I’m Pteranodon.

Not sure why and how my parents decided on the name. I would’ve appreciated a girl’s name but they probably got it from one of the old books they found around our little village. Those books are rare since we don’t have a whole lot. The village is on the top of a mountain. It’s remote – so remote that the next village is at the bottom of the mountain, supposedly. The fog is so dense in the mornings and the evenings, it’s hard to believe there’s life beyond us and when the fog lifts, it’s hard to imagine the tiny dots below are people walking around.

This morning, it’s brisk and sunny. There’s a quiet, mostly secret spot to sit and that’s where I sit every morning, kicking my legs, thinking about how to get off this mountain. Maybe this mountain top wouldn’t be so bad if Chief didn’t do his rituals. He’s pretty terrible.

Why terrible?

Great question but the air is sweet today, with lilacs blooming and all.

“Terry,” I say, “good morning.”

My friend, Pterodactyl, plops down next to me. He’s a quiet one. He swings his legs along with me.

Terry says, “I want off the damn mountain Odon.” He leans back on his hands. "Odon, Odon, Pteranodon. Still makes me laugh. Your mom was crazy." He shrugs a shoulder. "Then again, I don't have a mountain to stand on with mine either." A breeze gusts by and the grass bend along with it. He says, “Chief is doing some bad shit and I’ve –“ he clears his throat and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “I’ve had enough.” He closes his eyes, breeze whipping his curls around.

“Well,” I say. Well, truthfully, I don’t know what to say but I give it my best shot. “I’ll find a way off this mountain.”

Terry leans forward, elbows resting on his legs.

“Seriously,” I say. “I’ll do it. I’ll find a way and come get you.”

He runs his fingers through his hair and mutters, “Sacrifice Day is coming and guess whose name is in the bowl?”

Sacrifice Day. My breath is lost somewhere between my chest and my throat.

He says, “Don’t worry Odon. You’re not apart of it this time but –“ He scoots closer to the edge of the mountain.

“Come on now,” I say. I pull at the back of his shirt. “That’s not the way to get down.”

“Damnit, Odon. How the hell do you want me to get off the mountain then?” He swipes at his shirt and looks towards the bright blue sky, shading his eyes with his hand. “Thirty days til that bastard sacrifices another one of his lambs.”

“I’ve never seen a lamb but how about,” I say, “a goat.” The fresh air whips at my ankles. “That’s, wow –” I yank at his shirt but all he does is swat at my hand. “Get up and listen to my idea,” I mumble but he does a great job ignoring me.

He finally stands and palms a trinket in his hand. He turns it over and over and over. A little green dragon is carved in ivory. How he got his hands on ivory, I have no idea but he has it.

“This is for you,” he says. “Thirty days until Sac Day and how many more –“ he chokes on a cough. “Gotta get off the mountain,” he says.

He heads back to the village which isn’t too far of a walk. Thatched roofs and stone homes fill our little place. But the building in the center, which I heard it was once a church turned into a monastery which none of us really understand what either of those things are, is a big one. Made of stone and timbers, plaster and more stones. Lots of ceremonies start and end here. It’s where we store all the treasures we’ve found too – books and things from the Old World which sits above us, somewhere high in the sky. It’s where the dinosaur book my parents found sits and it’s probably where Terry stole ivory from. We’re really only allowed in the Grief Room of the Mainstay since Chief always has us working. The villagers plant seeds, build new houses, write down oracles, and others of the like. Terry makes his way to the Mainstay and I trail close behind.

His fingers travel the walls and dampness in the air sticks to my skin. He ducks into a small room and once again, I follow. Paintings of all the men and women, boys and girls, ever sacrificed line the walls. It’s the one place Chief allows us to grieve outside of our own homes. My mother is there, father too. Terry’s parents and brother are on the wall. His grandma is on it too but Terry carved her face out of it. He said it was a working idea he got from a book he found – Chief keeps the souls of the grieved if they’re painted on the walls but if they’re freed, you can guide them to wherever you want them to go. I don’t put a lot of stock in Terry’s superstitions because afterall, that’s all they really are. He turns his back and leans against the wall, slowly making his way down to the ground. He tucks his knees into his chest.

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I kneel next to him and say, “I want to get off the mountain too, Terry.” I join him and nudge him with my elbow. “I’m going to find one of those goats and follow it.” The wall against the back of my head is too cold. It sends a shiver down my spine. “Thirty days.” I give him a kiss on the cheek but he only closes his eyes. “I’m going to follow that goat with the green eyes tonight.”

The Mainstay is too chilly for me. The sun is where it’s at today. I pat his knee and let him grieve alone, like he prefers anyways. We must’ve been in there for some time because the sun’s setting and I still have to find the goat herd before the fog rises to high. If I close my eyes and let the scent of lilac and fresh turned soil fill my nose, I can quiet the rest of the noise around me. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s a little trick I’ve learned. Close your eyes, inhale and count the different smells, and then the world just quiets for a few precious moments.

