Prequel to the post awhile ago about dragon riding:
The dragons awoke as the sun spilled into the sunrise facing cave mouth. They had slept like usual, all curled into one big scaly ball. They stretched into the rising sun and began to crawl out of the cave.
Erithyima, the matriarch, said, “I hope Christalos comes home today. She has been gone long on her moving about. I wish she would come home and be a grown dragon.”
The others murmured agreement and began to prepare the morning meal, lighting a fire in the pit and opening the grain bins.
A tuneless droning sound began. The dragons looked at each other in bewilderment and confusion. It was a very odd sound for a sun shining, clear morning.
Two legged beings rushed into the clearing, spinning in rapid circles, hooded cloaks swirling around their lithe bodies. They flung dust in the dragons’ faces, and before they could draw breath for fire, they fell to the ground with heavy thumps, choking. There was silence.
The two legged ones pushed back their hoods. The leader spoke. “Good. Nessie, put out their little fire. No need for a wildfire.” She smiled. “Don’t want to ruin this prime farmland here. The rest of you, come with me. Let’s start surveying our new property.”
She strode off, the others scurrying in her wake. One stayed to douse the fire. She turned for the water bucket. One old dragon, unseen by her, forced open an eye and saw her and knew her for human. Then he fainted again.