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THE DIM LIGHT OF THE old hurricane lamp was the only light cast over the worn table that had seen an entire generation of Walsh’s grow up. It showcased them now in its glow; Finn, Fergus and Aidan, sitting hollow eyed and desperate with their equally confused parents, Duncan and Moira.
Duncan looked the length of the family table. Decisions had to be made, and desperate ones. They had less than a day to put them in action or risk losing Elspeth to a town overrun with mass hysteria.
“What are we gonna do, Da?” Finn asked, his voice much younger than his seventeen years.
Aidan, the oldest, answered before Duncan could. “We tear the place to the ground and get our sister back, that’s what.” He growled, the light from the flickering fire doing nothing to dampen the flinty hardness of his eyes.
“And risk the rest of my children? Stop and think, Aidan; you getting killed too won’t solve the problem.” Moira hissed, running her fingers through her hair, snarling the heavy mass in the lengthening claws tipping the ends of her fingers. It was the only outward sign that she might be more than human. Her true power had always lain in the herbal concoctions and remedies she created. No magic, just plain hard work knowledge passed down through the years in the recipes and journals of her Celtic Ancestors.
“No. We can’t run off half-cocked and do something foolish. Mama’s right, we have to think this through. We’ll only have one chance to get it right,” Duncan agreed, the knuckles of his fists crackling as he squeezed them tight.
“We’re wasting time is what we’re doing.” Fergus worried.
“We have to worry about what comes after as well. It’s not just a matter of getting Elspeth out. The magistrate and judge—the law will come looking for her... and us. We’ll no longer be safe.”
Aidan ground his teeth, his own dark-clawed fingers tapping in agitation on the gnarled wooden tabletop.
“Stop that!” Growled Moira. Normally so calm, she was in a rare state of pissed off, totally out of character for her normally sunny mood.
Aidan slanted her an irritated glance but curled scaled fingers around the mug of ale he hadn’t touched, but clutched with both hands like a lifeline, allowing him to focus. “Da’s right, we won’t be safe here anymore, but at least we’ll still be together and a family. Without Elspeth, we’ll never have that again, like a piece torn out.” He looked at his father, tall and broad and a pillar of strength in their family. Today he looked old and gaunt, as if the world pressed in on him from all sides. “Where will we go?”
Duncan seemed to shrink in even further. “I don’t know. Away from here. Somewhere we can start over. We stay together as a family.” He stated, looking at the solemn faces that depended on him for guidance. They were near grown but still kids in their first year of change. Vulnerable to the iron weapons of man, susceptible to their cruelty and prejudice against anything they didn’t understand. Determined though they were, his children lacked the battle-hardened experience of a mature dragon. And yet, he had no choice but to ask them to break the law and risk their lives.
His mouth flattened to a thin line. Not that the law was anything he recognized as right or fair. Sometimes the few had to stand up to the masses in the name of seeing justice served.
“We’ll go tomorrow night.” He decided, staring at his sons, ready and willing and so inexperienced. “There won’t be room for sentiment or compassion. Nobody you meet will be your friend. If we can get into the cells, maybe we can do a partial shift to break the bars loose. Once we get her free, we need to make it beyond the edge of town and then we’ll shift and get home. In the morning we’ll fly higher in the mountains and make camp for the first day. We’ll have time then to make a better plan, decide where we can go, what our next move has to be.”
He looked at his wife of twenty-two years. Her eyes glittered like wet gold, knowledge of the incredible risk they were all taking reflected there. She knew, as they all did, that the town of Salem had left them little choice. In forcing their hand, the citizens risked the possibility of bringing to their doorsteps the very monsters of superstition that haunted their dreams. But it wasn’t a witch that was coming to play. They’d be dealing with the dragon.
#
MOIRA STAYED BEHIND as night fell, bringing with it the hint of a late night shower. Heat lightening danced across the sky, still miles off and brewing. It would be here soon enough, but maybe not before early morning. They’d be gone by then, Duncan hoped.
