Write about: the dragon rider.
Because Max has recently become very interested in dragons. Plus we were in a shop in town this afternoon and we saw a wooden carving of a Komodo dragon and that just sparked all sorts of questions.
Bakery was fairly quiet again this morning. Still doing good business, it's just such a stark contrast to the madness of the summer.
There is still a chill in the air as he wakes to greet the dawn. Slipping out from beneath the twisted heap of rags he uses for bed sheets, he moves to the mouth of his cave and looks out over the valley he calls home.
The silence is unnatural, but he has grown accustomed to it. When a thing follows you wherever you go, there is little choice in the matter. So he doesn't miss the birdsong. He doesn't notice the absence of bushes and branches being disturbed by foraging animals.
All he hears is the steady, throbbing breathing of the dragon which is curled up on the cave floor behind him. Still asleep. Still dreaming? Perhaps. If so, he does not wish to know what of.
Soon enough they will take to the skies. To seek out breakfast. To feel the rush of wind in their faces. To search for signs of their pursuers.
For now, though, all is peaceful. He does not need to worry about their next destination, their next hideaway. He does not need to think of the family and friends his flight has forced him to leave behind. He does not need to concern himself with the punishments he and the dragon would incur should they be caught.
He does not need to, but he does anyway.