Tribulations of a Dragon

Our coven was preparing for a pilgrimage west as ordained by our Goddess, Mairleark. We had been called to cleanse a dark presence from the lands surrounding Plainshold after it had been so horribly burned by a fearsome beast. A miracle gifted by the Gods that the townsfolk made it out before the beast struck, yet many lives were still lost in the calamity.

We must now turn our heads and look forward to preventing further killing as the Guild amasses its power to strike back. As envoys of Mairleark, we cannot wait for the Guild to act. Striking down the darkness before it truly takes root is our duty as we act on behalf of a power so much greater than us.

We had been camping on the outskirts of Arrenfret, awaiting the ever-present children, curious folk, and those in need to visit us. And once more, they came to take part in our bounty. Blessed by Mairleark, we held the power to encourage growth in plant life, asking for fruits and nuts to grow plentiful, regardless of season. With food so readily available, those with less often stood ready to offer their help to earn what we may give, though such acts were unnecessary, as we offer our boons freely.

Childlike wonder soon gripped the youngest of our visitors as their gazes locked onto the Chief's antlers, proud as they stood. They held no reservations when it came to asking to touch his antlers. But, to us, such antlers are a matter of pride, an ornament of strength, and were they to be treated as a plaything, the wielder could look forward to basking in ridicule from other males.

With his head held high, the chief stood firm in his denial of their request, but such denial was often followed by a venture into the thicket with the children in tow. It was never a secret that he would let them touch his antlers as their joy and fascination brightened his soul. And children are poor keepers of secrets; their giggling and laughter betrayed his shame, but among us, none would offend him as we all shared in pride in his kindness.

As is so often the case, temptation gnawed at our minds, demanding that we stay and take part in these lives and settle down, a temptation we mustn't give in to. We were the emissaries of Mairleark, blessed to purge the wickedness taking root in our world. With a soft bellow, the chief signaled for us to gather and prepare for our journey. Our blessings kept our needs light, a mere backpack each with the tool for our rituals and a few keepsakes to remind us of our fight as we live apart from the people we safeguard.

With a parting gift for our hosts, we set out toward the west, map marked for the lands beyond Plainshold, a town once proud but now shrouded in darkness on the brightest days. Since the fall of Plainshold, we often spoke of how we might have changed those tragic events, but dwelling on such dark thoughts threatens to frighten the light. Instead, we kept moving, kept working our rituals to weaken the evil presence where we could.

Our farewells were offered, and in return, townsfolk offered gifts of remembrance as they shared stories of our interactions and the hopes for our return, but we could not promise that we would. So often our return comes as daughters become mothers and sons become fathers, leaving us as a faint memory in the minds of the kind people.

With our hooves treading dirt paths once more, we traveled far, needing little rest as the beauty of nature surrounded us, rejuvenating us. With Arrenfret in our wake, we traveled paths often used by merchants and adventurers seeking riches. With every encounter, we were met with joy as we offered food and healing to any who might need it.

Days and nights passed as we traveled farther west. Encounters grew less frequent as the ruined town came into view. Our fellow wanderers warned us of the town's history and offered suggestions for other routes, but for our rituals, we needed to have a sense of the magical presence at work, lest we leave our spells vulnerable to the volatility of our surroundings.

Approaching the ruined town proved the folly of our goal. It had become tainted by darkness and rampant magic, leaving it much too great a task for our coven. Knowing when to return to safety is of utmost importance and, though we could not fight this battle, we offered our prayers to Mairleark so that she may turn her ferocious gaze toward our foe.

Night came fast as the cloud cover kept the sun from lighting our path. Instead, we needed to rely on the natural wayfinders of the area and called upon the wolves to show us where they had found patches of darkness. They told us of a fearsome beast hunting them and any other animal it could reach. Consuming all flesh in its path, so often leaving naught but a bloodied stain.

The wolf packs made their experiences known to us, and fear tore through our hearts as we felt the fright of hunters becoming hunted by a monstrosity. Within their minds, we saw the beast's ferocity and bloodthirst, seeking to consume all animals in its wake. A beast made of nightmares tearing through boars, deer, and wolves without remorse.

The darkness had to wait; this monster needed to be dealt with before the balance of the forest fell apart.

Calling upon Mairleark's blessings to hasten our steps, we began running toward the cursed forest. Our strengthened bodies crossed the plains with sure steps, filling us with the thrill of the hunt.

