The two met in the middle of the clover patch. The little creature raised his blade, a sword the length and thickness of a toothpick, and went to skewer the gigantic dragon. The beast’s neck curved to avoid the blow, circling around Bartu’s sword, and then its great jaws opened.
Bartu swung an acorn shell through the air, only barely bringing the impromptu shield up in time. Flames blasted forth from the dragon’s mouth, burning blue as they lapped at the little creature’s shield. The acorn shell burst into flames, but Bartu held on, lifting it again into the air as the dragon brought its right claw down atop him.
The acorn shell shattered under its claws, though the weight of the blow caused the dragon’s foot to swing down and sink into the earth. It brought its other claw up in an overhand blow, but Bartu blocked it with his sword.
image [https://images2.imgbox.com/ec/d7/jgB7BwTz_o.png]
The pearly monster stepped backwards, sword held in both hands, and brought it around overhead to point it at the beast. The dragon circled about him, curls of fire snaking out from under its jaw. Red eyes rolled about in its head, the impression vaguely smacking of insanity.
One, two, one, two. Bartu's sword danced with the dragon, his blade a flurry of light as it sought an entry into the beast's flesh. The quest was futile: its scales were impenetrable, its claws lightning fast as it blocked each blow of the little creature.
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Bartu began to tire. The little creature was unused to protracted combat - at least he thought he was - and the extended fight was wearying him. The dragon, however, was a machine. Time bothered it as little as the thorns of Bartu's sword, the depths of combat no more than an irritance. As it saw Bartu slowing its maw gaped wide - to laugh at him, perhaps, or to sneer, or even to breath more fire.
Bartu took his chance. Once, twice did his blade flicker forth, spearing upwards, only to then withdraw. With it came one drop of blood… and then another… and another.
The dragon heaved its head back with an almighty roar, its pain resounding against the Heavens. Blood, bright red and viscous, dripped from its throat, staining the forbearing loam of the deep dark wood.
It retreated furiously, cries pouring out all the while, the sound strangely metallic on Bartu's ears. Quickly, quickly, as fast as it once was slow, it retreated back into the underbrush, leaving a trail of crimson before it.
Bartu stood there, panting. He had done it. The flower was safe. The little monster had won.
It took him a while to get the strength to clean his blade and to return to the flower, which remained serene, unswayed by recent events.
It was still there, a flash of blue in the sea of green. Bartu gave it a gentle pat on the stem, then gave a start as one of the leaves curled about him, as if in thanks.
It had been a good day.