On the edge of town, they waited for the town to settle in. That was the best thing about Salem, Massachusetts and a town full of puritans. Everyone went to bed at dark.
They waited until long past dusk and well into the blackest part of the night, giving everyone a chance to dim the lanterns and tuck in. It would also give whoever they had on duty watching the jail and the condemned a chance to grow complacent and let down their guard.
Duncan had mulled over the best way to get the upper hand without alarming a town of several hundred armed fanatics who shot first and asked questions later. He’d stuck with simple. The condemned were made up of the poor and the homeless. They weren’t expecting any trouble. So Duncan, ever so helpful, waited until he was sure the sidewalks were clear and deserted in both directions and simply walked up to the door and knocked. He schooled his expression into lines of anxious worry. When the young magistrate answered, it was obvious he’d already dozed off at his desk and Duncan had woken him. Brows rose in irritation, taking in the stooped shoulders of the older man standing at the door, stooped and wobbly. The heavy aroma of spirits hung in the air and his eyes narrowed on Duncan in suspicion.
“What do you want?” he asked, getting ready to slam the door. “You aren’t supposed to be loitering on the streets past dark, you know that.”
Duncan nodded, lifting a gnarled finger and pointing down the side of the building on his left. He slurred his words as he spoke, to add to the effect. “Someone breakin’ in zee winder from zee side... thought uz should know...” Setting the bait, he didn’t wait to see if the young magistrate took it, instead he stumbled along down the boardwalk to the right.
Duncan concealed a hard smile when the door closed behind the junior constable, moving left to investigate. A dull thud as something hit the side of the building a moment later had him spinning back and straightening as he hurried to the door. Seconds later Finn, Fergus and Aidan entered behind him. Fergus held up a round ring of keys with a calculated smile. Duncan did not return his humor.
“Let’s get this done, my back is itching like crazy. The quicker we clear the city limits the better I’ll feel about this entire mess.” He admitted, snagging the keys and heading towards the back.
The lengthy line of cells held the three prisoners slated to be hung before noon the following day. One man, an elderly woman, and Elspeth stared at them in owl-eyed wonder.
“Da? Brothers?” she breathed, her breath hitching as she sprung to her feet and pressed her ravaged face between the bars.”
Duncan was already sorting keys, finding the correct one on his third try. He swung the door open and groaned as Elspeth flung herself into his arms with a sob. He crushed her to him for the space of a single second before pushing her back.
He grasped her shoulders and gave her a firm shake to get her attention. “Time for that later. We have to go. He turned and paused when she didn’t immediately follow.
“Hey, you can’t leave us here. Let us out.” The man in the middle cell growled, something otherworldly about his eyes.
Aidan looked back at her; brows beetled in concentration. “Come on, this is no time to get sentimental.” Aidan griped, waiting with his brothers by the door and frowning in her direction.
Elspeth held out her hand to her father. “Give me the keys,” she stated. Duncan opened his mouth to argue. The hard edge to her gaze had him changing his mind as he stepped forward himself, already fumbling for the right key. He stared at the man; fists white knuckled as he wrapped them around the bars. “We can’t take you with us, not where we’re going. You’ll be on your own.” Duncan’s glance drifted to the old woman in the next cell. She hadn’t moved from where she sat on the cot rocking, staring into space. “What about her?”
The man smiled coldly, showing a fine set of canines and a gleam of yellow eyes. “I’ll be fine.” Duncan stared at him in sudden comprehension. He imagined he would be at that. “As for the old woman? She’s already dead. They hung her youngest daughter this morning,” he snarled, joining them in the main room.