With Plainshold in our wake and the open plains ahead of us, our run continued. Scents of animals put to work and wagons laden with food and spices permeated the air whenever we crossed a road. Peculiar for this region as the town of Eran's Peace fell to beasts driven mad by the cursed lake before we were here last. That we couldn't help them is one of many regrets we hold onto even now, many seasons later.

We vowed to do more since that fateful disaster and have since fought with all we could to prevent such an event from occurring once more. Yet it did happen with Plainshold's demise. So often we, cursed with an abundance of time, end up late.

"Do not dwell on the past. We fight for tomorrow, not yesterday."

Our chief's call pulled me from my stupor and brought thoughts of our quarry to my mind. We still did not know what shape our prey would take, but its presence could be felt throughout our path, growing stronger as we traveled southwest, aiming for the foot of the Great Spire Mountain.

A symphony of cloven hooves sprinting across the plains alerted nearby animals to our presence. Most kept clear, yet some sought us out to match our pace, reveling in sharing our urgency. Though, as we closed in on the mountain, they scattered, leaving us to scour the area for tracks that may lead us to our quarry.

It did not take us long to see signs of a kill. Blood soaked into the road, human from the smell of it, but too old. A quick kill, but not what we're looking for. Following the road, we head toward the wolven forest, hoping to find more trails.

"Chief, do we scatter or stay as a pack?"

"Split into fours. We do not want the beast to ambush us."

At his command, we split into our groups, a fighter and three ritualists in each to allow for healing, empowerment, and combat. This was something we had done so many times before, to great success. Although it became more difficult as we lost our binder, as she would aid us in finding each other and striking as a true pack.

We managed as well as we could without her, but her loss was greatly felt whenever we happened upon a particularly strong foe. Thoughts of her could be felt throughout our coven as we scattered to hunt.

With a pack heading north, west, and south, we would soon cover the forest. My pack headed south, aiming for the treeline and searching for feeding grounds. Tracking should be simple, but the stench of wickedness hung heavy in the forest, obscuring other scents and slowing us down. It would soon become difficult to track each other, but we had calls for when scents became unreliable.

Traveling south led us to find tracks of wolves and boars, but they felt odd. Too close together. And scent marks from a bear on the trees should have kept the wolves away, but the tracks and scents were all jumbled...

"What do you believe this to be?"

The wolves told us of a monster, but their accounts lacked specificity. I did not know what we were fighting, as some wolves thought of a scaled horror, while others thought of fur and many limbs. I did not have an answer, and I told our fighter as much, but we needed to keep our minds sharp within this miasma threatening to overwhelm us.

Despite our lack of clarity, our search continued as we moved southwest, toward the forest's edge. Keeping our senses sharp was of the utmost importance, but we would not be the ones to find the beast. A shriek and a call to battle from the north made it clear that we were not on the correct path. A chilling terror filled our hearts as the call made it clear that the chief's group had encountered what we tracked.

With ancient coordination, we ran to meet them, following the rustling woods familiar to our kin. Within moments, we had found our second group and gathered to continue north to find the chief's group. Following the path, we came across a bloodied trail with remnants of our kin left behind. A smattering of gore was present, but far too little for a wild beast to have killed four of our kin.

The taint of evil hung heavy in the air, withering the plants around the battle's location.

"I smell their blood, all of them..."

Our fighter spoke truly. They had all suffered great wounds, yet none were present to be healed. And their blood did not lead away from the site of battle. We did not need our sense of smell to feel their loss. We were far too connected by our gifts for the loss to go unnoticed, but hope clung to our souls like an unshakable burden clouding our minds.

Though hope was soon the least of our worries, as a deep, discordant growl could be heard from the west. Readying for battle, I called upon our blessing to forge a bow of living wood. The weapon grew from the ground, ready for my hand, and as I took hold of it, an arrow of thorns and leaves grew to match it. The five other ritualists matched my spells and armed themselves with spears and bows.

To match our bows, the two fighters grew clubs from the soil. Blueblood thorns entangled a core of trollwood. Though it did not share the healing trait of its namesake, the wooden core would have tremendous strength.

With our weapons at the ready, we began tracking the beast through the forest, following the trail of broken branches unlike any path left by the forest's inhabitants. Though we were ready for battle, the fear that we were prey hung heavy in the air. This beast appeared to have killed and consumed our most powerful fighter and his entourage in mere moments.

