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THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE Page 3 This dragon was even larger than the first one, all gold in the morning sunrise with red glints where the scales of his back gleamed against the sun. His wings spread tremendously as he strode forward to attack Ed.
![]() "Wait," cried Ed, "I don't even know your name!" "Brin," roared the dragon, huffing his chest and raising both wings in a great double-arch, ready to leap. "I don't want to hurt you, any more than I wanted to hurt Asaph. Why must we fight?" asked Ed. "Ha! everyone knows that," snorted Brin. "It is The Way!" and leaped forward to try to land on Ed. Ed ducked aside and Brin crashed down where Ed had been standing. Ed's sword cut deeply into Brin's wing and the fight was on. This battle went on even longer under the hot sun, sweat running into Ed's eyes. His sword arm became so weary he felt like it was on fire. The dust swirled up from Brin's lunges and at times Ed felt like he was choking, but he knew his people back home would die if he didn't bring back the Stone and that he had to win. Finally, late in the afternoon, he did win. What a sad crumpled heap Brin was now, more like a pile of old rags than anything that had once been the living flame of a great dragon. Brin no longer was furious and great and terrifying, he was just a heap of old garbage. Even as Ed looked on, trying to catch his breath after the fight, the last iridescence of the scales, highlighted by the setting sun, crumpled, withered and disappeared into grayish blackness. All too soon it was dawn again, and already Ed was in view of the third great dragon. |
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