A brush stroke of red rippled against the sky, delicate as a piece of string. Jinsol caught it between the claws of one foot, careful not to tear it.

He had slipped out of the mountain for fresh air, having laid low in the den after his brothers had been displeased by his last treasure hunt. A Sheng caravan, what was he thinking–that was too reckless, they said. “It was a handful of wagons and a smattering of humans, easy pickings. Relax, it’s not like I won’t run into another one. At most, I’d hunt for dinner.” he had promised them, before he had taken flight.

But the length of gossamer silk, embroidered with gold thread and seed pearls, distracted him. A veil, not too extravagant but still finely crafted. It suffused the rarefied air with the fragrance of jasmine and a wish to fly free.

A curious impulse tugged at him. Like a kite on a spool of thread, he was drawn below the clouds, to the city of the humans, to an expansive estate nestled amid busy streets. The courtyard was bordered with shiny soldiers, and uniformed servants clustered around individuals in bright, sumptuous silks. Even from a distance it was a familiar sight; humans thronged about a single, over-important one.

His younger brothers' admonitions and warnings pushed to the back of his mind, he swooped down to the gathering. Those human lordlings wrapped in gold and conceit thinking they own the earth… it would do them good to learn some humility. He grinned.

In front of the central house was a box wagon laden with chests, spilling gold and pearls. He landed next to it. Screams erupted and the humans flapped in a frenzy, the servants crouching in fright, soldiers breaking formation.

He hardly noticed them, but then a man in garish red Sheng robes stood on a gilded chair, squawking, "Beast! How dare you barge in my court, I'm the heir of royal dragonslayers--eek!"

A flick of Jinsol's tail knocked away the chair from under the pompous human and sent him slumping on the ground. A pampered silk bag claiming to be a dragonslayer, what a farce. He sniffed. A woman in matching robes helped the man to his feet, her movements almost calm even as her eyes were widened in alarm.

Jinsol’s attention returned to the wagon. He glanced at the treasure, snagging ropes of pearls and bags of gold taels in his claws, but then a vivid flutter caught his eye.

A woman in red, the same roseate shade as the veil in his grasp. Her manner of dress was neither Geunhwan nor Sheng; it was unlike anything he had ever seen before. She stepped forward as if to defend the bounty. As his gaze swung towards her, she froze in her tracks. Yet she remained poised as his movements whipped her layered gown into a tumultuous cloud.

She gazed back at him, almost defiantly, with striking eyes that curved upwards at the corners. She reminded him of the kinds of princesses spoken about in tales: black hair, fair skin, red lips. Despite her doll-like facade, she seemed less porcelain and more steel.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Much more fascinating than pearls that littered the sea or common gold taels that could be found in any rich merchant's vault.

It's you, wasn't it? The one who wished to fly free?

Then come with me, beautiful treasure.

Jinsol approached and she flinched, but didn't scream. Instead, a tall, thin woman a few paces away screeched. She flapped about like a scarecrow, her gaudy yellow robes hanging off her scrawny frame. A tall man in a red cloak and armor that shone gold stepped in front of her as if in protection. As if to guard her from his grasp.

Hardly of interest to me. Focused on his objective, the dragon ignored the scarecrow woman scrambling inside a carriage. But his treasure darted, seeking to enter the carriage. She yanked at the door, only to be rebuffed by the other woman, the two of them caught in a tug-of-war.

Jinsol veered, aiming to reach the lady before she could hide. The armored man blocked his way, but was cleared with a single swat of his tail.

As he strode closer, the scarecrow woman erupted into another ragged scream and pushed his treasure with such force that she fell on the ground. Undeterred, she collected herself and ran to the edge of the courtyard, in the short shadows of the side building. She fell still and silent, not even breathing.

He smirked in amusement. Did she think he wouldn't see her?

"I found you," he declared, his voice reverberating through the courtyard. He released the veil over her head, and caught sight of her wide eyes and parted lips before it shrouded her face.

Retracting his claws, he grabbed the woman. That finally shattered her calm; she trashed about and cried in a language unknown to him before stuttering in Sheng. But the word for 'help' died on her lips as soldiers in formation drew their bows and pointed spears at them.

Jinsol’s eyes narrowed at the crest of the so-called dragonslayer on the soldiers’ armor. A dragon impaled on a flowered branch. Obnoxious.

"It's taking my tribute!" the pompous Sheng man shrilled. He yelled his orders from behind a wall of soldiers, oblivious to the scowl of his matched woman beside him. "Don't let it escape!"

A few soldiers loosed their arrows. He curled up to protect the treasure in his grasp. One fool rushed with a spear and was easily swept away with his tail. But more arrows rained on them, a file of spearmen charged, and he snatched her just a hair’s width out of danger. He frowned. Did they even want her alive or were they content to hunt her like game?

“Tell them to be careful!” the Sheng woman admonished. “Lest they retrieve the princess in pieces.”

The man didn’t seem to care, continuing to yell and demand, but the soldiers faltered, hesitating. Jinsol took the chance to swipe the wagon and deposit his treasure inside it. She rattled the lattice door, but with his claws clamped around the wagon, it refused to budge. Before the attacks could resume, he took to the sky, zigzagging to elude arrows, carrying off the woman secured in the wagon. She gasped and stopped struggling, as the distance to the ground grew.

When he had gained enough altitude, he tried to fly slower and smoother, mindful of his human passenger. Despite his caution, when he checked on her she was slumped inside the wagon, fainted. "But didn't you wish to fly?" He didn't understand why she would be terrified of flying. Shouldn't a human rejoice finally being able to take to the skies after a lifetime of crawling on the ground? He shook his head; earthbound creatures didn't know what they were missing.

“Perhaps in the future, I could teach you to appreciate flight,” he mused. Soaring through a fluffy canopy of clouds, he oriented himself to the direction of the silver-wreathed mountain he called home.