Izzy Cracknell

Flying Solo

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.” The rasping voice drifted into the still night sky, delivering the story they knew so well to the occupants of Oakhollow. They were all seated on worn logs around the large communal fire, gathered in celebration to listen to the old tales. Though the air was chilly, the dancing flames gave off enough heat to warm the whole village - even the bones of the elderly, like the white-haired storyteller of Oakhollow who sat on a gnarled tree stump near the fire.