The Loss of Lemon Cove

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Astrid knew that better than most. It wasn't just that she was a member of the last generation who could remember a time before they came, although that was a part of it. It was also the fact that her family had lived in the Valley for generations before they'd arrived, and - although one ancestor had written a curiously detailed book about fairies - not one had mentioned dragons in any of their books or letters or journals. But, more than any of that, she'd been there, living in the Valley, when it happened. She was one of the few people to have seen a dragon up close - to have looked into the cold, calculating eyes - and lived to tell the tale. Not that she told it often: it had been the worst day of her life and telling the story always brought those memories back in force.

The worst day, that is, until today. Today, she welcomed the memory, the only memory that could take her away from the horror of the present.

She could almost smell the smoke, even now.

It was a few weeks before her 10th birthday. The day itself started like any other: her father's voice, playfully threatening to tickle her if she didn't get out of bed; the smell of breakfast cooking in the kitchen.

Astrid got out of bed just before her father would have tickled her, as she usually did, got dressed, and headed down to the kitchen, where her mother was just finishing up.

"I thought your father and I were going to have to eat all this food by ourselves."

"Hey, mom," Astrid replied groggily.

Her father came into the kitchen behind Astrid, addressing each of them, "Hey, sleepyhead. Hey, honey." He sat at the kitchen table and Astrid joined him. Her mother set down a plate for each of them, went back to fetch her own, and then sat down, as well.

As they ate, they read: her mother read the real estate and financial sections of the newspaper, her father read the weather and politics sections, and Astrid read whatever book she was on. That day, it was the fairy guidebook her ancestor had written. Astrid was fascinated by the descriptions. She was old enough to have figured out that fairies and other mythical creatures didn't actually exist, but still enjoyed pretending they did.

Although few words were ever exchanged at the breakfast table, it was one of Astrid's favorite times with her family. At dinner, they had a no-distractions rule, so that they talked with one another about their day, and that was important. But, at these silent breakfasts, there was a feeling of love that permeated the air, along with the promise of the new day to come.

After breakfast, her father collected the dishes and began washing them, while her mother got ready for work. During the school year, Astrid would have been getting ready for school, but this was summer. In the summer, she had free rein of her family's orchard, and often went out to play and read among the trees. She loved the smell of the oranges, and found that climbing the trees often covered her in their scent, like a natural perfume. Her dogs, Pearl and Peanut, couldn't climb the trees, but they always followed her and stood guard at the base.

By the time her mother walked out of the house and got into her car to head to work, Astrid was high in a tree, reading the fairy book out loud to the dogs below, as though they could understand her. As for the dogs, they listened attentively, occasionally cocking their heads as they tried to figure out what the words meant.

Astrid stopped reading her book when she heard her mother's car start, "There goes the lady of the castle," she announced to Pearl and Peanut, "off to make the world better one house at a time!"

Suddenly, there was a crash and the screeching sound of twisting metal filled the air. Within moments, the air was filled with smoke, accompanied by the smell of burning hair and plastic.

Astrid climbed down quickly, almost falling twice, and ran for the house. She realized that, whatever had happened, there was likely nothing she could do, but she wanted to do something, anyway.

As she emerged from the last row of trees, she saw it. Bigger than an elephant, covered in scales, with huge, leathery wings. She recognized it, of course, but couldn't understand how it could be there. It was facing the flaming, twisted hunk of metal and plastic that had once been her mother's car, as though sizing it up.

Astrid screamed.

The monster, the dragon, turned towards her. Its cold, intelligent eyes took her in and it began to move in her direction. It was surprisingly graceful for something so large. Astrid wanted to run but, instead, stood frozen in shock. Pearl and Peanut had no such issue: seeing the intruder approaching their charge, they began barking ferociously. As it drew near, Astrid saw the blood on its claws and teeth and wondered morbidly whether or not it was from her mother.

It stopped before the dogs and drew its head back. Somehow, Astrid understood that it was preparing to attack them. She rushed forward, screaming, "Nooooooooo!"

"Get away from her," her father's voice bellowed from somewhere behind the dragon. It turned its head to glance at him, then back at Astrid.

And, just like that, it unfolded its impossibly large wings, flew into the air, and was gone. Her father rushed over, picked her up, and carried her inside. He tried 911 again and again until he got through. Astrid didn't know what the operator had told him. All she knew was that, whatever it was, it caused him to turn on the television. They sat in front of it for the rest of the day, watching in shocked horror as attack after attack was covered in gruesome detail.

As the day unfolded, the newscasters eventually announced that the dragons would attack anything with a running internal combustion engine. If her father had used any one of several pieces of farm equipment that morning, it would have been he who had died in a bloody inferno, rather than her mother. He held Astrid close and cried, apologizing for…

"Mrs. Taylor!"

"Hmmm?" Astrid, roused from her memories, focused her gaze on the speaker.

"We're ready for you," the funeral director said, suddenly gentle again.

Astrid nodded and followed him into the office.