I shouldn’t have been surprised. I mean, what were the chances of me being the only hill dragon around here? There had been dragons back in the fairy prison. The freaks must’ve gotten them from around here, right?

But this one….this one was huge!

It was twice the size of my grandaddy’s three-story house on a ranch. An elephant could fit snugly on its back, too! And the scales…The rich violet scales shimmered in the sun, catching the light in just the right spots. I could stare at them all-day and―

It was looking at me.

Its neck was stretched around so it could point those baleful yellow eyes on me. I swear they stared into my soul.

No, no, it wasn’t looking at me. But it could smell me. I saw those nostrils twitching every so often as it gazed in my general direction.

Its eyes roamed the grass where I lay hidden, frozen like a deer in headlights. I mentally kept my guns hidden and out of sight. They were good against Acid Cattle but dragons? No, I wasn’t gonna push my luck.

After five nerve-wracking seconds, the beast snorted and moved on. The sound of crunching bones and slurping continued for several more minutes before there was a rush of wind. I looked up and saw the dragon flying off into the distance.

My Shottys rose as one up out of the grass and pointed their barrels at me expectantly.

I rose into a tense crouch. “Okay, well, if you knew anything about dragons, you’d be just as scared as I was. I just...I need more spells, okay? And I need to find some grub and get back to that hill or whatever it was that was pullin’ at me.”

With a resigned sigh, I kept walking, this time paying closer attention to my surroundings so I wasn’t caught off-guard by another surprise meet-and-greet with a dragon.

“Well, here it is. This is the hill that was calling me.”

It was smaller than what I was used to walking around but there was something here that wanted me, so here I was.

“Now, how am I gon’ get up there? This hill and my stamina just don’t hold water…”

I plopped onto my behind and craned my neck upward to stare up at the sky. I couldn’t stop thinking about the dragon I saw earlier and the graceful way it flew. It was beautiful…

“It sure would be mighty nice to have my own pair of wings…”

If you manage to survive for longer than a week this time, you’ll manage it someday. In the meantime, why don’t you make some actually useful spells? Ｏ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

I suwanne! This thing was getting on my last nerve!

Cool it, Daphne. It’s right, isn’t it? You need more spells. I bet I could make one that could help with my stamina...Why don’t I make another chicken? No, that’ll take too long. I need something I could carry up the hill with me. Like a bottle of bourbon.

I imagined my favorite bottle of Jim Beam bourbon; the liquor would spike my adrenaline and get me more focused, up to push on through anything.

A new spell! Finally. You might just make it out alive this time. (▰˘v˘▰)

You’ve created the spell [Rune: Hill Bourbon]

Another alcoholic drink? You might have a bit of a problem, Mupin… (ó﹏ò｡)

I didn’t waste any words cursing this stupid thing and reached to pick up the bottle. My opposable thumb-less paw knocked it over, spilling half of its contents on the ground before I frantically managed to get it standing back upright.

“Crud. I can’t hold this. Can you-oh, wait, y’all are shotguns...Okay, um...I guess Imma need a new spell already…”

I considered helping hands but grimaced at the thought. No, I wasn’t ready to have them back yet. Maybe...something like a cup holder? It would have to be able to hover around me like Shotty and tilt when I needed a sip. It needed to expand or shrink depending on the size of the bottle or glass I was gonna put in it. There was also the matter of how the bottles would get into the holder…

Well, it’d just have a robot arm thingy come out of a compartment and put it in. There was no limit to my imagination, right?

The system named the spell [Rune: Floating Cup Holder]. I thought it was a fitting name. I ordered the thing to pick up the bottle and took a well-needed sip.

I’d buried the craziness of all that had happened to me down in the darkest crevices of my mind. I didn’t wanna think about all this...stuff. It was how I kept going without breaking down. If I let myself stop for a moment, I’d end up like my daddy: wound tighter like a clock and only a second away from clobbering you over the head with the baseball bat he kept by his side at all times.

Shaking my head, I started up the hill. I had no more time to lolly-gag. Whatever was waiting for me up there was gonna be claimed soon enough.