The eerie silence of the forest should have meant the noise from the beast was easy to hear, but that was not the case. Only the wind and rustling trees could be heard; even the birds were silent as we traveled along the path of destruction.

We kept our pace steady as we tracked the beast, getting closer by the breath as the trees mourned their broken branches. The beast's silence mattered not as the fresh sap betrayed its presence. With a hand sign, our pack leader told us to get ready for battle. Bows were nocked and thorned clubs drawn, ready as we closed in on the beast.

Turning a corner, we found it. Feasting upon deer and wolf, swallowing up their struggling bodies without the kindness of a kill. Arrows flew quick, striking eyes to break the brain behind. The two animals in its maw were slain and spat out as it turned to us. Blackened body of rippling flesh flexing as it gave chase.

Turning to retreat, we danced through the wooded lands, evading brambles and bushes as we fired arrows grown fast at the beast. We did little to hurt it, but the venom in our arrows would soon soften our prey.

The fighters ran ahead of us as we shot the beast, the steps of the two heavy men guiding us through the underbrush. With a knock on a tree trunk, they alerted us to a change in our plans. Quick in their steps, they hid behind two large trees standing close together as we passed through. As the beast followed, their clubs swung heavy and impacted the beast's skull. Bones crunched as the mighty wooden weapons cracked, leaving deadly thorns within the beast's head, pumping more poison into it. Blood oozed from the wounds, thickened by our toxins as the beast slowed.

Sure of foot, the two fighters ran once more, but the other pack's fighter was caught by the leg as the beast lashed out with a deadly tendril. Broken bones and a scream of agony were all we heard before he yelled for us to regroup as he was drawn into that terrible maw.

His packmates stifled their sorrow as they continued on. We ran as the wind carried us south, but the beast did not relent. Now that we had harmed it, we were threats to be dealt with. It kept the chase going as we dodged trees and branches. We stood a chance still as our envenomed weapons worked their wicked ways through the beast's blood. Soon the scent of rot permeated the air around it. But it kept getting closer. It was faster as it knocked aside trees and crushed brambles underfoot.

"Keep pace! I will slow it!"

One of the lost fighter's packmates shouted at us as I felt the terrible force of unleashed marks. She turned her body into a weapon for the beast to choke on. As she stopped, it bore down upon her and she screamed. A wave of magic threatened to knock us off our feet as much as the wave of grief did. She had fallen, leaving only seven of us left. We continued our run south, toward the treeline, as it continued chasing. She had slowed it enough for it to no longer be faster than us, but it was relentless in its pursuit.

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Grown arrows continued to fly, but the beast's wisdom showed as it had begun blocking them with a broken limb. Hiding behind a tree as she grew a spear of blueblood branch, another from the other pack waited for it to catch up before she impaled it. In response to her bravery, a thick limb swung, and she was not offered the grace of a final scream as her broken body fell to the ground.

We would lose this battle, but our goal had long since changed from victory to weakening. The venom of blueblood would stifle any further growth of the beast, leaving it weakened forevermore. But it was not enough. More than stifling its growth, we needed to make sure it could not heal, so it would remain weakened. Our hopes fell onto the young adventurers who might assemble a pack of their own to defeat it. Thoughts of young ones standing out in the region flooded my mind, most of all the rambunctious and unruly child mage. His affinity for the blessed magics would prove difficult for this weakened beast to withstand. If he was still alive. Humans have such short lives and they are so willing to throw them away. Though the seed of understanding is budding within my mind…

A seed shared with the final packmates as they glanced at each other with understanding. Steeling my heart, I felt that our sorrow would soon grow again. The two of them split off from the coven, and I felt their markings become empowered. Vines and brambles shot through the air, grasping and ripping at the beast, tearing flesh from bone as the ritualists worked forbidden magic.

Their flesh rotted as they cast their spell of nightmares. Flesh and bone tore from the beast as the last of us continued our ranged assault. Using the distance we were given, we fired at will, launching volley after volley of toxic arrows of brambles and branches. Soon the beast looked akin to the snail-eaters of the undergrowth, but as the forbidden magic faltered and the two ritualists fell, the monster shook itself free before pursuing us again.

A shadow hid us from the sun as we ran, exhaustion nipping at our souls, but we could not stop our assault. A dragon flew above as the writhing mass of corpses drew closer. The corrupted monster threatened to consume all in its wake, but our hope was that our toxins would prevent that, as any new kills could not bind with the mass.

