A Tasty Pursuit

Stop, William—

William didn’t. He ran down the stairs, around and around, holding onto the wall because if he fell or stopped, the dragon would have him—

Why are you running, sweet William? Are we not friends?

They weren’t friends. They’d never been friends.

William couldn’t spare the breath to argue. The dragon was inside the tower. A great slithering came from above, along with the sound of grinding rock and creaking wood and click of claw as it squeezed its bulk down the stairwell in pursuit.

Being the bravest of the brave, William didn’t cry as he ran, though tears prickled his eyes and his breaths were like sobs. He had a plan. He would lure the dragon into the deepest dungeons. Lock it away where it couldn’t hurt anyone else.

Too late for Simon and the pony. Who hadn’t been squashed to jelly, which was good, but had been pressed flat as toast by the cheese bun, which was horrible. Doctors had carried both away and would try to mend them. He didn’t think they could.

Claws clicked. Rock groaned and rained dust to fill the air. It’s time to rest. Come home with me, dearest William.

He tried to run faster and tripped, catching himself against the wall. When William took the next step, the stair wasn’t rock anymore but soft and sticky like pudding. He pulled his foot out of his boot and kept running until there were no steps, rock or pudding, left.

He was at the bottom.

There were no lights in the corridor leading away, into the base of the tower. There should be and he would order lights, William told himself firmly, if he survived. “This way, Dragon,” he shouted, plunging into the dark.

Where a word waited. A whisper. “Sweetling.”

The whisper didn’t belong.

It wasn’t the voice of the dragon, clicking and slithering behind him. It wasn’t that of Simon or anyone in the kingdom, because William was the prince and knew all the voices in his care.

“Sweetling, I’m here,” came the voice again, came the whisper. The dark pressed against him, soft and strangely warm, like a soothing blanket. “Don’t be afraid—”

Who is this? crooned the dragon. I want THIS one! Bring them to me, my William, and I will leave you here.

William knew better. The dragon couldn’t be trusted. “You LIE!” he shouted, finding a wall and putting his back to it. “You’re a big fat LIAR!”

BRING ME THIS ONE! The wall shook with the force of the dragon’s command and William slipped to the floor, covering his face with his arms, because no matter how brave you are, there’s a time when it’s not enough.

“I’m here, Sweetling,” came the whisper. “Find me. You’ll be safe.”

But the whisperer wouldn’t be. The whisperer was too important and the dragon would find her first and steal her away and it couldn’t happen, mustn’t happen, how could he—

“WEED!”

Which wasn’t his name and wasn’t a whisper and wasn’t her voice but another’s he knew but couldn’t know.

Before the dragon could find it and steal it away . . . William closed his eyes.