A merchant caravan had made camp among the village ruins.
Their goods could not withstand the rain, so they used the abandoned houses for what little shelter they offered. There was no point fretting over the delay. Thunder had rumbled through the night for two days, and only this morning had the sky cleared enough to let through a little daylight.
An iron pot rested on a few stones, with dry rations and wild greens bubbling away inside. The damp firewood was hard to burn, and the bluish smoke hung low, stinging everyone's eyes.
The man feeding wood beneath the pot rubbed his eyes, then suddenly stood up, staring wide-eyed as he pointed at the sky.
"Look!"
"What is it?"
"Look up there!"
Everyone followed his pointing finger. Against the gray sky, something long and black was falling from high in the pale canopy overhead.
And it was alive, twisting and struggling without pause.
The caravan erupted into confusion, everyone gazing skyward and shouting.
With their heads tilted back, they watched the long black shadow fall lower and lower until it vanished in the distance. Then came a muffled thud, as though it had landed in mud. The wild grass blocked their view of what had happened.
No one moved. No one spoke.
After a long moment, someone stammered.
"What was th-"
Before he could finish, someone with a cracked, gong-like voice shouted.
"A dragon's fallen!"
The words burrowed into everyone's ears, and cries broke out through the crowd. Some backed away; others wanted to go and look.
"A fallen dragon" was like a spark dropped into dry grass, instantly setting their curiosity alight.
They assigned a few people to stay behind and watch the goods, mules, and horses. Then dozens of them raced off in nervous excitement toward where