"Boots and Saddles"

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

I gazed down from the high ridge, to follow the river winding its way lazily through the thick jungle covering the valley floor. I had grown up in a village at the far end of the Valley. The river began as a stream way up in the mountains at my back. I had one pet dragon back then. As a soldier, I’ve trained and flown enough dragons to choke a whale! I adjusted my visor, the sun was setting, the glare pained my eyes.

I turned from the ridge to rejoin my men. We were on our way back to the base. I ached from head to toe, It was a long flight. I hacked at lush foliage to our camp. As a 1st Cav officer, I chose this spot from memory. I had played as a child on this ridge. I flew with my Sheba over the valley hundreds of times, playing tag with my friends, dropping ripe pumpkins on kids from the neighboring village.,. racing to see whose dragon flew like the wind. Good memories...now we fly to defend our country from the Long Men. They came from across the sea, My great-grandmother says this is not the true world. She tells stories of her childhood after the Reckoning. She says the Earth had many nations, then the world was destroyed by atomic bombs dropped from something she calls jets. I believe her. I've seen the burnt ruins of large cities not far from here. She says the radiation from those bombs is what made dragons...she's pretty old. She says the rays made nature go haywire.

Sheba is natural to me.

"Lute, the boss is on the radio." snaps Sarge. "Says, LMs are on the move toward that village in the valley."

I duck under the camo netting, a group of staff are hunched over a makeshift table with a map. Through the dusk I can see our saddled charges scales glow red from the long setting sun. The radio sits on an old saddle behind the strategy session.

"Josie, what's the news?" , I cradle the mike against my shoulder and helmet as I try to eat from a c-ration can of peaches.

"Connie, listen up. We got news, recon says the LMs are rolling, headed to the valley, a long convoy with fresh troops and supplies. I need you to fly a few sorties to break up their party... " The line crackled with static. "Connie!...can you hear me?!"

"Yeah, Joe I got it...."

The sun sank below the western mountains. Nothing like a night flight.

"Sarge, get the ladies gassed up!

Sarge nodded to the Fuel Master, who barked some orders. A soldier turned the big wheel on a massive tank between the dozing row of dragons. From a spigot splashed a combustible fuel into a trough between the yellow eyed dragons, natural dragon fire burned, with fuel it burned hot enough to melt through steel.

"Sarge, rally the Riders up!"

"Boots and Saddles" filled the air from a loudspeaker.

Connie wrapped a bright yellow scarf around her neck, adjusted her helmet.

C'mon, Sarge! Time to fly!"

She cinched Sheba's saddle a little tighter, a strafing run took it's toll on the nylon saddle straps. Her leather gloves crinkled and the smell of natural sulfur opened her sinuses, her hand signal committed the squadron to flight.

Connie, smiled, she lived for these moments!

Sheba climbed, I guided her through the cross-currents caused by the mountains and rough ridges, the stars spread over the horizon.

As expected, the fiery bloom of missiles made a pattern like flowers from the jungle below, Sheba and I dove as one in our attack.