They moved towards the door when Finn held up a shaking hand and everyone froze. Excited voices and a low moan from the side of the building reached their ears. Someone had discovered the guard. Waving his fist in a circle furiously, they all made an about face, scrambling for the back of the building and the other exit. There were out of time. Fergus opened the door as silently as he could and together they crossed the thresh hold, easing the back door shut as the front opened. The woods was a dark crease on the edge of darkness and together they broke into a run. Duncan heaved a tremendous sigh of relief as the six of them made the cover of the woods. But it was short-lived. Standing in the shadows, they were far from in the clear.
They all turned to stare at the other prisoner that had escaped with them. Fergus, Finn and Aidan paused. This was when they were supposed to change and grab Elspeth and whisk her to safety. They hadn’t counted on an audience. “As we said, you can’t come with us where we are going.” Aidan reminded him, removing his shirt and unbuckling his trousers to store them in the small pouch that he would hang about his neck in flight.
“He doesn’t need our help, do you... wolf?” Duncan spoke up, storing his own clothes as he spoke.
A gleam of white fangs flashed sharply in the dark. “No. What I aim to do is get as far away as possible from the insanity in this town.” Even as he spoke they watched his jawline shift and elongate. The audible crack of joint and bone was nothing less than the spread of his shifting metamorphosis from human to wolf.
Duncan shifted into his dragon at the same time.
#
I LOOKED AWAY TO AFFORD them brief privacy. The transformation took a matter of seconds. Looking back, I was in time to see the swish of a tail as the wolf disappeared into the inky blackness of the forest trails, towards the high country and safety. Standing before me were my three brothers and Da, four magnificent dragons waiting to carry me home to Mama where she waited and worried about us all.
Finn was dark, like Da, though not as large. He would be—when he finished growing into the strapping young man he would be. Largest of the three brothers, Aidan was magnificent in a shimmery scaled coat of pearl gray, wings ghostly in the dark. Fergus was smaller and bronze. I looked at the scales that had popped free along the back of my hands and arms. I would be that pretty brown, if I lived to see my change in less than a year.
Heavy wings moved and beat the air, creating a massive updraft. A gleaming golden eye blinked at me, vertical slit impatient. With as nimble a leap as possible in cumbersome skirts, I leapt onto his broad back, tucking my knees in behind his wings. And then we were lifting into the air to the sound of beating leathered wings. Low at first, gaining enough altitude to brush the treetops, hoping to avoid unwelcome eyes. Airborne, we turned together and flew towards the high country and home where Moira waited and worried.
At the corner of the woods, less than fifty yards from where we had transformed, a figure stood blinking with eyes wide as any owls. Blasphemy is what it was. The Devil had sprouted scales and wings to fly down to hell. He had to warn the others before it was too late. Legs trembling, the dark figure ran as fast as he could towards town.
––––––––
HEAVY POUNDING PULLED Johnathon Corbin from a sound sleep and he sat up with a jerk. Irritation flared as he swung his feet over the side of the bed and they contacted the icy floor. Beside him his wife snored softly, oblivious. All that racket and he wasn’t going to get back to sleep soon.
The knocking didn’t abate as he threw on clothes. “I’m coming. Hold on a minute will you before you wake the entire household.”
He closed the bedroom door behind him and moved to the front door as more pounding ensued. Whoever was on the other side was persistent, he could say that for them.
Johnathon Corbin swung the door open and stared at the apparition on his front doorstep, swaying back and forth as if a stiff breeze would make light work of him and blow him clean away. He scowled, opening his mouth to blast Joseph White, the town drunkard and all around waste of breath if you asked him, with the full force of his ire.
He wasn’t quick enough.
“They was flying Mr. Corbin. Through the air the dragons was. All four of them flying through the woods.”
Johnathon blinked in confusion. He wasn’t making any sense. “Flying. What are you talking about? What was flying?”
“Why the dragons was with their scaly hides and leathery wings. And they had big teeth they did, too...”
Johnathon let loose with a blast of irritated air. The man was off his ever loving rocker. He wondered what rot gut he’d gotten into. Whatever it was, he had half a mind to arrest him on the spot, all of several charges he could hit him with springing to mind.
