It took us almost three days to return to the village while dragging the huge body of the slain dragon with us. When we arrived, people started cheering at us and calling other members of the tribe to come see our catch. Even the kids were let out of their lessons to see the body being dragged through the tents.

When we reached the communal hall, the chief came to meet us outside, which was quite the rare occurrence. We dragged the body all the way to him, put the sac with its blood next to it, and took a step back, leaving the body between him and us. He bent down and started examining the dragon, looking at its claws, at its teeth, at its wings.

When he was finally satisfied he let out a vigorous laugh before addressing us, "you have certainly found quite the catch!"

"Thank you, chief. The spirits of the mountain must have been smiling on us," Tasha replied.

The chief nodded in approval of her somewhat humble reply and said, "go rest now, the ceremony will take place at dinner like usual," and dismissed us.

We gladly went back to our shared tent to drop our luggage and get some well deserved rest. When we were all sprawled on the furs of the tent, enjoying what was the closest thing to an actual bed that existed on the mountains, Tasha started giggling. Soon Ivan followed, then Andrei, then I too got swept up in the moment. Moments later we were all laughing as if we had suddenly gone crazy.

"We killed a fucking dragon!" Ivan shouted.

"I know!" Tasha replied.

"Not a wyvern, an actual dragon!"

"I know!"

Andrei covered his eyes with his arm as he continued laughing. "Ancestors, that thing was gigantic."

"Hey, do you think dragon beats giant?" I asked.

"I don't know, I think it would depend on the giant, why?" Tasha said.

"Because the chief defeated a storm giant for his last infusion," I explained.

"Oh shit," Ivan said, "that dragon is definitely a contender."

"Mmh mmh," Tasha mumbled in approval.

"Wait." Andrei shot up and turned to look at us. "Does that mean one of us could be the next chief?"

"I don't know if I want a chief who falls into rabbit traps," Ivan said.

"One time! It happened one time!" he snapped, making us laugh even more.

"Still," Tasha said once the laughter quieted down, "that was definitely a good hunt."

"Do you think we would have managed if it hadn't been sleeping?" Ivan asked.

"I wouldn't bet on it," Tasha said.

"Yeah, eight javelins tend to make quite the difference," I added, receiving more nods from the others.

We kept talking about our latest achievement like that for a while until, one by one, we fell asleep from the exhaustion of the trip. It was only at dinner time that someone finally came to wake us so that we could go attend the ceremony.

The dragon had been left outside the hall, as it was too big to go through the doors of the hall and the cold outside was more than enough to keep it fresh for weeks. A few pieces were missing from it, sign that that night the tribe would have feasted on dragon meat.

When we entered the hall, cheers welcomed us, instead of the usual solemn silence. This was a rare occurrence, even for the killing of a prey for a last infusion. Most people, after all, settled for preys like yetis, manticores, giant snakes, or the odd goblin chieftain that had made camp too close to the feet of the mountain. A few pushed themselves further and sometimes a group would return with an ice troll, or a cyclops, but to hunt a beast as strong as a dragon when one had yet to go through their last infusion was seen as practically suicidal by most. Still, someone, every few years, would manage such a feat, like the chief and his mates had with a storm giant, or my mother had with a roc. When that happened, rarely the crowd could contain its enthusiasm.

We walked through the hall accompanied by the cheers up to the platform of the chief. When we finally reached it, he made everyone quiet down with a motion of his hand before addressing us, "I congratulate you, Tasha Ivankado, Anya Irinado, Ivan Lidiyasy, Andrei Nikasy, on your successful hunt. You have proved your worth to the tribe, and the blood of your own prey will serve to bring you to adulthood."

He took the usual bowl, now filled with dragon blood and walked in front of us, smearing our foreheads with the blood as he went. He then took the bowl of ash and sprinkled it over the blood.

When all of us had a well breaded forehead, he closed his eyes, standing between us and the table on his platform, and recited the words of the rite. Unlike the other times, there was no pain accompanying the ceremony, instead power frigid like the breath of the dragon entered my body and coursed through my veins.

There was no passing out this time around, instead, we joined the rest of the tribe to the feast of dragon meat, while the blood and ash on our foreheads slowly disappeared, as if it was being absorbed by our bodies.