going..." "Shut up," Sam hissed under his breath. When John didn't want to listen, he clamped his mouth shut and wrestled him down. "Do you want that thing to come here and look for a second course?" John finally started to calm down, but whether it was because Sam's logic got through to him or the terror was getting too much, he wasn't sure. Nor did he care. "Look, if we want to survive, you must do exactly as I say. Understand?" John breathed heavily for several heartbeats before finally nodding to Sam. "What can we do, other than hide and pray we don't become prey?" he asked, voice still very high-pitched when the hand was removed from his face. "There is only one way out, and it is being guarded by a freaking dragon." "We are much smarter than a stupid beast," Sam said, pinching his nose as he tried to think this through. It was amazing how adrenaline could mask the effects of a hangover. "Didn't Ben say he planned on climbing up the slope just south of here? We can take the pass up and out of this trap he led us into. We'll just disappear, while the dragon waits fruitlessly for us by the entrance of the valley." "Dragons can fly." For once, John didn't sound very impressed with Sam's idea. "And I don't remember any cover on the mountainside. The dragon will see us long before we can get to the top." "So we climb the route in the dark." Sam nodded and grinned to himself, very much satisfied with his escape plan. "We leave everything behind, especially the flashlights. If we can get to the top before the dragon knows we are gone, we will be golden. That fucker will need to be satisfied with just one meal tonight." "Are you crazy?" John whimpered as he looked up at the side of the tent, imagining the mountainside that had terrified him the evening before. "Do you even remember how steep the mountains are? We cannot climb out of here in the dark." "Do you have a better idea?" Sam sneered. "This valley is too narrow to risk trying to sneak past the dragon, so the direction we arrived from is out of the question. We only have the one option." "Have you ever heard of a real dragon attack anywhere in the Drakensberg?" John sneered back. "Maybe this thing just hunts at night? Maybe, it will leave us alone now that... well... now that Ben is..." Before Johnathan could talk any sense into Sam, he was interrupted when something large landed with a heavy thud on the very terrace where the three tents had been pitched. For added effect, the dragon uttered a furious snarl before a flash of fire illuminated the side of the tent. Sam cursed aloud, and John squealed in terror. All thoughts of strategy fled the humans' minds, and they scrambled from the tent, each taking a different direction into the night as they fled in a blind panic. *** The dragon sat down on his haunches, smirking self-satisfied as he watched the two clumsy creatures throw all logic to the wind and disappear into the dark. A little display, a touch of fire, maybe a growl for effect, and all humans succumbed to their base instinct. They were the perfect prey animals. And they knew it. Malkip once mentioned that their science confirmed it: On a food-chain index from one to five, humans scored just above two. He was glad Malkip finally came to see things his way. The dragon waited for a bit as he listened to the humans stumble over boulders and crash through the grass. He was in no hurry to go after them just yet. If he wanted to be efficient, he could just have torched their tents while they slept. Consumed cooked meat for a change. But it has been several years since he last hunted humans. He could afford to revel in the upcoming hunt. After all, their fate was sealed the moment Malkip stopped protecting them. They were in his domain now, at his mercy. Now, they were just food. But which one should he go after first? By the sounds of the panicked whimpering and the thumping of feet, he could easily follow their movements in the dim moonlight. The more muscled of the two sounded like he was trying to find the trail up the mountain. A foolish choice. If the human knew these Mountains at all, he would have realised that it was the long way back to the safety of civilisation. A two-day trek around the very mountain where the dragon laired, with nowhere to hide once the climb starts. The dragon smirked. It will be easy to catch up to him later. Ironically, it was the overweight one who deserved the dragon's immediate attention. The lack of swishing grass suggested that the man had found the path they had entered the valley with. That could be trouble. Nothing serious to be worried about, though. It took a fit human in broad daylight more than an hour of determined walking to reach the entrance of the valley from here, and the dragon doubted this particular prey was fit enough to last the distance. But it was easier to navigate a known route, and more importantly, the trail kept close to the river. Even if the valley was narrow and only navigable for anything without wings on one side of the river, it still gave his prey more options to evade him. Especially if the man got tired and realised the thickets in the riverbed could offer him places to hide. The thick brush that grew sporadically in the riverbed will undoubtedly confound the dragon's tracking ability. And there were even a few spots where