When I first stepped foot into the uninhibited mountainous region—an attempt at a shortcut—I never imagined I'd find myself face to face with a dragon. I'd never seen one up close before, and if I made it out of this situation alive, I hoped to never see one again. The creature stretched its long neck towards me and huffed out a breath of noxious gas that caused my eyes to water and my stomach to turn. A swampish green colored drool dripped from its overflowing mouth. It licked its jaw with a serpentine tongue in anticipation. Barring its teeth, it struck, then struck again.

Luckily for me, even the king of all predators couldn't overcome magic with brute force. The barrier I casted held strong. The dragon reared back and growled with frustration. I could see its mind working, trying to figure a way to get past the magical shield. My mind was also working, trying to find a way out of this situation and past the beast and then out of this forsaken land. My back was pressed almost painfully against the rough mountain face. The mountains I was used to were not like these. The ones I knew were covered in moss or vines—something green—and were soft to the touch. These mountains, though, were coarse and harsh. I should've taken that as a sign when I first wandered into these parts. Nothing could thrive alongside dragons, after all.

The dragon's eyes widened, glowing a bright orange in the surrounding darkness. Its whiskers, long and wiry similar to that of a cat's, vibrated widely while the rest of its body froze. It turned its head away from me and hissed. Deep, menacing growls answered it. Great. Just what I needed. More dragons. Two new dragons stepped out from the darkness. Their eyes shone green and their scales—black from the looks of it—blended in with the dark of night. If they hadn't growled earlier I wouldn't have ever noticed them. They stepped closer to me and my dragon—my dragon?—snarled. They ignored it, however, and sniffed the air, getting the taste of my scent.

My nails bit into my palms and I prayed to the old gods that my magic was strong enough to hold all three of them at bay. Maybe if I did they'd eventually grow bored and leave me be. Maybe. A few more growls were exchanged between them before they came to some sort of agreement. Seemed dragons knew how to play together nicely. Who knew? They came at me at once, using their brute strength to test the barrier. My magic rippled precariously, but still it held. My spirits raised—they'd give up soon for sure! The sun was just beginning to crest over the horizon when my dragon—the original dragon—stomped its feet and screeched loudly. It reminded me vaguely of a tantrum throwing child. The dragon breathed in deeply, holding the air inside its chest for only a slit second, before unleashing a stream of fire at me.

I screamed. My shield held—thankfully—but I could still feel the heat of the fire. The others screeched with what I could only assume to be triumph and added their own flames. I curled into a small ball, trying to escape the heat by pressing into the cool, jagged stone wall. I could get out of this, easily. I could return their fire with my magic. I could kill all three beasts with one snap of my fingers. But I didn't. I wouldn't. They were just animals, after all. They were just doing what came naturally to them. Were they supposed to deny themselves when a meal came into their midst so easily? I groaned, my chin digging into my chest, the heat was becoming unbearable. I tugged at the roots of my hair. Think, Merlin, think!

Just as I began to think it was hopeless, that I'd pass out from the heat, leaving myself completely vulnerable to the dragons, the fire stopped. I opened my eyes and looked out. The dragons were still there, staring me down, but there was now a figure standing behind them. A girl.

"No!" I yelled, frantic. The dragons hadn't noticed her yet, but it was only a matter of time. "Run! Run!"

The girl didn't run. She didn't even blink. One dragon—a black scaled one—turned to look at her, but, miraculously, it didn't attack. She stepped closer, not giving any heed to the vicious beats surrounding her. The other black scaled dragon growled and made to charge her, but she waved it off like a mother would a screaming child. Kneeling down in front of me, just outside my barrier, I could see her more clearly now. Her skin was dark, darker than I'd ever seen. Darker than even most the trees in the woods I grown up near. Thin, too, but in these recent times starvation and undernourishment were hardly uncommon. Only those who lived in castles ate well anymore. No, they were too busy battling others that also lived in castles to care much for the eating habits of their people. Her hair was dark as well—though not as dark as my own—and clumped together in the most unusual way. Her eyes, though, they were probably the strangest thing about her. I knew the second I looked into them that it'd be next to impossible to look away. They were yellow, but not. Gold, but not that, either. No, they looked like frozen tree sap. Some lords and ladies wore the sap as jewelry, and now I saw why. They were beautiful. She was beautiful.

She placed her hand lightly against the barrier and watched with large, wondrous eyes as the magic ripples stretched from where she had touched it out across the rest of the barrier. "Magic?" She asked softly.

I nodded dumbly. What more could I do? If I didn't know any better, I'd say she had bewitched me. She stood again and looked over her shoulder towards the dragons. "Go home," she told them. They snarled but she didn't seem to care. "Go home," she repeated. "You'll find no meal for you here."

She returned her focus to me. Curiosity sparkled behind her eyes. She titled her head contemplatively and then nodded, like she'd made a decision. Extending her hand towards me, this time not touching the barrier, she said, "You're either the stupidest man I've ever met or the most powerful sorcerer to ever live seeing as how you walked straight into a dragon's den. So, which is it?"

