Riders of the Valley
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. But oh, are they there now.
Their wheeling forms cast dancing shadows upon the earth below that change and twist every second, as the dragons do. Their massive wings blot out the light above you when they fly past—sometimes screeching, sometimes roaring, sometimes spewing flame, but always, always, they pause for a millisecond to notice you. Their ancient eyes, glittering with wisdom and wildness, forever change every soul they choose to gaze at—and whether their subject comes back alive or not is an unshakable testament to one’s inner courage and fire. Wind rushes up in their wake when they fly, enough to make even the mightiest pine tree bow. Over the course of hundreds of years, explorers have noted everything about the dragons; from their feeding (they love meat, and surprisingly, berries) to their mating dances (an elaborate sky spectacle with many males swooping and calling around a single female, before she finally chooses her mate after hours of intent scrunity of each male, and wraps herself around her chosen in a dive, both pulling up the second before they’d smash into the ground).