the plant growth was thick enough to keep the human safe until the sun was high in the sky and the dragon had to retreat back to his lair, lest he attract the attention of too many humans. While it will make his hunt more interesting, he cannot afford either of the prey to escape. If too many humans knew that he was here, hunting them, things would get troublesome in the long run. With a determined snarl, he took to the sky once more. The fat man was making surprisingly good progress for someone of his stature. It was amazing how fear can drive anyone to achieve otherwise impossible feats. But with speed comes recklessness. It was an easy thing for the dragon to pinpoint his prey's location in the dim moonlight. Easier still to fold his wings, accelerate into a dive, and crash into the human's back. The man squealed something terrible as the dragon's claws sank into his shoulders, a sound that was cut off abruptly as the momentum of his attack carried both predator and prey over a small but steep embankment. For a moment, the dragon lost his hold on his quarry as they tumbled into the riverbank. He fell hard onto his back, a clump of gnarly shrubs breaking his fall. The human was not as lucky. A loud snap and a bloodcurdling scream told the dragon that the game was up. As he rolled himself onto his feet again, the tell-tale tang of blood already started to suffuse the air. The dragon took his time to stalk up to his prey, easily locating his quarry again as he followed the sounds of pained whimpering and mindless begging for mercy that would not be granted. To his credit, the human was still not giving up. Even with all hope lost, he was trying to drag his broken body through the grass, away from his predator. The soft mumbling turned into another scream of absolute terror when the dragon slammed his forepaw down, trapping the human's unbroken leg beneath his claws. The dragon leaned forward, bringing his muzzle to within an inch of the human's head. A puff of rancid breath, laced with thick smoke, finally silenced the man. The dragon only spoke when an eerie silence fell between predator and prey. "Time to go ask Edward for forgiveness." The dragon's voice was deep and rumbling, the syllables twisted by the awkward shape of the maw and tongue. Yet, the phrasing was clear, the message understandable. The fat man blinked in shock as he heard the monster that was about to kill him speak. Then a second later, his eyes grew round with recognition. The dragon's smirk deepened as he saw realisation on his victim's face, of what was happening. And why. The dragon did not give the human time to respond. Even as the gasp of shock left the man, the dragon struck. With a furious growl, his jaws clamped down forcefully around the human's head and shoulder, his teeth sinking into the spongy ribcage. With the power of a true apex predator, the dragon shook his head, flinging his prey violently from side to side. He only ceased shaking his victim when his prey stopped moving. The dragon was still growling as he manoeuvred his food into a better position with a series of dexterous flicks of his maw, aligning his prey's head with his throat. Then, tilting his head back, he started to swallow. A human was a large species of prey animal, even for a dragon, and it took him four swallows to work most of his food's bulk into his gullet. But once the chubby belly had passed over his tongue, the process of consumption went much smoother. Two more swallows and all that was left of his meal was a satisfying lump of pressure in his throat that quickly slid down his elongated neck. He huffed and licked the taste of lingering blood from his lips as the bulge disappeared into his chest. As far as the dragon was concerned, all evidence of the life that had just been snuffed out vanished along with it. The dragon purred to himself as he lay down on his side, very much satisfied with the produce of tonight's hunt already. Languidly, he started to clean his paws and muzzle, savouring the taste of blood as he licked his scales clean. He took his time. He was in no hurry. He was well fed and secure in his position at the top of the food chain. When he was adequately clean again, he rolled over onto his back and stretched with lazy satisfaction. It had been too long since he felt the comforting weight of a full belly. A meal like the one he just finished could easily sustain a creature like him for up to a week. He was even tempted to return to his cave and sleep his meal off in a contented stupor. But he had one more human to hunt tonight. While his lair was a more comfortable place where he could work his meal down in preparation for the last hunt of the night, he did not want to grant the surviving human even the slightest chance of getting out of this. If the man stopped to think about his situation carefully, he might realise that the more overgrown riverbed downstream offered the best chance of escaping. He might double back and try to sneak past the dragon while he was sleeping off his dinner. That was a risk the dragon would not tolerate. He could not allow any witnesses to get back to civilisation. So he dozed lightly as only an apex predator can, while he lay where he had eaten his meal. Half asleep, yet keeping an ear to the wind. Listening for any tell-tale rustle of