[Fallinel]

Although Rhysdan’s impulse was to run as fast as possible downhill towards his farm and family, he realized that reckless flight over uneven and rocky terrain might very well result in serious injury. And then, of course, he would be no help whatsoever to his wife and children. Man and dog threaded their way through the maze of large rocks and boulders, until they reached a sloping meadow littered with smaller stones. Rhysdan decided to stop briefly to look back towards the southernmost shoulder of the Lonely Mountain, and to scan the sky for the golden wyrm. He could see the monster circling in the air above the junction between the two southern ridges, where the Dwarves were rumored to have their great Front Gate. Rhysdan could just make out a few tiny figures moving agitatedly in that region, and he supposed that they must indeed be Dwarves.

Rhysdan resumed his rapid, yet careful, descent through the meadow, and was once again overtaken by the shadow of the flying dragon. Suddenly, something fell from the sky, and landed perilously close to the shepherd and his dog, with a dull thud. Rhysdan paused briefly to glance over at the fallen object, and what he saw made his stomach churn and his heart sink. It was the head of an adult sheep, attached to the tattered remains of a black-and-white pelt, and it had slipped from one of the monster’s huge claws. He thought of his daughter Daisy, how much she loved the sheep and cattle, how she would ask about the lost ewe and lamb, and what…what could he tell such a sensitive little girl to answer her questions? Rhysdan shook his head at his silliness for worrying about such things in a time of crisis, with imminent threat to human lives.

Rhysdan paused again to look down towards Dale, and realized that the dragon had flown towards the town. The golden monster circled a few times, gliding ever lower, until it appeared to land near some of the farms closest to town. Rhysdan resisted the instinct to panic, though he was consumed with worry and fear for his family. He began to run again, faster this time and over better terrain, with the red-speckled sheepdog close to his side. Hawkweed’s ears were pricked forward, and he was whining softly as they rushed downhill; undoubtedly the dog could hear the whinnies, bleats, and screams of panicked livestock and humans.

Suddenly, Hawkweed began to bark eagerly, and raced away from Rhysdan’s side, towards two lithe figures that were running uphill, away from the besieged farms. The loyal sheepdog would only leave his master for another family member, and Rhysdan felt a surge of hope as he realized that the figures must be Elian and his cousin Elanor. At least the two teenagers had had the good sense and presence of mind to run away from the dragon and his rampage.