Joseph’s next words made him hesitate, a tingle of unease scratching at his spine.
“They had the girl with them. That girl what’s been keeping time with the devil. Don’t know how she got out. Twas magic; that voodoo magic, I’m sure of it. They lifted her clean up in the air and flew right off with her.”
“Girl. You mean Elspeth Walsh? She’s in jail...” he started. He’d scarce uttered the words when three of his deputies, including Harold, the same young man he knew was guarding the jail and the prisoners overnight, showed up. Harold clutched his head and moved awkwardly, the others helping to support him. He looked closer and realized a trickle of red was oozing between his fingers.
He gave up on any chance of a good night’s sleep. “What happened to you Harold? Why aren’t you at the jail tending the prisoners?”
Mark Web, his second in command, spoke up for him, shaking his head. “Gone sir. Found Harold on the side of the building out cold. When we looked inside both the girl and that man were gone. Only that old homeless woman there, going on to herself and mumbling some strange incantation. The Cell doors were standing wide open.”
Johnathon’s eyes narrowed on Harold once more. His harsh tone did more to focus the weaving man than anything else could. “Harold. Explain. The short and to the point version, please,” he ground out.
Harold focused on the enraged man standing in front of him and his lower lip trembled. He’d really needed this job, too. “Someone came bangin’ at the door. When I answered, some drunk’s standing there and say someone is around by that one witches winder’ trying to get in. I had me gun, went to investigate. Something hit my noggin...” his voice dwindled to a whisper, as Johnathon Corbin stared at him like he was something he’d scraped off the bottom of his boot heel.
A sound behind him caught his attention and he turned to find his son, James, standing in shock behind him. He scowled. And great, now his family was involved. “Go back to bed. This doesn’t concern you.” He thundered. James’ eyes widened as he turned around and did just that. But he’d heard enough. Elspeth had escaped.
Johnathon eyed the small group of men. “Okay, listen and I want you to listen good. We’ve got two prisoners, convicted witches no less, free and on the loose. According to Joseph here, their familiars were in the woods waiting for them and transformed into some winged beast.” He hesitated to call them dragons, not sure he was willing to give Joseph that much credit in his booze induced euphoria. Still, he couldn’t afford to dismiss what he said outright. He’d seen something that had rattled his brains, that was clear enough. “I need you all to round up every able-bodied man under forty with a gun and meet me on the North end of town in thirty minutes armed and ready. I’m fixing to deputize every one that shows. We have some witches to hunt down and hang.
#
AIDAN’S FEET HAD SCARCE touched down when I was up and running, flinging myself into Mama’s soft arms with a sob. We stood shaking, clutching at each other as the terror of the last few days washed through us.
“Oh Mama, I thought I was going to die and never see you, any of you, again.” Moira clasped me to her, my face in her hands, her cheeks wet, fingers trembling. “Elspeth, baby girl, thank God you—all of you—are all right.”
Momma stepped back; eyes hard. “We can spend more time later on the reunion. I’ve been packing what’s most important that I think we can carry. Stock can be replaced and I opened all the gates and set them free. We’re ready to go. Just a few more things I need to bring up from the cellar for the trip.” Her eyes moved to her husband’s. He moved in and lay a rough hand along the side of her cheek. “We have everything we need as long as we remain together. I sent Fin and Fergus ahead to warn the Murphy’s, O’Neill’s, and the Byrne’s. They will warn the rest and meet up with us near Dugan’s Crossing. We’ll go together from there. After tonight, it won’t be safe for a Dragon anywhere near Salem.
Over the back of my shoulder I shouted as I moved towards the cabin at a run. “I have to grab a couple things; I’ll be right back.” The door exploded backwards under the brunt of my arm, slamming against the wall as I grabbed the bottom rung to the loft and climbed. There wasn’t much I considered irreplaceable, but my grandmother’s book of herbology was shoved hastily inside a small hand held satchel along with a ring my mother had given me and the doll she’d stitched when I was four. I was halfway down the stairs when I heard the shouts and screams from the front yard. And dogs. Coming further on from a distance.
