(Set in alternate 1970s)

It was a calm, quiet summer evening. The sky was overcast, and the ground sparkled with fresh rain.

My father, steering his old blue truck over winding country roads, honked again as we came to a stop. This time, he leaned on the horn. But unlike the last one we'd run into; this dragon did not move.

We'll just have to take another way, I'd thought, but my dad had other plans. He stomped repeatedly on the gas pedal, jerking the truck forwards. Mom asked him what the hell he was doing, but he didn't answer. He just kept scooting that truck forwards until we were just about running over the thing's claws.

Which was a terrible idea, I thought distractedly, considering the claws in question were just about as long as I was tall.

My father swore and shouted back at me to make myself useful. So, I hopped out of the car and started walking towards its head. I tried real hard to remember what my language teacher taught me in grade school. I tried even harder to think of something good to say. I realized with dismay that I had neither.

No time. "Hullo," I waved awkwardly, speaking in its language.

The dragon cracked open an eye. Sunlight glinted against its speckled black feathers as they rose in warning.

"What name?" I asked.

It stared a moment longer, then finally spoke, so softly I almost missed the words.

"You want something from me, I suppose."

I paused, suddenly uncomfortably aware of how little I was compared to it. "Move?"

"Ah." The dragon said. "Of course. But first, I need you to answer me one thing."

I nodded, nervously scuffing my shoes on the rocky pavement. Oh man, I thought. It's gonna give me a riddle or something. Jimmy told me about their riddles once. I don't like riddles.

"Why is your kind so inclined towards greed?" It's massive eye locked with mine.

"Don’t understand." I said in a small voice

"Of course," It said, making a weak sound like laughter. "It must seem like an odd thing to ask. But . . ."

The dragon lifted its wing ever so slightly, revealing a trail of blood on the pavement. The blood led to the middle of the road, where a smaller tail was coiled, covered in soft down and bullet wounds. It lifted its wing further for just a moment, revealing the rest of the infant.

"Oh god, oh my god, oh my god." My eyes widened in horror, and I quickly switched back to its language. "What happen?"

"My son. They wanted his horns, so they took them."

I didn't respond. Its wing lowered once more, obscuring the body, but the image stuck fresh in my mind.

"I'm . . . sorry."

The dragon closed its eyes and sighed, smoke billowing from the corners of its mouth.

"But I suppose I should just move now, shouldn't I?" It said, a hint of bitterness in its words. It looked at my father behind the wheel. "I wouldn't want to get in a human's way."

"Wait--" I started. But the dragon, cradling its son's frail body in its claws, raised its wings and flew away. Holding onto my ballcap, I called out again. But all I could do was watch it disappear into the clouds.

I heard my father's truck pull up closer to me. "Finally." He laughed. "I thought we'd never make it to that game in time. Good work, son."

I watched little gray feathers drift to the ground all around me.

"Son?"