The village was in full confusion and dismay, people panicking and running everywhere. The winged monster knew how to terrify without killing immediately. The villagers tried to throw projectiles at it, but few hit their target. For the dragon, it seemed like a game.
Ewan grabbed his sword still in its scabbard, and hurriedly dressed, putting on his metallic leggings, protective gauntlets, and helmet. He rushed outside, and had to push his way through the panicked groups of humans and animals.
Frantic horses galloped in all directions, free from their shackles. The heat from the surrounding flames - having spread to other houses and causing a pyre-like fire - gave off an excruciating heat that only made Ewan run faster.
He walked straight to the source of the fire, screams echoing on both sides. A gigantic shadow stood out over the trees, menacing and imposing. Wings of a monstrous scope began to flap, but the monster did not take off, causing a strong draft. He spat thick flames to the ground, anything in their path instantly melting. A shield would be of no help in front of a monster larger than a house; and whose flames must have reached impressive temperatures. Unless the shield in question was made of dragon scales. Which was unusual, even for a high level hunter.
Ewan had of course fought dragons in the past, but he had never delivered the final blow, nor had the opportunity to be able to get close enough to the corpses to be able to obtain these scales which resisted almost anything and which were rather rare. The last dragon he had fought had fallen to the bottom of a chasm, while the penultimate one had burned down entirely from his fire pouch - with which he could spit flames - and which Ewan had inadvertently punctured. It was a mixture of gas and oil that ignited on contact with a spark. And dragons produced them continuously throughout their lifetimes, which made them even more formidable foes.
But despite the fact that he had fought and killed dragons before, Ewan was not impressed to say the least. It was an imposing beast - because of its size - standing in front of him, and something told him that those he had faced so far, and who were much smaller, were only juveniles. This dark-scaled dragon was of a whole different caliber, and its thorny tail wreaked havoc as much as its toothy mouth. This did not deter the young hunter, who approached from the side of the terrible beast, and grabbed a spear left on the ground. He aimed at the monster's chest, and threw it forcefully towards its target. The weapon hit the mark, and remained planted in the chair of the creature, which made the dragon even more furious. Its tail whipping sharply against the ground, it turned back to the insect that had injured it, and tried to grab it with its sharp teeth.
The young hunter managed to dodge the deadly jaw with a side roll, and stabbed the reckless muzzle with a sword. The monster then gave a painful howl, and took a step back. Apparently, it understood that this human would not let himself be killed like the others.
Ewan then watched the monster trying to take off, probably disheartened by the wound it had received in the chest.
Its membranous wings spread above the villagers and the hunter, and suddenly fell back, raising another violent gust of wind. Eventually, the towering mass of flesh and scales flew away, leaving a village partly consumed by flames, which burned until the early hours of the morning, when the inhabitants finally managed to bring the last blaze under control. A few animals were caught up and regrouped in their enclosures, and human chains formed to pass buckets of water and extinguish the last embers. They were lucky that the grain storage was not touched, but in counterpart, three houses had been reduced to ashes.
Several horses were still on the run in the woods, too scared to be approached by anyone. Ewan watched the incessant merry-go-round of villagers carrying water for a few more minutes, then stared one last time at the spot where the dragon had appeared. Trees had been broken under its weight, or uprooted because of its movements. A tornado couldn't have done better.
The exhausted hunter then went back to bed, and did not wake up until a few hours later, shortly before the middle of the day. The smells of good food were already escaping from the houses, announcing that the midday meal was about to take place there.
He went to devour a few slices of pig roast in the common room of the tavern, before returning to his room to equip himself.
He was going to hunt the dragon in the mountain, and despite the danger, did not put on his breastplate. This would only tire and burden him unnecessarily during his research, and leave him vulnerable when the time comes. So he put on only a chainmail of dardelite (a very strong material, but also very light), and put on over his tunic. He went to harness his horse, and under the gaze of Angus and a few villagers, left the rescued village. They knew that their last hopes rested on this young man. If he failed to defeat the Salamander, they would all be doomed to live in terror.
It was without knowing these worries that the young hunter left the village. He returned to the thorn forest, which after a while began to get darker and darker. The day was still far from over, but the atmosphere itself darkened as he went on.
Soon he began to reach even rockier places, and found it difficult to move forward. He noticed that the birds were singing a little less than usual, and game was scarce. He could no longer even see the deer he had seen on the way when he arrived in Kells County. And soon he came across some gigantic footprints.
He had followed the direction the dragon had escaped, but hadn't expected to find traces of the monster so soon. He had to be cautious, for he could just as easily find himself the victim of a trap set without his knowledge. The dragons were quite cunning, and although he had never experienced this, he had heard stories of people being trapped by very intelligent ones.
So he walked a little while following these tracks; and eventually came to a sparse place in the forest, where moss covered all the stones emerging from the ground, and where the mountain top seemed a little closer. He halted, and decided to leave his horse tied to a tree. The rough ground and slippery moss on the rocks could irreparably injure the animal. The horse seemed a little reluctant, but finally let it go, after being a little stroked by its master. The young hunter finally put on his breastplate serving as a light piece of armor and advanced along the nearby rocky wall. He then noticed a huge cavity nearby, similar to a cave whose entrance had been camouflaged by shrubs and foliage.
He had a hunch that the monster was hiding there. And two dead deer left at the entrance proved him right. He pulled his sword out of its scabbard, and began to venture into the cave. The darkness was relatively treacherous for him, given that anything could happen, and lighting a torch was out of the question. It was like shouting out loud "Hey, I'm here! ".
The monster, on its guard, could therefore choose to attack him in the dark, or to be guided by the torchlight. In this specific case, it was rather the first hypothesis. Ewan wasn't so stupid as to point out his position.
But oddly and surprisingly, his assumptions fell apart when he felt a heavy, slow breathing. It caused a sort of draft throughout the cave, licking the rock walls, and cooling the air in some spots. He expected anything except to find a dragon silently sleeping; and most absurdly, within ten yards of the cave entrance. Only a large stone masked it, and if its breathing hadn't been so loud, Ewan probably would have tripped over it, getting eaten for sure.
Ewan then slipped over the big stone, and was finally able to see the monster. It was quite huge, and its head was buried under one of its wings, the beast's breathing making its chest rise in rhythm. The young hunter thought he heard the beast's heartbeat, louder and heavier, echoing on the walls of the cave; but found it was his own heart that was pounding too hard.
Sure, this dragon was much bigger than the ones he had killed before, but at the same time, it looked more slender than the day before. Ewan's eyes were probably playing tricks on him because of the semi-darkness. So he resumed his progress, and slipped past the abdomen of the monster, which remained partly visible. A good hit well placed, and the monster would take its last breath without the hunter having to fight; in its sleep. His heart was pounding a little harder, and he began to lift the blade of his sword, ready to stab it into his target.
And he realized he couldn't hear the monster's breathing anymore. The atmosphere suddenly became nerve-racking. He looked up, and his fears soon became true: the dragon had awakened, and with its head above Ewan's, was staring eagerly at him with its two eyes shining like two emeralds.