“Elspeth?” I heard the desperate shout of my brother and I sprinted for the front door. We were out of time.
I crossed the door’s threshold to find my father and brother’s already well into their change, scaled hides rippling and leathered wings swinging wide. Da’s bright blue eyes caught mine and held as his dragon lifted into the air in a whirl of dust and wind. On his back, clinging like a monkey, was Moira, eyes frantic and wide as she gripped to her husband’s neck, legs tucked tight behind his shoulders.
“Hurry Elspeth, there’s no more time.” She shouted as the distance between them and the ground grew.
Muscles bunching beneath me, I sprinted for Aidan, still on the ground and waiting. He snorted, nostrils flaring in fear. In the distance, the townspeople of Salem were emerging from the woods in a mob at least fifty strong, muskets spitting gun smoke and compact round balls of lead. Several whistled over my head. I winced, a ribbon of fire burning a furrow along the side of my neck, as I leapt to his back, screaming at him to go before I was fully secure. He needed no second reminder. We were airborne before I was set, my clawed fingers making him grunt as they dug deep into the sides of his scaled neck. The trickle of wetness sliding down my neck told me I’d had a near miss.
A dragon was a mighty beast, and the effort it took to take flight was great. I knew the moment one of the lead balls found its mark beneath the scales of Aidan’s thick hide and he jerked sideways. But he never slowed and we gained the sky, his powerful wings sending us higher with every powerful stroke. I glanced over and met my mother’s eyes. Moira clung to her husband’s back; the glittering blue of her eyes frantic. She tried to smile reassuringly at me. We were nearly out of range when she gave a jerk and gasped, her eyes clouding as a shudder moved through her. But her soft smile on me never wavered. Duncan’s massive body stuttered and he dropped several feet through the sky before catching himself. Several wet patches decorated his hide and I knew he hadn’t escaped the musket’s aim. But he never faltered as we made for the river crossing where my brother’s waited.
We continued to rise higher until we could use the cover of night and the fringe of clouds to conceal our presence. Below us, flashes of light and heavy smoke made us cringe. The mountain was alive with death as other dragon families fought to escape with their lives. Dugan’s crossing was well beyond the worst of it though, and by the time we neared where we were supposed to meet, Aidan and Duncan were able to break the clouds cover and glide in for a safe landing.
Moira slid from Da’s back and took a seat beneath the canopy of a nearby cottonwood tree. She wasn’t used to flying and holding on for dear life had taxed her stamina to its limits. I dismounted as well, as Aidan and my father changed. Holding their dragon for any length of time was exhausting.
Duncan looked around the clearing. Maybe a dozen men, women, and children gathered there, most looking anxious, eyes peeled to the skies for any late joiners. He moved gingerly, sore from the nicks and superficial wounds that, though not lethal, had sapped his strength. Aidan had suffered much the same.
“Where are the others? Did no one else make it out?” He growled.
Douglas O’Neill spoke up. “We think the Kelly’s made it. The O’Sullivan’s lost a couple, but I think the rest of them are coming. I don’t think any of the Byrne’s made it. Not sure what that brings the number up to. We’re still waiting.
Duncan glanced at his wife, leaning back against the tree and fast asleep, and frowned. “We can give it a couple of hours. There’s no way they can make it this far overnight so we can afford the wait. But I’d like to put a few more hours behind us before dawn hits. We need to be tucked in and out of sight somewhere else.
I sat with my brothers next to Mama, cuddled next to her and sharing body heat. I’d had the forethought to tuck a single blanket in my satchel and I used that now to cover us both. Mama shivered and gave a moan in her sleep. I found my father’s glittery eyes in the dark and I knew the direction of his thoughts.