grass that would betray movement around him. Guarding both the route that led to salvation and the river that offered protection, as he waited for the lump in his side to melt down to a more manageable size. *** The dragon only stirred again when a distant lark greeted the approaching dawn, announcing to all who understood its song that it had survived another night. The dragon gave a languid yawn, flashing dangerous fangs in the grey light of predawn. Above the jagged cliffs of the mountain where he had his lair, he could see the sky turn silver once more. The new day was approaching fast, and soon the sun would rise. And with the bright sunlight, his ability to move without being noticed by other hikers will be greatly diminished. Even if they were in a remote corner of the wilderness, it was time to finish his hunt. Luckily, the heavy weight in his midriff had reduced enough for him to move properly again, rekindling his interest in the last human. He sniffed the air, confirming that his remaining prey had not approached his position while he was dozing, before he rolled onto his paws again. He had given the man enough time to lay down a proper track for him to follow. Hopefully, he used it wisely. The dragon was still satisfied after his previous meal, but the prospect of another hunt made his scales tingle with predatory excitement. While he enjoyed his night up to now, he silently hoped this last hunt would be more entertaining than the one before. The dragon stood up slowly and stretched his back with another delightful yawn, his tongue curling with the simple pleasure of being alive. He was fully awake now, and quickly tested the reduced bulge in his stomach with a forepaw. Satisfied, he climbed the slight incline back to the human footpath and walked leisurely to the patch of grass where three abandoned tents stood in a jagged line. Sure, flying would be easier and quicker, but he had enough time not to rush tracking his prey. And to be honest, he wanted to drag this last hunt out a little, enjoy himself to the fullest. Who knows when he will have another opportunity like this? When he reached the campsite, he sniffed around and quickly located the scent trail of the last human. Just like he had expected, the man fled directly south and across a relatively flat section of grassland. And so, he completely missed the only trail that led up the steep ridgeline and out of the valley. Instead of fleeing to the illusion of safety, he was heading straight into an inescapable trap. A quick search of the area also revealed that his prey had not realised his mistake in time, and didn't double back again. The man was truly trapped now. Smirking, the dragon started to stalk after him, easily following the pungent odour of the human that smelled of regular alcohol abuse. So this was the man he was truly after. The trail continued in a straight line, staying almost parallel to the river until it disappeared over the edge of a ditch. The dragon sniffed curiously as he dropped into the trench where a seasonal river had carved out a path down the mountainside, and picked up a light coppery scent of blood. It turned out that the last human had not been smart either. Like most humans the dragon had encountered, his remaining quarry had stopped thinking properly the moment he had been scared enough. Thinking of nothing but putting as much distance between him and danger, as quickly as possible. The dragon sniffed around the spot, immediately picking up the trail again. Places to hide were not as abundant this far up in the valley, and the encroaching slopes of the surrounding mountains made traversing the terrain on either side of the river nearly impossible. In fact, from where he had slipped and fallen into the ditch, the human had only two options left to him: Follow the river downstream to where the dragon had eaten his friend, or continue deeper into the valley that trapped him. No surprise which path he chose. The dragon followed the trail across the large boulders that lay strewn in the riverbed, tracking his prey as the man fled further upstream. The route was difficult, and more than once, he found places where the human had to wade through a deep pool to continue. Small thickets that grew along the riverbed made the progress challenging for both predator and prey, but luckily for the dragon, none of them were large or thick enough to offer shelter for the fleeing human. As the first rays of the rising sun started to bathe the high peaks around them in golden light, the dragon came across the point his quarry had finally taken a moment to rest and reconsider his options. Apparently, this was where the first light of day found him, and he had concluded that sticking to the river had been a terrible idea. Granted, this far away from the official track, the mountain slopes were funnelling the river into a claustrophobic gully from which anyone could see escape would be impossible. All around him, several ridgelines and cliff-faces twisted like the fingers of his forepaw down from the higher slopes, narrowing the valley and reducing traversable terrain to nothing. Even with his wings, the looming cliffs made the dragon feel hemmed in. With his options reduced so drastically, the human made the last bad decision of his life. From here, the scent trail revealed