Part of an art trade I did with a friend of mine.


James trudged along the path, stepping over falls logs and ducking under overgrown branches. This particular trail had been long disused; a lack of both maintenance and signs of other hikers was readily apparent. Fallen logs crossed the trail; there was even a rotting tree so tall James had to circumnavigate it. Moss peppered the ground where the forest’s ancient trees cast shadows. In the areas bathed in sunlight, patches of grass and the occasional flower sprang up. They were islands of life, surrounded by an ocean of dead leaves and dank moss.
James continued his hike, watching songbirds flit over his head. They danced amongst the tree branches, their songs the only sounds of life for miles. One flew low, as if it were inspecting James, before climbing back up to join the other birds. A squirrel poked its head out of a hole in a tree, observing James carefully. After all, James was a wolf.
“Beats the hell out of drawing cartoons,” James thought aloud. He was a cartoonist for a local newspaper, and while he hated the job, he needed the pay in order to finish night school. He stepped into a mud puddle, paw sinking down several inches. The grey fur clumped together, seemingly attracted to the viscous material. It even made a sucking sound as he pulled his paw from the puddle.
Farther up the trail was a waterfall. It had once been the most popular part of the state park, featuring everything from nature protests to celebrity weddings. However, it was empty now. The wood benches that had been installed there twenty years ago had rotted away; leaving their cement supports the only evidence of their existence. The waterfall rolled off a cliff, sending water almost two hundred feet to the watering hole below. Fish teemed in this watering hole, sometimes even leaping from the water in attempts to catch insects.
“Wow, this is incredible!” James exclaimed. He sat down on a bed of dead pine needles, pulling out a sketchpad and pencil to capture the scene in art. His paw held the pencil expertly, making precise strokes to outline the cliff and the watering hole. He glanced up, noticing for the first time the cave halfway up the cliff. Its mouth was massive; large enough to drive a truck through, and so deep darkness enveloped the back. James quickly scratched graphite onto the paper, marking the location of the cave so he could make it more detailed later.
James was drawing for maybe fifteen minutes when a piercing roar emanated from the cave. It surprised him so much that he dropped his pencil to the ground, but he was too scared to notice. The park ranger had warned him that a dragon lived in this part of the park, but James hadn’t listened to him. Now he was wishing he had.
The dragon leapt from the cave, spreading its wings in an enormous flare to arrest its plummet. It landed on the ground in front of him, claws digging into the earth. Its scales were deep black, but were surprisingly dull. In fact, the dragon looked nothing like the noble creatures James had heard about. Most significant was the dragon’s ribs, which were visible along its torso.
“You’re starving,” James said aloud, then instantly caught himself. “I apologize, mighty dragon, for trespassing on your lands.”
The dragon grumbled, “I have no use for your formalities. Leave now, or I’ll eat you.”
James couldn’t run away fast enough. In his haste, he barely was able to grab his sketchpad on his way.
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James walked into the butcher shop, nose assaulted by the odors of the raw meats around him. Behind the counter was a cougar, sharpening his knives and chopping meat, a scowl on his face.
“What do you want!?” the cougar snapped, showing no knowledge of common courtesy.
“I need thirty pounds of your best beef,” James said, pulling out his wallet from a pouch on his belt.
“Thirty pounds? What for?” the cougar said gruffly.
James rolled his eyes. The cougar seemed to be going out of his way to be a pain in the ass.
“For making a beef sculpture of myself actually,” James began, “What the hell do you think I’m going to do with it? It’s for eating!”
The cougar chopped the meat quickly, grumbling to himself the whole time. Finished pieces piled towards the end of the table, and James grabbed them one at a time, carefully placing them in an iced cooler. Finally, the last of the one pound slabs was safely encased in the cool container.
“That’ll be ninety-five dollars,” the cougar demanded. James shelled out the money and left without another word.
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The dragon was relaxing, his head sticking out of the cave and looking out on the forest. His eyes were searching for even the smallest sign of deer in the area, which he once herded. But the recent hunting law had reduced the local population so much that he hadn’t eaten a real meal in several weeks. On occasion, he’d roast a few squirrels or fish and nibble on them, but they were never filling. His stomach ached, and the rumbles were growing loud and regular.
A snapping twig brought him out of his hungry stupor. He narrowed down on the sound, eyes narrowing at the grey patch of fur that was hiking in his direction.
“Well well, seems that wolf has no sense. Maybe he’ll abate my stomach,” he said, before leaping from his den and taking to the air. His climb was laborious, the scales on his belly scraping the top of a tree. He flew over the tops of the trees, seeing a small clearing along the trail the wolf was walking on. He flew over it silently and dropped like a stone, branches whipping at his body.
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James walked slowly, carefully looking for any signs of the dragon. A rustling of branches was his only warning before the dragon burst through the trees, slamming into the trail in front of him. Leaves skittered to the ground around him, and he growled low yet again.
“I warned you, wolf,” the dragon began, “now you’re my dinner.”
James paled. “Wait, wait wait wait wait! Wait. I brought you something,” James stammered, slowly pulling the cooler off of his pack. He opened it, letting the scent of the cooled meat waft out. The dragon began sniffing, and its stomach grumbled loudly.
“You brought me meat?” the dragon asked, still tense.
“Yeah, yeah I did. I figured no one should starve to death, so I took some spare money and got some meat for you. I’m sorry it isn’t more…” James began. He yelped as the dragon flicked the cooler up in the air with its tail, sending the meat flying. A quick blast of fire breath flash-cooked the meat, and then it snapped the meat up in its jaws, chewing loudly.
The dragon’s eyes rolled back slightly, and a thrum emanated from its throat. A quick licking of the tongue and the meat was gone. The cooler finally hit the ground, empty save some melting ice cubes.
“Thank you,” the dragon said quietly, “but I can’t accept it as a gift. I have to give you something in return.”
“Well, what? I mean, I don’t think you have any gold, since you would’ve been able to go get meat yourself if you could,” James thought aloud. The dragon growled again. “Sorry, sorry. What did you have in mind?”
“Ever been flying?”
“Hehe…no, I haven’t. I’m scared of it,” James admitted. “Why?”
“Well, I can give you a quick little flight. I insist,” the dragon said, a smile creeping onto its face.
“Well, since I don’t see a way I can refuse, sure,” James said. “You know, it might be helpful to know your name.”
“Eh, you can just call me Lenny. My name is actually Zarlen, but I hate it. Just call me Lenny, okay?”
“Yeah, sure thing Lenny.”
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Lenny flew high, keeping level and being as gentle as possible, on account of the wolf hanging from his chest. They’d improvised a harness of sorts out of the rock climbing gear James always carried with him. The rope stretched around Lenny’s neck, which then went through James’s rock climbing harness before looping back up around Lenny’s neck. This second loop was tied in such a way that they were able to create makeshift handholds for James to hold during the flight.
James held those handholds with white knuckles, struggling to keep from screaming in fear. There was nothing below his feet, and his free-hanging position did not instill him with confidence.
The view was spectacular from their vantage point. Trees spread for miles, hills rolled gently along, even the town was visible. Dots that up close were cars racing along narrow strands of roads. The sun had begun setting, plastering amber light across the sky above them.
Lenny turned towards the sun and glided gently, doing his best to keep his new friend from freaking out.