A terribly foolish thought came to my mind, as I pondered the effects of our toxins. The monster could not spread the corruption, so the world was not under threat of it affecting the dragon above… Growing a blunted arrow of common sokofoan wood, I nocked it as I told my packmates of my plan.

"I'm gonna shoot the dragon! If it fights the monster, we have a chance to defeat it!"

Our fighter nearly fell at my proclamation, but steadied himself as he turned to glare at me.

"What?! What if it does not?! We do not have the might to defeat a dragon! More so while losing our battle with the corruption! Do not let your mind be fogged by our losses!"

He spoke truthfully, yet I could not help but believe it to be our only chance at defeating this monstrosity. The writhing mass of death closed in with a cacophony of footfalls, a horrid mess of those consumed and added to its body. Watching the mangled bodies of those I held dear within that grotesquerie filled my heart with rage and disgust. Nocking my arrow, I took aim and fired, targeting a spot the dragon would surely notice, even if I did not harm it.

My arrow struck, impacting the dragon's throat. With a beat of its wings, its flight came to a stop as it hovered. With a searching gaze, it glared across the landscape with a menacing laugh. My failure lay in my lack of consideration as our blessing kept us from being seen by those who might harm us. Still not content with the lack of prey, the dragon's head turned this way and that, until it appeared to conclude that its prey had eluded it as the beast flew away once more. The trees, so often providing us safety, were offering the monster the same, keeping all of us out of sight.

Drawing another arrow from the soil, I nocked it and fired once more. I heard the impact and with this arrow, the dragon faced us with no hesitation as it turned. A fiery, red gaze from blazing eyes focused on the monstrosity and with a mighty beat of its wings, the distance between us was covered like a flash of lightning. Talons sharp as obsidian tore into the monstrous being as the dragon attacked, showing no hesitation.

The impact of the dragon could be heard far and wide; wings breaking trees as teeth and talons bore down upon the monstrosity. Though it matched the dragon in size, the monstrosity could not match the ferocity of a hungering dragon. The monster was not helpless as it struck at the dragon's sides, tearing deep into flesh and revealing the bones beneath. It attempted to force its grotesque limbs of mangled beast flesh into the dragon's core, yet the fires within scorched the monster, preventing its assault.

Burning blood sizzled from the dragon's wounds, as deadly jaws bore down upon the monster, its relentless teeth tearing flesh and bone, feeding the ever-hungry furnace that is a dragon's belly. Every swallow of corrupted flesh was followed by a bellow of relentless flame threatening to consume us all. The magic of the world around us grew weak as it was drawn in like a moth, empowering the flames that would be the downfall of all who dared oppose such a mighty creature.

With its writhing body, the mass of corpses managed to untangle itself from the dragon, creating distance between the two. An opportunity the dragon did not let go of as more dragonflame sought to incinerate the corruption. The distance was not created by accident, though, and with it, the monster launched attacks of gore and bone, striking at the dragon. Retaliating with its tail, the dragon managed to cut several limbs from the evil mass, but not before it managed to strike at the dragon's wing, breaking the bone with its tremendous might.

I loathe to admire the actions of the corruption, but grounding a dragon has always been wise in such a battle, as they so often retreat when flight becomes impossible. Our dragon showed no such compulsion as it flew into its second fury. I believe that if the corruption could show fear, I would have smelled it during that attack. Within moments, the monster had been reduced in size by half under the constant assault of fang and claw. With every wound, the dragon's fury grew, and I could not help but feel that it delighted in this deadly battle.

With the last four of my kin gathered, we began working our rituals. As we chanted, our fighter's markings glowed with power, strengthening him to dangerous levels as his own mad fury brewed. Conjuring a club of Blueblood vine, he launched into battle. As the dragon fought, so did we. The marked fighter soon found himself enraptured by a frenzy fueled by our magic as his thorned weapon left blistering wounds oozing the monster's corrupted blood.

But the corruption holds the wisdom of those who have fallen to it. And with that wisdom, it ceased its attacks on the dragon and turned to us. A call for retreat was heard, but we did not act fast enough as it writhed loose from the dragon's grasp. With a swipe of talon, claw, and paw, it tore through two of us, leaving only me and our fighter standing.