that he climbed out to the riverbed, trying to scale the steep slope and, in doing so, leaving all forms of cover behind. Even from the riverbed, the dragon immediately spotted his prey higher up the mountainside. He was navigating his way across broken terrain at the base of a cliff of pale sandstone as he searched in vain for the way higher. Despite himself, the dragon chuckled as he watched the man for a moment. He had to admit that he was impressed with the human's dedication to survive. It was quite the feat for a human to get up there, across the rough terrain, even without an obviously injured leg. Such determination was worthy of admiration, even by his predator. And the dragon had to admit that following his track through the boulder-strewn riverbed was surprisingly entertaining. Had they met under different circumstances, he might even have been tempted to give the human a name. He had done so before. But not today. Today, the dragon intended to get rid of him. Today, he was just food. It was time to end this chase. Favouring speed over caution now that he knew where his prey was, the dragon leapt into the air again. The snap of his wing membranes echoed through the narrow canyon, alerting the human up on the side of the mountain that he had been caught. The man spun around, but his injured leg gave out from under him, and he collapsed to the ground. The dragon watched, a little disappointed that there would be no extended chase, as the man started to roll down the steep slope, howling in pain as he caused himself even more grievous injuries. A heartbeat after the human had come to a stop in the riverbed once more, the dragon landed with a heavy thud next to him. "Going somewhere, breakfast?" he growled, needlessly pinning his prey beneath a large forepaw. "Please," the man begged, coughing up blood. He was wheezing, and by a slight gurgle to his breath, the dragon guessed he had punctured a lung. He had hoped to play a little with this one, but it was doubtful how much longer the human would be able to breathe. "The other guy...he'll be tastier...more fat content..." "It is always interesting how quickly your kind can turn on one another for the slightest benefit." The dragon said with a disdainful snap of his jaw. "Your friend is already digesting in my gut. And I'm still hungry." "Don't eat me, please," the human tried again, "I'll do anything..." "You've had your chance!" the dragon snarled, leaning his weight onto the man's chest. "Instead, you showed no pity for Edward's death." The man's eyes grew wide with horror. He tried to utter something, a name, but his last word came out in a wet gurgle before his ribs caved in. The dragon watched coldly as the man coughed up blood and died. Only when he was sure his prey was dead did the dragon let him go. Like before, he picked his meal up with surprisingly delicate jaws and skilfully manoeuvred his head towards the back of his maw, before swallowing him down in a series of heavy gulps. He sighed in satisfaction, rubbing his one forepaw over the fresh bump in his side where his breakfast had settled. It has been more than a century since he ate this well, when Eland antelopes still roamed these slopes. Satisfied after an entertaining night, and so full that he felt like bursting, he stretched and licked the lingering flavour off his lips. The first rays of sunlight began to creep down the mountain slopes, bathing the entire valley in the most gorgeous golden morning light. For a moment, he was tempted to find an outcropping of flat rock where he could lie down and wait for the sun's warmth to reach him. The heat of the sun would help him digest better, and then he wouldn't have to haul all this weight back to the mountaintop. And he was, after all, 'well off the beaten track' as Malkip would say, so the chance that passing humans might see him this deep into the valley was practically non-existent. But he had survived this long, precisely because he did not take unnecessary risks. Like any reptile, he was at his most vulnerable when digesting, especially if it was such a large meal as the one he consumed this night. It was for the best that he return to the security of his cave, where he could sleep in peace as he waited for all the meat he ate to melt down into nutrients. Reluctantly, he spread his wings and took to the sky one last time. Then, as he ascended high enough to see the deserted campsite again, he saw movement between the abandoned tents. Grinning to himself, he veered towards the camp one last time. One last visit to the bottom of the valley today wouldn't hurt. He landed with a woosh of wind and a heavy thud that made the bulge in his stomach shift uncomfortably. The human, who was busy packing up one of the tents, did not even look up from his work. "Volunnir." Benjamin spoke the title quietly as he acknowledged the dragon's presence. "Malkip," Volunnir returned the greeting, lowering his muzzle to press his snout softly against the human's shoulder. "I'm surprised you have not left the valley by now." "You know I had to fetch my survival gear." Benjamin swallowed nervously at the satisfaction in the dragon's voice. "I take it, you are done?" he asked, twisting to look back at the dragon. But the human could not bring himself to make eye contact with the predator behind