Ah. Over there. The herd is close. We have a herdsman. It used to be me but I’m not sure who it is anymore. The green-eyed goat is my favorite. She’s old, wears a necklace with a goat on it, has a broken horn, and shrieks like a banshee but her screeches seem to ward off the predators around here. At least, that’s Terry’s theory. He thinks that the dragons and ottoias and other things think the scream belongs to one of them, protecting the mountain. My theory is she just sounds like an old crazy goat and we live in such a remote place, that no such thing would come to us anyways.

“Ol’ goat,” I say, “come here little old hag.” Green-eyed goat stomps the ground with a foot. “I know, I know.” I walk a few steps closer. “It’s just me. Just Odon.” Her necklace jingles back and forth. A few more steps and I grab her by the charm. “Green-eyed goat,” I say as calm as I can, “Odon needs to get off the mountain. I need you to show me where you go in the morning.” She huffs and grunts and have you ever tried to talk to a goat? I know how it sounds – crazy. But she does listen sometimes. I tuck my fingers around her collar and say, “Show me so I can show Terry before Sac Day.” That seemed to do the trick. Green-eye moves. She heads away from the village, pulling me a little too hard but I don’t mind. She takes me behind a boulder, rows and rows of tea plants, and several flower gardens reserved for Sac Day ceremonies. Then she stops right at the edge of the mountain. The sun is nearly down and the breeze has stalled out. The must of her coat finally hits me, not having the chance to be carried away with the wind.

“Damn, Green-eyed Goat,” I say. I pull my shirt over my nose but it refuses to stay. She pulls on me harder and harder though I’m leaning as far back from the edge as I can. Finally, I let go. She steps right over the edge and disappears into the fog. “What – oh my Gods.” I whisper, “Goat, are you?” I sit down at the edge, “Are you alive?” A little hoof stomp answers me.

If she can get down, I can surely try. Rolling to my stomach and hanging onto an old tree root, I let my legs dangle. With each inch I lower, I swear my heartbeat disappears. Another inch and another and my toes reach a ledge. Slowly, and I mean slowly, I let go of the root and stand on the edge of my world. The fog is too high to see the ledge and if I swivel my feet to the side, the edge isn’t far. The goat huffs a little. I reach for her and grab a tuft of her hock hair. She walks and I follow. The edge spirals down and I lose the ledge I was gripping. It’s just me holding onto a few goat hairs and sliding my feet against the ground. We walk down the spiral, further and further and further and then she stops. Her little feet stomp the ground several times. The fog is so dense, all I feel is her turn and press her noggin against my thighs. “Alright then,” I mutter. I turn too and make my way back towards the ledge we climbed down.

Back towards the village we head. She stops at the herd but I keep on. I won’t be able to tell Terry until the morning about the little path to nowhere I found. My family’s home is taken over now that my parents are gone so the only place for me to sleep is in the Grief Room at the Mainstay. The plaster is crude under my fingertips. A single window lets the moonlight filter in and I find a spot right under the sill to lay. I curl up and stare at all the faces. What if Terry is right? What if Chief keeps everyone’s soul? If he is right, what does Chief need them for and where did Terry’s grandma go? You know, those thoughts of the impossible really come alive right before falling asleep and right before sleep takes me, I notice another face is scratched out.

“Odon,” Terry’s tired voice wakes me.

I sit up and rub my eyes. It’s time to head to our spot to watch the sunrise but Terry doesn’t seem to notice me. His back is turned and he runs his fingers over the other scratched out face.

He says, “I’m ready to get off this freaking mountain. I think if I can tie this,” he turns the dragon charm over and over in his hands, “around a dragon, I can save you. Get you inside the dragon and then we both can go far away. Maybe we can fly down to the ground and see what’s really down there or maybe we can fly high up to that second moon. The blue one. The one you call the Old World. And then we can destroy Chief.” He sniffles and wipes his nose again.

I grab his hand and squeeze. “Terry, that’s ridiculous.”

He chuckles under his breath. “Yeah, yeah, I know you’d think this was ridiculous but I swear, my grandma is in that damn green-eye goat. I swear it. I know you don’t believe me but her soul is in that charm and yours, well…” he sighs. “Yours is with me but we have to get you safe before Chief finds you.”

I squeeze his hand again but this time, I don’t feel his hand. I squeeze again and again but my hand tightens around nothing. I pull on his shirt but nothing is between my fingers. “Terry?” I push on him but I push on nothing. “Terry,” I say.

He doesn’t move and he doesn’t budge. He pulls a knife out of his pocket and mumbles, “Nearly done scraping you off this damn wall.” He scrapes some more and more until the entire picture is gone. He rubs the dragon statue over the carved spot. “Alright.” He clears his voice again and heads towards the door. “Time to go to our spot and watch the sunrise.”

He palms the dragon and shoves it in his pocket. “Come with me Odon.” He opens the door. “The lilacs are in bloom,” he says, “I wish you could smell them.”