The dragon felt our grief and doubled its efforts to destroy this monster. Familiar bright flames of white scorched the land, leaving charred scars of crystalline stone behind as the dragon charged once more. The monster tried to strike me, but the dragon refused to allow such an action. With my remaining magic, I called upon our blessing and strengthened my legs. Rushing forward, I leapt onto the dragon's back and funneled all I had into healing. Wounds left behind by the battle so far closed, so as not to threaten the life of our unlikely ally, though I felt doubt that it had even noticed the gashes across its sides, or its broken wing, so absolute was this dragon's fury.

As his final action, our fighter shattered his markings, granting me his life to empower the beast beneath me. I stood alone with my grief, but I could not let his death distract me as I brought my soul's power into my spell. With all I had, I healed and strengthened the dragon as my magic flowed without restraint. I had forfeited my own afterlife for those saved by the defeat of this monstrosity.

Without power, my body tumbled, falling down the side of the dragon to hit the ground. I lay there in a mess of bloodied mud, unable to move. The sounds of crunching bones and clamping jaws, but not much else, made it clear who had won this battle.

Relief and grief washed over me as I heard the dragon approach. With its head shielding my eyes from the sun, it gazed into my eyes as it spoke.

"You shot me. Twice."

"You are right; I did. I apologize for the offense, but I cannot say that I would change my fate if I had the opportunity. But I do thank you for slaying the corruption. I am yours to do with as you will. I do not have much else to offer, I fear."

"I don't like that. I'm still taking you with me, but you can do what you want to."

Gray eyes stared at me... I could have sworn they were...

"Weren't your eyes red? Why are they gray now?"

"No reason. More importantly, is that thing dead enough?"

To answer the dragon's question, I tried to get up, but having burned through my magic and my soul's energy, I could not feel my body. My limbs lay uselessly by my side as the soft grass and mud soaked into my skin.

The dragon did not seem to be satisfied with my inability to move as it wrapped me in its tongue and lifted me up to watch the scorched remains of the corruption. The beast was once a proud bear, but it had become no more than a plaything for the corruption. Relief hit me as I felt no presence from the corpse, which meant that it was vanquished. But so were my kin...

Satisfied with my answer, the dragon began lumbering north, wounds of battle still tearing at it as it carried me along. I had no notion of what its plans might be, but I did not care as the crushing weight of sorrow fell upon my heart. I was alone... My coven had fallen to defeat this pitiful monster...

Looking back at the dragon, its wing folded over its back, impaled by spines and bleeding, I could not help but wish that I could do more, but I had scarred my soul in the battle, and magic would soon be outside my reach. It was not regret I felt at that thought, but more grief. There would be so many we could not help. Our purpose had come to an end, and I did not know what to do. I could not survive on my own…

Lost in thought and self-pity, I did not notice us approaching a settlement before the sound of crumbling rubble drew my attention. Startled, I looked around and found a broken gateway with numerous goblins and... humans, lizards... So many different peoples.

"Where are we?"

"Twuiwan."

"She means Tuiran! It's our home! Are you okay, Kira? You don't look so good."

A simple nod was all the response the goblin needed to smile before disappearing into the crowd along an alley as the dragon, Kira, strolled through the street. I had no knowledge of any settlement called Tuiran in these lands and, with my age, I should know them all. With my gaze cast to the skies, I saw the night stars and knew where we were. Eran's Peace. Around us, folks from all circles mingled, showing no regard for status or blessing. Eran would have loved to witness these people living with such joy.

As I admired the unity, I soon found myself united with the ground as Kira dropped me from a little too high up. The thud of my body hitting the ground caused an apology before she called out for Merciferus. I did not know dragons prayed to the gods, but I felt grateful that she would wish me healt-

"By the gods, Kira! Who did you kidnap now?!"

A shrill voice shouted, and as I turned around, I saw her... Merciferus herself was staring down at me. Beside her, the unmistakable presence of a champion yelling at a dragon. With an outreached hand, Merciferus helped me up, her touch refreshing my body, but she cannot heal my soul...

"Mairleark is proud of you, Arienna. You have gone far beyond what was asked of you, and you deserve the peace you have earned."

My mind struggled for thought as my body struggled for breath. The presence of a Goddess offering her soft-spoken words to reassure me proved that I truly had done all I could...

"I thank you, but I ask that you grant me your peace, not hers. And I must apologize for my greed, but I also ask that I may be reunited with my coven upon my death. I would understand if my request were to be denied, as the choice to drain my soul was my own…"

One hand holding me up, her other hand went to stroke my cheek as she brushed away a tear while she smiled at me with compassion.

"So be it."

