It was a chilly night, and I could hear the wind howling outside my window. Just yesterday, the town crier had proclaimed that all men and women with courage must gather in the square instead of attending the Harvest Moon Festival. I couldn’t sleep thinking about it.
Who had the courage to confront a monster? But I had an even bigger worry: my mother, the village healer, was bedridden with a fever, and she needed the hidden benefits of dragon’s heart to recover! How could I let our town face the wrath of the raging beast that dwelled in the mountain?
Finally, I could stand it no longer. Quietly, so as not to wake my father, I slipped out of bed and put on my warmest clothes. I had made up my mind: when dawn broke, I would visit the dragon cave, hoping desperately that I could reason with the creature. Talking might save the town from ruin—so I thought. If it did not, then I would be no better than the quarrelsome men of the village. At least I could say I tried.
As the town bell broke the silence, I made my way through the gates and along the well-trodden paths leading to the mountain. I soon realized that I was not alone in my quest. At every step, I saw other villagers trudging toward the cave: scholars, farmers, and bakers—all hoping to save their town or seeking glory for some fanciful tale. So what if my only reason for going was to save my mother’s life? I held my head up, knowing that courage came in many forms.
We reached the foot of the mountain. Above us loomed an enormous entrance to the cave, like the jaws of a beast ready to swallow us whole. It was here, I thought, that I must declare my intention. As I opened my mouth to speak, the bravest man in town suddenly burst forth.
“Men, I convened you here this hour to announce my firm intention to slay the dragon!”
He flexed his ample muscles to display his strength, and men cheered him. But the women surrounded him and pleaded against such violence.
“I will dread the day when children cannot run safely through our meadows!” insisted one.
“Who knows why the monster is angry? Perhaps we can magically win its trust.” It was taken as a triumph; men slunk away, totally baffled by the arguments against force.
The bravest man of all decided to lead our expedition into the cave. I followed furtively among the women, praying for what seemed an eternity until we could set forth together. But, once inside, the women stayed a safe distance behind. None of us then dared to be the first to venture down the corridor that led to the inner cavern, where all these tales said the sleeping dragon could be found.
I felt the voices withering from my throat but stood quietly at the back of the procession and did nothing. Soon, we arrived at an immense block of ice, floating above a lake of lava, which reflected sparkles of light on our faces. Drifting atop the ice were the bones of many unfortunate warriors—my heart faltered within me.
Finally, one of the bravest men, acting as our spokesman, advanced with careful steps toward the ice. “Oh, great dragon!” he began. “I am Jacob, commander of this—“
He was cut short by a terrific rumble and then a roar that seemed to shake the very bowels of the earth. A flap of wings, a sharp breeze, and the mountain itself seemed to grow taller. We stood huddled together, too terrified to move.
Now began the searing pain of fire that shot forth: in a moment the iced stone and men who walked on it lost their lives. With a great rush, I toppled into a chasm, where something caught my fall in a mix of hot steam and soft clouds. For a while, I couldn’t understand why I was unscathed, but then I looked up and saw where I had landed: on a platform beneath where the dragon would sit when it boiled the warriors to death. Its heart, I discovered with a fresh shock, hung just overhead, flaming and glowing in the depths of a red, fiery pit.
Suddenly, my heart told me something: a dragon is still part of nature—of our world. Shouldn’t its heart then still have feelings, emotions, suffering?
Acquaintances of mine were crying out for help, calling for their mothers or wives. I felt so alone as I stood there, not knowing what to do. I imagined for a moment that no one would come to help.
But a voice soon echoed through the cavern: “Ella, brave girl. Do not be afraid!”
I recognized it as the one that, lying in bed when I was little, used so often to comfort me. It was my mother, who had also come, climbed through the hole where I had fallen, and sat beside me now.
“How did you know I was here?” I whispered in astonishment.
“I had a strange feeling that you wouldn’t give up but would come here,” she replied calmly. “Oh yes, I knew you were here.”
Suddenly, a horrible noise filled the cavern. In a flash of light, we heard one colossal crash after another and looked up just in time to see the very ice of the mountain burning to fine ash and then lifting and sucking up a great void above. With every rise of the falling dust, the flames shot out higher and higher, blinding us in random frenzy.
“Mother!” I screamed. “I can’t see!”
“Calm your nerves, my darling,” she gently replied. “I have you by the hand. Now, listen to me: we’ve lost our way in the darkness, but all we need to know is which direction is up!”
There was no lack of warmth now, and we both cried out as the jumping flames reached us.
“Up or down, sir, it is all the same to me now!” My mother shouted indignantly. An enormous tear trickled down her cheek; trying desperately to wipe it away, we bowed our heads.
The dust began to fill our mouths, and we barely found breath to utter the words, utate quam. Either the words helped us escape—or else it is true that the friendship that ties heart to heart will carry us through every peril and every fire.
Obeying an instinct, we now spread our arms. Precisely, as it might happen if we were birds, we each swooped to one side, then to the other as the fierce winds carried us lest we soar too high or fall too low. I felt my head growing light and dozed off, waking sporadically to see my mother still with me.
At last, stretching toward the sky, our fiery flight began to soften. Still together, we alighted wondrously before our own door.
“Oh mother, for a second I thought we would die!”
“We must lose our fears, dear daughter. To die is the least I could wish for to keep you from your duty.”
The dragon’s heart appeared still unnoticed in my mother’s lap.
“Your hand, Ella,” she quickly said.
I took her hand and felt its rising pulse.
“The warmth of dragon’s heart,” she whispered, “through the night and throughout your life will always protect you.”