Perhaps they ought not to have eaten the dragon. There had been people objecting it at time. Surely such meat was poisonous. even an affront, insult some intangible order of nature honour. But city starving, siege gone on too long, and king's troops were still a week's march away. The scorched earth would be fertile again in time, but right now barren. Right there mouths feed. So changed their crossbows for butcher knives got work. None royal commanders asked any questions that could answered. After all, aid come shamefully late. dragon's horned skull made noble gift, fitting tribute from triumphant its humbled king. Who thought question them? And none townsfolk spoke up, when first golden-eyed babes born. Children who grew up barefoot fearless, clambering over city's patched rebuilt roofs like no notion falling, with strange glitter skin sunlight hit just so. No one breathed word about dragons. Because soon enough deft, young hands taking loaves straight out oven, heedlessly lifting iron forge, plunging into boiling laundry water. them more wondrous still, wild, warm-skinned youths, inexplicable knowledge peculiar remedies. A blessing, families said proudly. blessing after so much hardship. Which was, way. This never fear dragon fire again. lierdumoa