The dragon was going to come today. George knew it with absolute certainty, though if someone were to ask him why he was so certain, he would have found it hard to explain. It really did not matter. It was going to happen today. The sky above the village was overcast grey, endless clouds rolling in from the channel, making the dragon’s approach easy. He strained his eyes trying to spot it but he knew it was useless. Humans never spotted dragons until they were right on top of them. Old Max laid calmly at his feet though, so there still was time. Somehow dogs always spotted dragons first. Dogs and chicken. The henhouse was also quiet, a proud old rooster named Galius, stood guard in the open door challenging anyone who would dare to come close.

George lifted a hand to remove a lock of wayward hair that kept falling in front of his eye and almost hit his forehead with a gauntleted hand. He was wearing a full suite of plate armor, painted in dragon fighter’s white and red, his helmet rested on a water barrel nearby, together with his sword and shield. The plume of feathers on top of the helm looked like it was pulled straight out of the tail of Galius the rooster, who, George noticed, kept his tail tucked inside the henhouse rather than displaying it proudly. George almost told him, that he did not do it, but it just was not right for a dragon fighter to be talking to roosters.

Max stirred at his feet suddenly sniffing the air. He rose on his haunches, tense and alert. George hurriedly reached for his helm and started putting it on. Somehow it was taking him inordinately long to get the helmet settled over his head, and the moment he finally succeeded the visor clanged shut and got stuck closed, obscuring his sight. He heard Max’s mad barking and the rooster alarm followed by frantic clucking of spooked hens, the cacophony muffled by the lining of the helmet. After a bit of struggle, he finally got the helmet set right, grabbed his sword and shield and looked around. The dragon was here, it was indeed almost on top of them, coming at the village from over the Breakon ridge, flying low. It was enormous, its wingspan wider than the whole yard. It was covered in dull black scales, that rippled as the huge beast beat its wings.

The dragon saw George and adjusted its course heading straight for him. His neck bent up as he was readying himself to flame. George held his shield in front of him, the red lines of the cross painted on it started to glow softly. The shield sensed the approaching dragon too and was getting ready too. The dragon lowered its head and flamed, setting dry grass in the yard on fire. George raised the shield over his head and the dragon’s flames deflected harmlessly around him. They did not even feel warm, and though the smell of burning grass assaulted his nose, he did not feel any smoke.

It was the helm, right. The magical helm was protecting him, letting him breathe easily. George spun around and faced the dragon, that was completing a banking turn readying itself for another pass. The dragon flamed again, this time lighting up the roof of the henhouse, but the flames did not have any effect on George yet again. The huge beast landed, crushing the fence, and stomping over Missis Gethin’s zucchini patch. George stepped forward holding his shield and sword. The dragon bared his enormous fangs and slowly advanced on foot. Max was barking madly behind George’s back, like he was trying to tell him something, but George could not allow his focus to shift away from the dragon. He was waiting for the beast to make a move. The dragon feinted to the right, then quickly stepped to the left. George spotted his intention and stepped to left too, keeping himself between the house and the dragon. The dragon belched flame. George forced his shield forward deflecting the flames back at the dragon’s muzzle. They connected and the dragon squeaked, making a surprisingly high-pitched whine for an animal of his size. Somehow George expected it to roar angrily and lash itself with its tail.

The dragon whined again and then jumped forward knocking at George’s shield with his chest, pushing him stumbling backwards. George stubbed with his sword. The dragon was pushing on his shield, making it very hard to see. He stubbed again. The sword connected with something but the dragon just kept pushing. There had to be some reaction...