George stared after the girl as she walked off, his jaw hanging open. He found his voice idling somewhere in the back of his throat and called out, “Hey! Wait!” The girl stopped and whirled back around to face him, her eyes staring daggers through him.

“What?” she asked so icily, George actually thought he felt a brief chill.

“I…I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he stammered, looking down at his feet as if the sight of his dirty tennis shoes might give him courage. “What I said was, um…” He trailed off.

“Stupid?” she suggested. He nodded mutely. She sighed and thrust out a hand to him. “Well, I guess your apology is accepted. Just try not to be so…stupid from now on, okay?” Again, George replied with a mute nod.

“Wanna play dragonslayer wit’ me?” he mumbled. “You can be the knight, if you want.”

“I’d rather be the dragon,” she replied with a wicked smile. “But you won’t be slaying me.”

George looked up, confused. “Why not? That’s the whole point of dragonslayer. It’s right there in the name.”

“Well, we’re gonna do it differently. We’re gonna have an adventure together.” She sounded very certain, as though the game had already been played and the outcome was an inevitable fate.

George shrugged, “Okay, what do we do?”

She grinned again, and her teeth look a bit sharper, her skin a bit scalier. “Follow me.”

George kicked a tuft of grass as Benjamin disappeared around the corner of the house. “What good’s a knight without a dragon to slay?” he muttered to himself, scowling. He his wooden sword into the one of the belt loops of his pants and marched around the side of the house after Benjamin, determined to convince his friend to return to the game.

Benjamin was nowhere in sight as George reached the front yard. The street was empty except for a young girl, about George’s age, drawing absentmindedly on the sidewalk with chalk. George decided she was a better playmate than no one at all and walked up to her.

“Hey,” he said, hands thrust deep into his pockets in what he hoped was a nonchalant way.

“Hey,” she replied, not looking up from her doodling.

“Whatcha drawing?” George asked after a moment of silence.

“Dunno,” the girl replied. “Just stuff.”

“Wanna play?” George asked.

“Depends,” she replied.

“On what?”

“On what you want to play,” she answered, finally looking up at him. She had dark hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to see right through him.

“Well,” George said, reaching for his sword, “I was playin’ dragonslayer earlier, but Ben decided he didn’t wanna play anymore. We could do knight and princess, an’ I could rescue you from a castle or somethin’.” He showed her the sword, swinging it around for effect.

“No thanks,” she said, returning her attention to the sidewalk.

“Why not?” George asked petulantly. “You’re just doin’ some dumb drawings.”

The girl’s head snapped up, and she stood. She was George’s height, but seemed much bigger in his mind. “Because I’m not some stupid princess waiting in a stupid castle, you….you stupid boy!” She whirled around and stormed off.

George was already winded as he brushed the hair from his eyes. Sweat mingled with the dirt on his face, creating a brown streak across his brow as he wiped at his forehead. The ground around him was singed, but he remained unburnt so far.

“You cannot hope to defeat me,” the dragon said, its tail curled around its forelegs and smoke billowing out of its flared nostrils. “Give up, boy.”

George took a deep breath and grinned. He hefted the sword in his right hand, felt the ancient weight of it against his palm. This would be a good death…

“For the dragon,” he added, to himself.

“Hmm?” the dragon rumbled. “Do you have fight left in you still, boy?”

George looked up at the dragon and grinned. “Of course I do,” he said casually, “I’m the hero of the story.”

George charged in, sword raised, weaving back and forth to present a harder target. The dragon reared up on its hind legs and flapped its tremendous wings, buffeting George as he dashed forward. With a roar, the dragon unleashed a line of crimson flame, the fire flashing out to burn George to a cinder.

The boy raised his sword, catching the flames along the weathered blade. The sword seemed to absorb the heat, drawing the fierceness out of the fire. The dragon roared in anger.

“That’s not fair!” the dragon snarled. Or was it more of a whine?

George stopped. “Of course it’s fair. It’s a magic sword. Everyone knows magic swords can absorb dragon fire.”

“You should’ve said before we started!” the dragon cried, turning its scaly back to George and stomping off for home,

The world around him seemed to melt away. George stood in his backyard, a wooden sword clutched in one hand, his friend Benjamin stomping off around the corner of the house.