Dukgraeg Battlegrip tugged on his too-short beard as he watched the dragon babe approach his clan hill.

He didn’t like that it was green. The green ones were always the worst.

It was bad enough they’d had to let the purple one go, spreading those terrible flowers everywhere around the valley. But the Head Maid said she wouldn’t risk losing any more kin to the beast, that they should let it be.

“It keeps the humans away,” she’d added. “They fear dragons, don’t they? As long as they don’t get too bold, we’ll be safe.”

He hated the Head Maid. She wasn’t a proper dwarf. She didn’t speak like a dwarf, didn’t dress like a dwarf, didn’t rule like a dwarf. It was only a matter of time before she managed to convince the Old Beards that living on the surface would be better than the hill.

Why was he the only one who saw through her madness? She should’ve been executed as soon as she gave the order for all men to keep their beards trimmed to what she called a ‘proper length’. No one would dare trim a grown man’s beard! It was a source of all their pride! It told of their history, their struggle to reach adulthood-

Although with all the sanitary acts being passed, there wasn’t much of a struggle anymore. They were raising weaklings. Soon enough, it wouldn’t be the survival of the fittest and the hills would be cluttered with more doofuses like the Head Maid.

One of them came running up to him now, clad in the mandatory guard uniform with its stupid hat and stupid tassel and stupid-

“Mr. Battlegrip!” the spotter’s high pitched voice snapped him out of his reverie. “There’s a dragon crossing the fifty-meter mark! How shall we proceed, sir?”

“Keep an eye on it, lass,” he muttered, tugging at his beard. “Let it waddle up over de 'ill. It’ll lan' on a boomer soon enoof, you’ll see.”

The spotter snapped him a salute. “Sir!” She turned to leave but hesitated. “Sir, uh, the Matriarch doesn’t like the men tugging―”

Dukgraeg spun on his heel, the glare in his eye so hot she flinched when it touched her. “Back ter yisser post, spotter! Oi don't nade dat loony lass tellin' me waat Oi can an' canny chucker wi' me own beard!”

“Sir, yes, sir!” The spotter hastily saluted again before scrambling back to her spot on the watchtower. He noticed she took a bit of a detour, no doubt reporting his little outburst to a snitcher.

The old dwarf sighed and turned back to the far-looker. Girls like her didn’t belong in the army. He barely felt her attunement. It was scary how many of these weak casters were getting drafted. They were hardly fit for digging, let alone any of the other duties a woman did. Or used to do, before the imposter came. Lassies were fillin’ up men’s roles left and right due to her.

That was another sign the Head Maid wasn’t quite right. Everyone knew women were more suited to keeping the clan from falling apart―quite literally, too. Their magic was more in tune with the earth; they farmed, built houses, dug new tunnels. They didn’t have fire attunements as the men did, so they didn’t fight or forge as a man did. It was as simple as that.

“We'll be down in de dirt wi' our ancestors by de time 'er rule is up,” he muttered, zooming in on the little beastie. He nearly choked when he saw the number of battle wands surrounding it.

“By my beard…” He spun around and cupped his meaty hands around his mouth. “Luk alive, tren! We've got an aberrant on our 'ands! Unload de cannons!”

A chorus of aye-ayes met his back as he was already bumbling toward his gauntlets hooked against the wall. He hadn’t fought an aberrant in years!

The last one had been a ten-keg long Wind Boar that could call up fifteen twisters like it was nothing! The mana he’d gained from that beastie had been intense. The feast after the battle had been even better!

He grinned as he suited up, already dreaming about the taste of dragon meat. It’d been so long since he’d had a steak made from some. The beast wasn’t very big, but he’d be sure to get his piece. By tradition, all he needed to do was land the last hit and―

“Wait! Don’t shoot it!”

The Head Maid came running into the tower, her little goons struggling to keep up. Dukgraeg groaned at the sight of her. His men already knew what to do, re-stocking the war hammers back on the walls and rolling the cannons back into their slots.

The pesky beast would get to live another day.