Dragons live here. That's what people always told me. Looking upon the mountainous land from the edge of the cliff is where I find myself. The loud crash of the waterfalls and the animals drinking from its great rivers were a recipe for a wondrous sight. When the sun appears from the clouds to illuminate a rainbow in the splash of water, I pity those who had only seen such things in paintings. This beauty can never be captured on a canvas. It's no wonder dragons soar these skies.

The journey had taken months; weeks on land; days at sea. Now it was time to see if it was all worth it.

The people here aren't as warm to strangers as they are in my homeland. Upon asking many for directions or any information about these great summits, a great lot of them frowned at me. Some of them gazed at me with wild eyes and told me they were dangerous lands, that it's suicide to travel there. To which I couldn't help but smile in reply. And when they were out of my sight, I couldn't help but chuckle.

At the point in which I found myself with the greatest desire to quit, I settled into what these people call a tavern, and treated myself with what I then decided would be my final drink. There was one man - a drunken man with a large beard and a few missing teeth - who laughed when I told him of my quest. In between swigs of his bottle he gave me more information than any other on my travels. He had been an adventurer himself in his younger days, and said to me, "with the greatest respect, friend: to travel the dragon lands is a young man's errand. I took that pilgrimage myself."

"Really?" I asked. My voice was a bit louder than I had intended. "And did you see them?"

"I did," he said, "beautiful things, but deadly." Then the man's starry eyed look turned to one filled with remorse. "But no one has seen a dragon in years. Nobody knows where they went."

It didn't matter to me if they had vanished. Everyone knows that dragons are busy creatures. They're the angels of this land, with much greater matters to attend to. It had been my life's dream to see one with my own eyes ever since I heard about them as a man in my thirties.

"In your thirties?" The drunken man asked me after I told him such, "everyone here first hears of dragons as children."

"Word of them doesn't reach the ears of my people too often. I come from a land of tribes and war."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Ah," the man said, then took another large swig, "I'm sorry to hear that, friend."

"It's quite alright, really."

The man's words touched me, though I did not dare show it. It wasn't often that people had expressed such compassion to me, in this land of snow and stone or even in my land of sand and sun. Whether because of my dark skin or the way I talk, I did not know. The children were often curious of my looks, asking me why I look and speak the way I do. Yet the adults were often distrustful. Some spoke sly remarks thinking I was too foolish to understand them, and some were kind enough to speak them loud and clear to make sure I knew that I wasn't welcome.

The truth is that I don't have anything to go back to once I see the ancient lords of this world. I only have one dream and it is a simple one. Should I return to my lands I will only be met with the same monotony of war. And if I decide to stay here, I will be living among people who do not and will not accept me. To tell the full truth: I'm old, and I don't even want to live to climb down from this peak. Only a glimpse of what I came for will satisfy me, and grant me the strength I need to return to life.

But I don't think that will happen. As of writing this, I am cold and starving. The food I'd packed ran out two days ago and I haven't drank anything since last night. All I have in this bag now is some climbing rope given to me by the drunk man with missing teeth. I thanked him for it and jested that I'd always been good with a rope. He didn't laugh. It's an odd joke, perhaps, but one I found amusing nonetheless.

I hope I see something.

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The skies opened, and from them fell the the grand dragon armoured in scales of blue and purple. The size of a mountain, he was, and sailed through wind and sky with wings so strong and large that a white streak traced behind him each time he came out the other end of a cloud, and changed their shapes entirely.

It had been many years since his kind had descended the clouds and roamed this world's skies. It's as peaceful as I remember, he thought to himself. Many didn't like to come down to that world, which was precisely why this dragon did. It was a land for him to forget his life above the clouds and quell the thoughts raging in his mind, something he hadn't done for so long. Years without long meditation had bittered his heart and clouded his mind.

A few years in this place shall remedy that, he thought.

In just a few great beats of his wings, he sighted the place which he most liked to nest: the great falls of these mountains. He decided to land there and drink from its waters. The animals there scurried in fear of him as they always did. But they needn't worry; they were far too small.

The evening sun beamed its head and gave the clouds an orange tint, and shined a vibrant rainbow where the water crashed. It was a beautiful time to return.

His eyes had been closed as he drank. When they opened he stretched his legs and his wings, and looked to his side where something caught his eye: a human, hanging from a jagged cliff by a rope around his neck. A peculiar sight, the dragon thought. I've never seen them do that.

He took to the skies once more and the man was gone from his mind forever.