Dear

She raised her dragon from an egg. Freckle-faced, with her hair always in disarray, she spoke to him in whispers when no one was looking. Together they flew over the mountains, the wind tangling in her hair.

He arrived at the village at dawn. Tall, with a bow slung over his back and a scar on his wrist—the mark of a dragon hunter. Behind him walked men with chains.

“Don’t come any closer,” she shouted, shielding the winged one with her body.

The dragon growled behind her, but did not attack. He sensed her fear.

"Take him away," the hunter said quietly. His voice trailed off.

"So you could kill him?" She clenched her fists.

He stepped closer. Up close, his eyes were as gray as a pre-storm sky.

• So that I don’t kill him.

She didn't move.

He sighed, lowered his bow, and sat down on the ground right in front of her.

"My family was killed by dragons. I swore to destroy them all. And this one..." He looked at the beast over her shoulder. "This one listens to you. He looks at you the way I once looked at my mother."

Silence fell between them. The dragon fell silent, tilting its head, studying the hunter.

“You came to kill,” she said quietly.

“I came to watch,” he replied. “And I realized I couldn’t.”

He stood up, nodded to his men to leave, then turned to her.

— Will you teach me? Not to kill?

She looked into his gray eyes and saw no hatred in them. Only weariness.

“I’ll teach you,” she whispered.