[ IP ] King of the Sky

'Wh-What is that?' 
 
'What is *what*, Varn? More mist? You know that's all we can ever see on these mountains.' 
 
 I look over at my companion. Varn is a good hunter, but prone to wild exaggerations and flights of fancy. The tales surrounding the Mountains of the Mists were so tall that he had taken some convincing to even come with me, gullible as he was. He still believed that there were dragons in here, still gliding over the peaks long after the last of the dwarves died out. 
 
 Varn is staring upwards, mouth hanging open slightly. His eyes are full of awe, and I roll mine as I follow his gaze. What I see makes my bottom jaw drop too. 
 
 Towering above us is, well... A dragon. There are no other words for it. It is huge, spanning across at least four mountains, wings vanishing into the mists. It gleams green-gold in the light, scales overlapping in patterns more intricate than I've ever seen. It's great eyes are a bright, fiery yellow, full of old wisdom. It is imposing and impossible and suddenly, Varn does n't seem so dimwitted after all. 
 
'That,' I inform my companion,'is clearly a dwarf built statue.' 
 
 Varn looks at me reproachfully, disbelief clear in his eyes. I'm not even sure where the statement came from, but the more I look at the statue, the more I believe it. The ends of its wings and tail vanish into the thick mists, and the dwarves were known for their unrivalled metal work, which is clearly what the scales are now that I look at them. Those eyes are incredibly lifelike, but the dwarves were master carvers with their gems. 
 
'Hollen, you've got to be kidding me.' 
 
 Varn's voice sounds strained, and I look away from the imposing sculpture. He is staring at me with a mixture of disbelief and wonder spread thick across his face. 
 
'No, Varn, I am not. The dwarves were masters of their craft, they've clearly built it into the mountains. It's impressive, but we have to keep moving if we are to make camp by nightfall.' 
 
'Impressive? *Impressive*? That's a dragon, Hollen! We've found one of the dragons fabled to live in the Mountains of the Mists! We're going to be rich!' 
 
 I sigh. Varn tests my patience sometimes, and he really will believe almost anything anyone tells him. If he were n't the best hunter from Mandola, I would have asked someone else to join me. 
 
'A real dragon, is it? Have you seen it move since we got here? No. It's clearly a masterpiece of metal work, left by the dwarves. I'm surprised no one else ever told us about it.' 
 
'No one else has ever come back,' Varn says petulantly.'Maybe we wo n't either.' 
 
'They just found their riches at in Inichi Port. That's why we are going, and maybe we will stay there too. Now come on, camp is on the otherside of this hill and we need to get there before nightfall.' 
 
 Varn grumbles but, with one last fearful glance at the sculpture, turns away and continues up the hill, with me close behind. To our right, a deep groan is followed by a rock slide clattering down the mountainside. 
 
'See!' Varn cries, spinning as we reach the peak, eyes trying to find the rocks moving in the mist.'I bet he caused that.' 
 
 I roll my eyes, but keep moving. Varn huffs, but follows my lead, muttering to himself about how no one ever believes him. I bite my tongue to stop myself from asking if he's ever wondered why. 
 
 ** 
 
 As the two men start the long hike down the other side of the hill, behind them an eyelid closes slowly over a yellow eye filled with old wisdom. 
 
 > First time posting here, I hope this is okay.