#
DUNCAN STOOD OVER HIS family, eyes on the inky blackness of the darkened wood. Through the next couple of hours he never sat, his attention unwavering as he waited, his eyes frantic with worry. Not a one of us knew where we were going or what lay ahead. By early morning, the numbers had grown to twenty-three survivors that had made the trip and found sanctuary in our small group. Fifteen men, women, and children had given their lives to the fanatical lunacy perpetuated by the misconstrued beliefs of the cult like Puritans. Fergus and Finn had arrived in the late hours of the night, after the reports of gunfire had long faded. Their eyes were haunted and they refused to speak of what they’d seen.
Duncan’s eyes narrowed on his wife as she slept. His children remained awake, their glittery eyes belying their heritage as they looked up at him, confident in his leadership to see them safe. They all depended on him to guide them when others faltered. But he was just a man, as scared and ill prepared as the rest of them.
He cleared his throat, pushing away from the tree where his family huddled, standing with legs spread wide and fists clenched at his sides. He looked at the night sky and judged they had maybe four hours before the first fingers of dawn made its presence known over the curve of the horizon. “We need to get going. We can’t afford to wait any longer.” The wails of those whose family members were unaccounted for rose in a crescendo of grief that tore at his resolve to do right by those that depended on him for leadership.
He hardened his heart because it was necessary; Ignoring the cries of pain and grief. Staring at the too pale curve of his sleeping wife’s cheek, he knew a knowledge that nearly brought him to his knees. But because they were all his responsibility, he would not fail them in their hour of need.
His arms spread wide, he called his dragon, welcoming the burn of the familiar pain that washed over him amid cracking bones, twisting sinew, and newly formed joints. The heat of his Dragon’s eyes moved over his sleeping wife, his Moira, and what lived inside him roared.
#
WE FLEW BY NIGHT AND hid by day, making use of the Valleys and Canyons. Heavy forests were a refuge too. It was early years in the United States of America and Europeans hadn’t settled the interior states yet. The Natives were there, and if they caught glances of our great winged beasts cutting through the light of the moon, they were simply fodder for later legends and tales told by the campfire to children eager for such fantastic stories.
We left one coast and headed for the other, winging over three thousand miles in a space of days. The last night we landed in what would later—much later—be named part of the Weminuche Wilderness Preserve, in a small valley tucked away at the base of Greylock Mountain in the as yet unnamed state of Colorado.
It shouldn’t have been our ultimate stop. We had planned to continue on that night to the sea where we would make our home. But sometimes fate has a way of changing the course of things.
I wonder if Da knew even before we landed that we’d reached the end. By the time we landed, dawn was breaking the far horizon in a blazing blend of oranges and golds.
Purple highlights reflected the depths of Moira’s eyes as Duncan changed and caught his wife as she listed sideways. She thought to apologize for the delay. I’d never seen Da so angry before. He cradled her on the North end of that valley, at the base of a lone cottonwood tree that had not yet reached full maturity.
“Why Moira? Maybe something could have been done.” Until we landed, her kind words and gentle hands had been for us, her children. But now we stood in the background, helpless and unimportant. Her love was for her husband now. It might have been just the two of them for all the mind they paid any of the rest of us. I committed the whispered words to memory.
“You needed the time—all of you did. I would have just slowed you down. I did what I had to, same as you.” One arm cradled her close, the other hand ran along her side, coming away sticky and wet. I wondered how we could have missed the unnatural pallor of Mama’s skin as she slowly bled to death on the inside. The bullet had hit low, grazing enough organs to start the process before burying itself low in her abdomen. She’d hidden it from us to buy us the time we needed to get away. I couldn’t imagine the strength it must have taken her to hold on this long.
“Moira, my heart,” he whispered, voice broken and weak. “How do I go on when the best half of me is gone?”
A wisp of a laugh. “You finish what we started, darling. You raise our children and make a home here. This is the right place for you to start anew. Rebuild, and in time, love our Grandchildren and don’t let them forget where they came from or what they are, inside.”