The Goddess of Health pulled me into a warm embrace as I felt her terrifying power. Darkness enveloped me, and I felt her peace, hopeful that I would be united with my coven in our next life, despite my final sin.

-----------

A simple knock on my door alerted me to my next appointment. Under normal circumstances, I'd be going to greet my patients, but Arienna has asked to knock when she's ready. I couldn't deny the little sweetheart such a simple request, and it does help her assert herself in her treatment. Sometimes a little control goes a long way.

She's one of thirteen children experiencing an unusual phenomenon of a shared nightmare. Their descriptions of the landscape within the dream all match up, even the minute details of flowers and trees, the seasons, and what the nightmare monster looks like.

We've tried to get to the source of their disorder for a couple of years, but haven't made much headway. The nightmares persist for the entire group, and there's no history to make sense of it. All outside circumstances suggest that the group should be happy, but they have been having persistent nightmares for the last three years.

"Come in, Ari."

"Look what I drew!"

She shows me a dragon with deep black scales, twin horns swept back, and an open mouth full of large teeth dripping blood. The creature appears to be surrounded by a pool of body parts and blood. A bit gruesome for a child, but Arienna's prideful smile indicates that she doesn't have a problem with the imagery. I'm definitely making a note of that, but her mood doesn't seem affected by it at all. In fact, it seems to be the opposite.

"Oh my. That's quite a dragon. What's its name?"

"Bygoskir! And she's a dream dragon who eats nightmares! She ate the monster and brought me back to a safe place so I can dream good dreams again!"

Arienna continues talking about a battle between the monster and her dragon, in gruesome detail, but instead of being scared, she's practically jovial. Just a week ago, she was paralyzed with fear at the mention of the monster coming to eat her friends. A sudden shift like that tends to be alarming, so I'll have to ask her parents to keep an extra eye on her while encouraging her to draw more. It's not uncommon for significant changes like that to become the precursors for something terrible, but I'll stay hopeful and be there if she needs to talk. I can't keep an eye on the dragon, though. Whenever I try to look at her, my chest hurts and I can't help but look away, and I don't know why.

"How come you're crying? Did the dragon scare you? I'm sorry. She's nice, I promise."

"No, no... I'm just... She reminded me of someone from years ago. Someone I miss dearly. They're good tears. Sometimes a little sadness is good, so you remind yourself that you haven't forgotten someone important."

"Oh, okay. Do you wanna borrow my drawing to keep you safe?"

"That's okay, but perhaps your friends would like some drawings, too."

The suggestion brings a new light to Arienna's face while I compose myself. Wasting no time, she runs to my desk and snatches up my crayons and some paper. With the lack of hesitation common in happy children, she plops down on the floor and begins drawing more dragons. Each one looking remarkably similar to the last, showing her innate artistic talent.

I'm not sure what to make of this situation. As far as I can tell, she seems to have overcome her fears and regained her energy, but it doesn't make sense that a single... I hesitate to use the word 'good' to describe the dream, but a single good dream having such a profound result is miraculous. And the results speak for themselves.

Holding her first drawing and just looking at it makes me tear up again, filling me with both comfort and relief. As if everything will be okay.

Arienna's second drawing has a lot less gore, but still inspires the same emotions in me. While I'm staring at it, another knock on my door can be heard, and before I have a chance to act, Arienna's parents open it.

"What do you think? Is she cured? She hasn't had a nightmare in days."

"I'm not sure. Things like these aren't really cured, they're managed. So my recommendation is to keep an eye on her, but I'm hopeful that she'll be okay. It's not unheard of for something scary to be replaced by something scarier, and this Bygoskira is definitely scary. Ari insists that she's friendly, though. Perhaps some toys or the like would help. Dragon toys. That way, she can have positive associations with her own friend."

I can tell that Arienna's parents are a little skeptical about the recommendation of more toys, but positive associations can change the world for a person. And Arienna definitely needs that, as her nightmares have been outright hellish.

With her second and third drawing done, her parents call to her to leave, since our session is coming to a close. Being a bold little one, Arienna grabs a few crayons and pieces of paper before leaving.

"Oh, you forgot this one, Ari."

A depiction of her dream dragon sitting on a rock, keeping an eye out for danger in her forest.

"That's for you!"

It isn't until the door slams that I realize that they have already left. It doesn't feel like I've been staring at the dragon for very long, but a dang hour as passed. I can't shake a sense of familiarity with her and I feel that things will be okay.