The Flying Coat

They flew all through the night, guided by the stars. The flying coat moulded itself to Mia’s body; her arms flapped up and down like wings and she was powerless to stop them, even though her muscles ached with exhaustion. She saw very little during the journey, conscious only of Bella’s sharp words, the constant sound of beating wings and the sensation of cold air against her face and limbs as they journeyed ever onwards.

The dragons were lost in concentration too, trying to keep up a steady pace, not too fast or too slow, as they flew through the moonlight. As they tired, each took a turn to rest on the old woman’s shoulder and let her fly for them. Mia was glad that Trig was squeezed tightly into the feathered pocket of her coat as she sensed that the young dragon was as scared as she was. Two of the female dragons, Flett and Frezz, flapped nervously alongside Bella, needing her constant guidance, and plummeting alarmingly every now and then.

Mia had lost all sense of time or place. Eventually, they began to slow down and circle, like wild swans or geese descending to earth. They flew lower and lower, heading towards a looming black shadow hidden in the depths of a large, dark wood, the twisted, crooked trees like deformed sentries guarding … what? Mia wasn’t sure. Was it a castle? She couldn’t tell because the moon was hidden behind a cloud.

With an awful bump and thud she hit the ground, her wings becoming arms again, though not quick enough to prevent her from grazing her leg on the cold stone of a cobbled courtyard. Bella landed softly beside her, then guided the dragons down one at a time.

Mia clutched her bloodied knee and tried to get a look around at her surroundings, but it was too dark to see anything.

‘Get up, child!’ ordered Bella, pulling her to her feet. ‘It’s far too cold to be outside. We’ve had a long journey and must rest.’

Bella led the way towards an arched entrance, her feet moving quickly and lightly, sure of the way even in the dark. Tired and dazed, the dragons followed her across the courtyard. She herded them all into in a huge stone pen. Turning back, Bella crossed the courtyard again and opened a door which led to a drab entrance hall. She climbed a curving stairway, with Mia stumbling along behind her. As they walked through corridor after corridor, dusty candles burst into flame as Bella touched them.

‘Here you are, Mia! This is where you shall sleep.’ Bella stopped suddenly and opened the door to a small, neat room, suddenly illuminated by flickering candles. A narrow bed, covered by layers of thick, woven blankets and soft, inviting feather pillows, stood against one wall. There was a high, arched window directly across from it and in one corner a small log fire began to glow.

‘You must be tired, child.’

Tired was the very least of it. Mia had never felt like this before in all her eleven years. Her arms and legs and back seemed like wobbly jelly and she longed for sleep.

‘Good night, Mia!’ said Bella softly, closing the door of the room behind her as she left.

Alarmed at being left alone, Mia ran after her, only to hear the key turn in the lock. She tried to open the window but it was shut firmly and criss-crossed with heavy iron bars. She was a prisoner.

Sighing, she went over and sat on the bed. It was soft and springy. Taking off the feathered coat, she lay down and pulled the blankets up around her, taking in her new surroundings. This place was awful. It smelled damp and musty, as if nobody had slept there for a long, long time. Why, oh why had she ever befriended that strange old woman and believed in her? Tears welled in Mia’s eyes as she remembered her blue-and-white gingham bedroom at home, filled with her toys and books and clothes, her family asleep in their rooms beside her.

Through her tears, she was suddenly aware of movement from the discarded flying coat thrown across a chair in the corner. Trig peeped out, his bright green eyes blinking.