Dropping my barrier, I reached for her hand and pulled myself up. Letting out a breathy laugh, I answered, "Honestly? I'm not too sure at the moment."

Her head tilted again and her eyes turned sharp with calculation. It reminded me terribly of my dragon, assessing my barrier. "Come, sorcerer," she eventually said. Seemed she decided I wasn't the biggest dunce after all. A wry smile formed on her lips and she waved for me to follow her down the mountain path. "Watch your step, sorcerer!" She called over her shoulder.

"I have a name you know!" I yelled back, hissing as I just barely caught myself from tripping. All these stones looked the same! It was impossible to tell which had to the potential to trip me. I glared at the girl's back, envious at how easily she traversed the path. "It's Merlin, I'll have you know."

"Funny!" She said, turning around to face me as she continued walking backwards. "I have one of those, too, Merlin."

Taking a calm breath—did she have to look so smug as I tripped on yet another stone?—I asked, "Oh? And what would that be?"

"Rhonwen."

"Rhonwen," I repeated, testing out the name. "Well, Rhonwen, ahh—" I pasued. She tilted her head again. "Where are we, exactly?" It wasn't my most pressing question. That would have been Why'd those dragons listen to you—and not attack you? Perhaps the second would have been Why'd you save me? Then I would have asked about our location. But I felt this question was the one that needed an immediate answer, and possibly the easiest for her to answer.

She stopped her backwards walking and stared at me like I might actually be the world's biggest dunce. It was a bit concerning, to be perfectly honest. "You mean you don't know where you are? You really don't know?"

"Ahh—no, no I do not. There was a sign a while back, but it was dark, and, well, pretty decrepit, honestly. All I knew was that the path it pointed towards would get me to the town of Goodwick two days faster than the other."

Rhonwen hummed thoughtfully, then nodded, "That would do it," she sighed. "I really should replace that sign." That last part was said so softly my ears had to strain to hear it.

""Well then," she smiled harshly, likening herself once again to a dragon—a grimacing one this time—and stretched her arms out wide, "Allow me to be the first to welcome you, then," she gestured to the wide expanse of mountains, "to Dragon Country!"

"Dr—dragon Country?" I sputtered out. We continued our way down the rocky path, Rhonwen leading the way with ease. "As in a country for dragons?" Rhonwen hummed in approval and nodded her head. "Surely you're joking."

"Nope!" She said cheerfully. "This mountain range is home to every dragon. They like to nest deep within the caves where it's warmer. Apparently this place is the best for rearing their young," she shrugged easily.

"Every dragon?" I repeated incredulously. That seemed highly unlikely. Still, I scanned the skies anxiously. Thankfully, there wasn't a winged beast in sight. "Really?" I asked again, "Then why aren't they attacking us? Why haven't they attacked us?"

"Because you're with me," she answered simply. "Now stick close, the path from here onwards gets a little . . . precarious."

"Great," I muttered under my breath. If the path was about to become precarious then what did she call everything behind us? Standing less than a hair's breadth behind her, I followed Rhonwen step by step down the steep path until we reached a small pass in the mountain face that led us deeper into the rock. Rhonwen slid sideways into the slim passageway and I followed close behind. We continued walking sideways for only a short amount of time until the pass opened up and revealed what seemed to be a cozy little hovel. I looked up at the pass's opening, it reached high up, as high as one of the mountain's peaks. It allowed for a decent amount of shade and sunlight to reach all the way down into the hovel, while not too wide to allow a fully grown dragon entry. Clever.

The sound of dripping water caught my attention next. There must have been a waterfall above us somewhere nearby because a steady stream leaked down part of the wall and pooled into a small, dug out hole in the floor. "You live here?" I asked, though it was pretty obvious that she did. A pile of worn and weathered blankets and pillows were piled into a corner of the hovel. That must be where she slept.

"It's where I sleep, yes." She riffled through her nest of cushions—I wondered vaguely where she'd gotten them—and began to throw some in my direction. "I'm guessing you're pretty exhausted after such a long night. Once you've rested up a bit I'll escort you out of Dragon Country."

"Wouldn't it be better if we left now? While the sun is still up and we can see any dragons coming our way?" I asked even though I'd already began making myself comfortable on the surprisingly soft cushions.

"It won't make much of a difference," she explained. "Only about half the dragons here are nocturnal. The other are diurnal. We're in Dragon Country, there's no escaping them here," she said dryly.

"I don't—how do you—how many types—?"

"Go to sleep, Merlin," Rhonwen coaxed softly, laying a blanket tenderly over my reclined body. "You questions will keep while you rest."

My eyelids felt terribly heavy all of a sudden. I'd gone several days without sleep before—the perks of magic—and had never felt this exhausted. Then again, I'd never faced three dragons at once before either. I felt my head hit a pillow and thought that I should cast another protective barrier spell over the hovel. That was the last that I had for some time.