Ylvir immediately shoved his tin whistle back into his pocket, rushing through the crowd to the cry's origin. He did not hesitate to push people aside or clumsily stomp on their feet—he simply rushed to the aid of whatever creature had called for it.

He ignored cries and protests and occasional profanities thrown his way. They did not seem to care very long anyways, their attention absorbed by something else they felt was more important, and he was soon to find out why.

He was finally able to break through to a nearly open space, were it not for the large, blanketed object with only its top edges revealing anything of the mystery that lay underneath, and the strangely dressed man who shouted above the crowd, speaking to them with grand inflections in his tone and a broad, toothy grin on his face.

"Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls. Today I have brought to you wonders the likes of which have rarely been seen before. Some of you knew them already, but many of you did not. But for my last revelation, I can guarantee you will all be astonished. I have searched long and hard, far and wide to procure this very creature for you all to marvel at, for it is one that even legends have made legends of—a mere myth to mankind. But now, you all may see it for yourselves. The beast that swallows men whole, whose very breath is fire, who has talons to rend the thickest armor. My dear compatriots, I reveal to you... the mighty dragon!"

Ylvir watched in the same awe as the rest of the crowd as the man with fancy clothes and oiled hair pulled aside the blanket with a flourish. The people pointed and murmured to themselves at what Ylvir found to be a heartbreaking sight indeed.

What the blanket revealed to be underneath itself was a cage with strange symbols etched into its frame. Inside it lay a lithe creature with dull and flaky green scales, curled tightly in on itself, unable and unwilling to move inside its cage. It had patches of matted, grimy red fur and in one of the bigger patches, Ylvir was able to make out some of its face, pressing up against the corner of its prison.

It let out a mournful moan, and the people who had slowly been approaching it suddenly stepped back in fear, but as they saw it lay motionlessly, they lost that fear, only for some to have it replaced by confusion and even outrage.

"That's no dragon!"

Ylvir ripped his gaze away from the sad creature to the source of the voice, unable to locate it.

"I assure you, it is," the fancy man said with a smile that had since lost its sincerity.

As much as Ylvir hated it, he agreed with whomever had shouted. Whatever the creature once was, a mighty dragon it was no longer.

The people followed up on the outcry and began making their own, revolting against the man who once held their adoration.

"Where's the fire?!"

"Where are its sharp teeth?!"

"Fire! Make it breathe fire!"

Ylvir did not join them. He was not angry—he was sad. But he watched still as the fancy man's face grew red with fury. With his sharp hearing, he was able to make out the man muttering, "So the heathens want fire, eh? Well then fire, they shall have!"

Ylvir watched in mounting horror as the man pulled what he assumed could only be a whip from his side, which he failed to notice before. He froze as the man unraveled the coiled leather and announced to the still riotous crown, "Behold, the dragon's flame!"

Before Ylvir could even blink, the whip cracked and he flinched as it landed a blow on the beast, who in result produced a heart-rending cry. He looked wide-eyed to the rest of the crowd as they cheered the man on, encouraging him to beat the fire out of the creature, his terror rising as the volume of their voices did. He flinched with every blow, and then his eyes met the creature's.

They were a depthless, inky black that told their secret mysteries to him in a moment's time. They told not of something once terrible, but something once majestic. Most importantly, they told of loss. Not just loss of pride and respect, but something far greater and more valuable. In those eyes, he nearly saw himself.

And then he heard the words that changed his life forever as those pitiful eyes pleaded with his own horrified ones.

Please... Help me.

Rage. Ylvir felt pure, unadulterated rage. This creature had been something magnificent and respectable once, and it had everything torn away from it. And for what? The entertainment of a few? How dare they enjoy this poor creature's misery! How dare they cage something so beautiful and exploit it for their own amusement! How dare they!

Ylvir's chest rumbled deeply with a powerful growl. When the people heard the deep sound that practically thrummed within their own chests from its sheer power, they initially believed it to be emanating from the dragon, silencing their jeers and stepping away cautiously. But when a dark form in their own ranks grew larger and bristled with fury, they knew they were mistaken, and that the mistake might very well cost their lives.

In Ylvir's wrath, he left the better part of his humanity.

His claws ripped from his gloves and he tore off the cloak as best he could, leaving it in tattered shreds, his wings then able to spread, pushing the villagers alongside him away, then spanning up, far above himself, the black feathered appendages adding to his mass. His lips snarled back to reveal sharp, gleaming fangs, his hackles rose, his spines bristled, his muscles tensed, his red eyes glowed with bestial wrath. He was a nightmare incarnate.

The crowd cowered away from the monster, and when one woman let loose a terrified scream, they all lost their heads, scrambling over each other to get away. Ylvir snarled and snapped at them for only a moment until he turned his focus entirely on the man with the whip.

The man trembled significantly, his limbs shaking visibly. Ylvir approached the man like a predator, stalking him with deadly grace. The man then steeled himself. He dealt with beasts every day. What difference should this one make, even if it wasn't in a cage. He cracked the whip as a threat.

"Stay back, beast. I'm warning you," he shouted, his voice cracking only a little.

Ylvir growled at the man. "Will you put me in a cage, too?" he snarled. "Will you rip me from my family? Beat me 'til I do as you wish, simply for a few laughs?"

The man's face paled, sweat shining on his forehead as the beast grew ever closer. "Y-y-you s-speak?"

"Yes," Ylvir hissed in the man's face, towering over him. "And if you would only listen, you would know she does, too."

The man gulped. Ylvir raised a clawed hand, swiping it across the man's chest and sending him backwards as Ylvir kept a grip on his whip. As the man lay on the ground, writhing and crying pitifully in pain, Ylvir tore the whip to small bits, rendering it useless. He stepped to the cage, approaching the dragon and putting a paw to her head reverently.

She nuzzled it. Thank you.

"How do I free you?" he asked her quietly.

She looked up to the top of the cage. The runes. They are the true bars to my prison.

Ylvir nodded, and with a leap and a swish of his mighty wings, he came atop the cage. Leaning over the edge he took a claw and drew it along the edge, scratching a line through the runes, destroying their power.

As soon as the dragon felt her taste of freedom, she let forth a triumphant roar that had Ylvir smiling victoriously. She rammed her head into the bars and after a few times, found herself able to escape to the other side of her prison after so long. But she did not leave right away. Instead, she faced the boy who rescued her. And bowed her head to him.

I owe you my life.

"Nonsense," he smiled, and patted her head lovingly. "Now go, before you find yourself trapped again."

Know this, Ylvir. I will forever be indebted to you and the kindness you have now shown me.

And then her stiff wings spread openly and after a few warm up flaps that sent gusts of cool, dusty wind through Ylvir's fur and feathers, she took to the evening sky, her long, serpentine body corkscrewing into the clouds as Ylvir watched her disappear, a contented smile on his face.

"Ylvir!"

His head whipped down as he saw his father stomping his way angrily to the cage he stood on, his own fury clear in his gait as well as his expression.

"Uh-oh."

Dedicated to @TheOneWithoutCrown , who hates my cliffhangers. ;)