“I don’t want to do it, any of it, without you,” he protested, the words a bare whisper we strained to hear and wished we hadn’t. Our hearts were falling apart too. I clutched at my brothers, and they me, that day.
“Husband mine, I wish we had more time. But we don’t always get what we want and sometimes God has reasons he doesn’t share with us.” Her eyes were fading, catching those of her children as she looked around at her surroundings. She didn’t look to be in any pain and for that we were grateful, but we could feel the force of her life fading. One last time she turned back to her husband, clutching his hand with sudden strength, melding their hearts together as she squeezed. “Bury me here. This cottonwood tree is a fine resting place over which I can watch the valley and see our children’s children run and grow. Promise me.” Duncan couldn’t answer. Cheeks damp and eyes blazing with grief, he gave a terse nod, holding his cheek to hers. They clung like that for a brief matter of seconds and then she was gone.
I don’t recall what happened next; I was too busy taking comfort from my brothers who had no one to offer them any back.
We buried her there in that long valley we named for the dragons, us, that first inhabited it. For many years, the Native tribe that lived there before us shared it with us. And then the Europeans came and peace became a precious thing, all too fleeting.
But Basilisk Valley survived it all.
I married Llyr Murphy when I was in my fifties and we had just one daughter years later. Though I never forgot where I came from or the tragedies that had been visited upon us by hatred and prejudice and ignorance, I was more my mother’s child than even I realized. I took the tools of wisdom and Mama’s affinity for plants and herbology and expanded on them, adding to the small journal I had secreted away on that long ago night and making it my own.
Eventually, we realized that we were not the only Dragon clans that had made our home in the Americas. There came a need for the ancient Celtic knowledge we possessed, so much of it lost along the way. Emma and later her son Finnegan preserved the valley and made it into a haven for dragon’s and more, welcoming all who needed a place to call their own. There was talk before I died of developing it into a camp for dragons where they could learn of their heritage and the old ways and where they didn’t have to hide who and what they were. I wish I could have lived to see that.
But I was an old woman by then. Dragons by nature outlive their human counterparts. We aren’t immortal—far from it. But it’s not uncommon to see the oldest reach the 200 mark. I surpassed that, passing this journal to my daughter Emma, on my 202nd birthday in the winter before I died and joined my mother beneath the cottonwood tree.
Finn and Fergus never left the valley. Finn met a beautiful girl from a neighboring Wampanoag tribe and together they had nine children. I used to tease him that he competed with the entire valley to see just how many children he could produce. Maybe he was making up for Fergus, who never married nor had any. Instead, he spent his time spoiling all of ours. Aidan never fully recovered from Mama’s death. He shared my Da’s bitterness. Neither could fully let the past go, though I believe they tried. Da built the valley and saw it prosper in the next twenty years after Mama died. But he still died young by a Dragon’s standards, barely seventy eight when he passed in his sleep. Some wondered if he had contracted the cancer, a disease that held no mercy and for which Mama’s herbal medicines had no effect. But my brothers and me? We knew it was the pain of a broken heart that called him early. He missed his wife and I know the day we lay him to rest at her side was when he was finally at peace.
It also marked the day that Aidan left our Valley. I never saw my brother again and I think that was as he wished it. Too many memories he was unable to live with, so he ran from them instead.
I was an old woman when my Emma told me she thought she’d found him in some tiny town in the Tobacco Root Mountains. The last I knew, all the letters she’d sent had been returned unopened. But even if I wouldn’t be there to see it, I knew she wouldn’t give up. She had a dragon’s heart, and a woman’s courage. She would find a way to pass our legacy forward and preserve our heritage. I was counting on it.
#
I HOPE YOU ENJOYED Dragon’s Wish, where Sadie’s story began almost 300 years ago. Get the series now. Rule 9 Academy is available on Amazon at the links below.
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