him. Instead, his gaze lingered on the obvious bump in the dragon's side. "I am," Volunnir said with a delighted purr, idly licking at the claws of his one forepaw. "Thank you for the night's hunt. I haven't eaten this well in decades." "Please don't thank me. You're the one who offered vengeance for my brother." A shiver ran through Ben's body, and he turned his attention back to folding up his tent, committing to the task with a determination that had the dragon chuckle. "What changed your mind, if I may ask?" Volunnir twisted his head in interest as he watched the human work. "Between yesterday morning and evening, I mean. You've been hesitant about this whole thing since I first mentioned it. So why did you decide to go through with it so determinedly at the last moment?" Ben strapped the bag containing his tent to his backpack with an irritable grunt before sitting up straight. He didn't look at the dragon; instead, he glanced off to the side where discarded trash glittered between the grass. The empty bottle of Jack Daniels, which lay shattered at the base of a large boulder. "Broken promises," was all he said. "All beings capable of speech break promises all the time. It is more a sign of intelligence, hardly a crime worthy of the death penalty," Volunnir said with a snort. "It was more than just a promise to me! The one call S..." Ben started to explain, but he was interrupted by a furious snarl from the dragon. "Do NOT name them," Volunnir growled, snapping his jaws at Ben for emphasis. "They are just food, and they will stay like that. I may have been the one to suggest getting vengeance, but beyond their crime, I will not carry the burden of their individuality. Do I make myself clear, Malkip?" Ben stumbled back and fell flat on his back at the dragon's rant. He panted and nodded quickly, hoping to appease the snarling dragon. Volunnir growled deep in his throat one last time before giving the human his space again. Ben breathed heavily as he righted himself once more, though he kept his distance from his draconic friend for the time being. "What I meant to say was, after they got drunk on the hunting expedition last year and shot my brother, they promised to be much more responsible." Ben shuddered as he glanced at Volunnir again, the name the dragon had given him serving only to remind him of the strenuous relationship he had with the dragon. He may be friends with him, but he was not the dragon's equal. It was more accurate to say that he was the dragon's pet. "But they have broken that promise time and again. Last night, I realised that everything they have said on the subject was only to appease everyone around them. Especially his father, who was the judge who let them off the hook. They never had any intentions of changing their ways." The dragon hummed as he considered the explanation. "Makes sense, I guess." He watched Ben slink back to his backpack and start to secure the straps. "Are you coming up to my cave?" he asked when the human lifted the bag onto his shoulders with a huff. "I would appreciate some company while I digest my meal." Volunnir couldn't suppress the chuckle as his little pet shuddered at the suggestion. "Not today," Ben said, maybe a little too quickly. "I need to be heading in the direction of Cathedral Peak, and continue with the plan we discussed. It is for the best that I am not associated with... their disappearance." Volunnir rumbled softly as he looked more closely at his pet. Slowly, a sly smirk split his muzzle. "No one knows you're here, do they?" Ben shook his head. "I did not add my name in the book at the bottom of the mountains when I signed us in," Ben admitted, shamefully looking at the ground. "All this time pretending to take mercy on them, you still considered accepting my proposal?" Volunnir laughed. "I had trust issues." "That is understandable," Volunnir said, still smirking as he spread his wings in preparation for taking off again. "Will you at least visit me before you leave the Dragon Mountains? All evidence of your enemies will be gone in a few days." "I might." Ben forced a smile. In truth, he wanted to be left alone for a bit to internalise what he had done. The dragon grinned, his teeth flashing brightly in the morning sun. "I will look forward to it then," he said, and took off without another word. Ben watched the dragon ascend into the sky, wheeling twice overhead before veering off towards his cave at the top of Sterkhorn Peak. He failed to suppress a shudder as the reality of what he had committed to crashed into him for the umpteenth time. Even though he didn't want to, his gaze drifted to the abandoned tents next to him, still open as the other had left them. Volunnir always liked to call the sharing of names 'the burden of individuality'. He never understood what the dragon meant with that phrase until now, with the abandoned belongings of his dead hiking companions littering the site. Clenching his fist, he forced his mind away from the horrifying truth of what he had become. He snatched at his hiking poles and, with a determined stride, he started to head out of the valley. The saying goes that when you plan vengeance, you start by digging two graves. The one for his enemies is now filled. The empty one that remains will hang over his head for the rest of his life. end.