The dragon stretched its wings as it got up from its slumber, sniffing the air. It was a clear day: the smell of rain wouldn’t disturb its sensitive nose. The surrounding environment, a vast, incommensurable, treeless flatland, was filled with the scent of mammoth, ox, elk, wild horses, wolves, sawtooth tigers and humans. No matter if they preyed on grass or meat, all these animals were easy prey for the dragon. Its life hardly presented any challenge; how could a creature so vast, master of the air, breather of flames succumb to anything else?

Its wings started to flap. All it would take was one big prey, usually mammoth. Sometimes it would find a carrion, but most times it happened to be a small animal. Still, food was food, and nothing would ever take food from a dragon. But mammoth was the dragon’s favorite. Their smell was coming on the opposite side of the sun. Also, the wind was blowing on the dragon’s opposite direction, so that its own scent wouldn’t alarm them. Pretty lucky day. The dragon fully concentrated on their olfactory track, ignoring the human smell he could perceive from the same direction.

A herd of mammoth finally appeared to the dragon’s eyes, too. Now the distance was too small for any chance of stealth: the enormous creatures began their escape, their tumultuous step making both the earth and the air tremble. But the dragon was bigger than them, and was on air: it would always be faster than them. With the speed of a passing cloud, it individuated the slowest, weakest specimen: the apex predator dived down, and its talons opened up in its mortal embrace...

Then an acute, thunderous sound came from behind. It was distant, yet so powerful, it caught the dragon by surprise. Its talons, at the last moment, let the prey go. It wasn’t even one sound: it was like dozens of animals, screaming at the same time. The dragon concentrated again on the other surrounding scents, and apart from the running mammoth, one stood out.

It was the scent of humans. The dragon turned back, and here they were. A horde of males, holding something long on their paws.

The dragon was now confused. What were humans, the weakest and most pathetic of all big animals, attempting to do? Try to chase a bigger, better species away? When their flesh was so tender, it took only a small pressure to break their bones? They weren’t even worth its time: even if it could have taken them down in a pawful of moments, a whole herd of them wouldn’t satiate its stomach as much as a whole mammoth. The predator turned its head back to its actual prey...

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But a sudden, atrocious pain hit its left wing.

Another one hit its neck.

As the dragon lost height, it barely managed to look at its aching wing. A long spear with a sharp stone in its end was penetrating its flesh. It was one of the things the humans were holding.

The dragon’s mind was filled with suffer and terror. How did they do it? Of all species, how did humans come to be the first animals to cause the dragon actual damage?

But it couldn’t accept that. A dragon was better. A bunch of humans, no matter how numerous, would never top a dragon. The mammoth were now but a distant memory in a fight for its dignity...

But as it tried to get up, the neck screamed its pain. The dragon’s head felt dizzy. Its paws were trembling. Suddenly, another pain discharge overwhelmed the creature: it was in its heart...

Its senses abandoned the dragon, who collapsed on the ground with a rumbling, deafening sound. Its nose smelt no more.

***

The human chief was the first to get close. Despite having it seen with his own eyes, he still couldn’t believe it. He wanted to be absolutely sure. As he walked toward the dragon’s body, his bow kept staying stretched between his hands.

Finally, the dragon was in front of him. Its eyes were closed, its tongue out. Hesitantly, the human chief poked the monster with his bare feet. The rest of the hunter group looked at him, holding their breath in fear and disbelief.

But from the dragon came no reaction. No breath. Nothing.

Several streams of blood were now coming from its huge body. Their red pattern crossed the naked earth, and wet the hunters’ feet too.

The chief soaked his fingers in the dragon blood. He painted his cheeks with it, forming two thick lines on each side.

Eventually, he climbed on top of the dragon’s carcass and screamed his victory. Their victory. The hunters screamed too; intoxicated with joy, they ran towards the chief and danced around the dragon’s body, the first humans prevailing on the kings of the world.

Now the world would be ready to serve new kings instead.