I was a boy of twelve when I watched a dragon die. It was during the season of winterfold, when every morning the hillsides were brittle with frost and the peak of Kasgerden shone bright with the snow. I was a cave dweller then, in the keep of Yolen the healer and seer. One morning, while I was tending a goat, the earth shuddered and the pointed shadow of the beast swept over the valley, bending every blade of grass to its will. The goats were disturbed and came together in a flock. They knew better than I that a dragon was near. i jumped up, spinning about. Between the clouds there was only pale pink sky. But I could hear the quiet scything of wings and smell the burnt suphur trail the beast was leaving, falling all around like unseen drizzle. Swiftly, I gathered my robe about my knees and hurried for the cave as fast as I could. Behind me the goat bells rattled. There was nothing I could do to protect the flock. if the dragon wanted them, it could have them all.

But killing was not on its mind that day. As I ran up the scree, calling out to Yolen, he was already standing at the mouth of the cave, staring hard across the yawning valley. His lips were drawn. There was a thoughtful look in his watery eyes. He raised his hand to tell me I should stop my panting. "Be calm, boy, there is no danger."

"But it's...a dragon," I blustered, my youthful voice overflowing with wonder. The beasts were so rarely seen these days. This mountain range had once been a breeding ground for them. They were legend here. Yolen himself had taught me this.

I saw him nod. His gaze narrowed slightly. "Then be quiet and observe it. This might be the only chance you'll get."

And I understood perfectly what he meant. Whenever men spoke about dragons these days, they spoke of them as if they were a finished breed.

So I sat upon the scree and I peered at the mountain. On the tip of Kasgerden I saw the beast in frightening silhouette. It was standing on a pair of stout hind legs with its wings stretched fully and its long neck funnelled at the drifting clouds. I saw no flame, but out of it's mouth came a cry I was sure would sever the air. I wanted to press my hands to my head, but Yolen had not moved to do the same and I did not wish to seem weak in his presence. So I bore the beast's rippling wail in my ears and tried, instead, to listen to its voice and make sense of its call.

Long ago, Yolen had taught me that all things natural to the earth had auma. The great life force, Gaia, moved within the most inanimate pebbles as well as through the river and the mountains - and me. Even the smallest grain of earth was aware of its presence in the universe, said Yolen. In essence, we were all one being, born from the fire of the true Creator (though he had yet to teach me who or what that was). This was a truth all men possessed but few knew what to do with, he would say. That day, I relaxed my thoughts and gave my auma up to the earth so I might commingle with the dragon on the mountain. I built a picture in my mind from that distant silhouette and let the squealing enter my head.