The woman lived alone in a forest hut.
She turned the page of her book in the early afternoon light.
Her name was Hilda.
It happened one day when Hilda was washing her clothes in the river that flowed through the forest. The water was so clear you could see right to the bottom. As she cleaned them, she fantasized about what she would read that evening. Not so long ago, books had been expensive and out of the reach of commoners, but they were coming down in price thanks to the development of the letterpress. Thinking about books made the time fly by. They were Hilda’s only friends.
Hilda happened to look down at her hands and noticed the water was cloudy. It wasn’t because she was sweeping up sand from the riverbed or because her clothes were just that soiled.
The debris was a faint, murky silver.
She looked up and saw a mercury-like liquid flowing toward her.
That made her curious. Packing her laundry into her woven basket, Hilda walked upstream.
She came upon a thicket by the shore. The liquid seemed to be coming from there.
When Hilda peered into the thicket, she let out a little shriek.
There was a creature collapsed in the brush—and not just any creature.
A dragon.
The beast made for a pitiful sight and was wounded all over. Its scales had been peeled off its body, and one of its wings had been torn off at the base. One of its eyes was clouded. The dragon’s silver blood had spilled from its cuts and into the river, flowing to the spot where Hilda had been doing her laundry. That explained the murkiness she had seen.
With the terrifying creature right in front of her, Hilda nearly fled.
But…
“What awful wounds…”
Despite her fear, she decided to approach the dragon. It was half-submerged in the river, but she managed to pull herself up to get a better look at the wounds covering its body.
When she picked up the dragon’s head, its eyes cracked open. Then it glared at Hilda with those dark eyes and said in a low voice, <Woman…don’t you touch me with your filthy hands.>
The dragon’s voice was no voice at all. She heard it not with her ears but in her mind. This was called the True Language. But the dragon’s voice was hoarse, sounding as though his throat had been crushed. It was difficult for Hilda to make out what he was saying. In fact, he did have old scars on his neck that looked like burns.
The dragon twisted around, trying to escape Hilda’s grasp. But he seemed nearly out of strength, for he couldn’t even break out of a frail girl’s arms.
Hilda said to the dragon in human tongue, “Don’t struggle. You’ll aggravate your wounds…”
The dragon stopped moving. But it wasn’t because he was doing as Hilda said. He just happened to lose consciousness again.
Hilda deliberated over what to do. The best thing would be to take the dragon back home, treat him, and let him rest. But she wasn’t strong enough to move such a large creature that far. While the dragon was lean, he was nearly eight meters long. She wouldn’t even be able to drag him for very long.
Leaving the dragon behind for the moment, she headed back. Racing along the forest path, she hurried back to her hut. She was panting and dripping with sweat. She’d left her laundry by the riverside.
What Hilda called home was a dingy wooden hut. It was so crude and rickety that it looked as if a strong wind might blow it over. Nevertheless, it was one of Hilda’s few assets.
And now, she was about to use the most expensive asset that she owned.
She probed around the ashes of her hearth. She had hidden a little bottle there. Inside the vial was a single drop of gold liquid.
Holding it with great care, Hilda returned to the thicket by the river.
She once again took the head of the fallen dragon into her arms. But the creature didn’t open his eyes like before. He no longer had any strength.
She opened the little bottle and let the single remaining drop of fluid fall into the dragon’s great mouth.
This golden fluid was called the Miracle of Life.
It was a wonder drug that could eradicate all wounds and illnesses. But the formula had been lost a century ago, and there was hardly any left in this kingdom. Even a single drop could be bartered for a high price. Hilda had been holding on to it for a rainy day, but just now, she had used it without hesitation.
The Miracle went to work in an instant, and the dragon’s wounds began to heal before her eyes. This would certainly save his life for the time being.
But it couldn’t fix all the dragon’s injuries. A single drop wasn’t enough to fully reverse the damage he had suffered. The drug couldn’t heal old wounds, either. And the dragon had plenty of those; raised scars ran in every direction all over his body.
Hilda continued to hold the dragon, cradling his head in her arms. The slumbering creature occasionally made noises, as if he were having nightmares.
She stroked the dragon’s head, praying the gesture would make his dreams a little sweeter, at least.
Before long, the dragon opened his eyes. The moment he noticed Hilda’s arms around his head, he thrashed and shoved her away. Hilda landed on her bottom in the river’s shallows, causing water to splash around her.
A large shadow fell over Hilda. The dragon’s great maw loomed before her. She felt like he might devour her.
But despite her fear, Hilda soothed the dragon. “It’s all right. I’m not your enemy. Don’t be afraid.”
The dragon wasn’t listening. His eyes were burning with the flames of hostility. He opened his mouth wide and made to crunch Hilda’s head.
But the dragon’s jaws did not clamp down on her.
Suddenly, he moaned and hung his head. It appeared his old injuries were acting up.
Nevertheless, the dragon exerted himself to try to kill Hilda. But the exertion aggravated his wounds, making silver blood ooze out of them. Moreover, it appeared he still couldn’t move as he wanted.
Hilda saw the trickles of blood and panicked. She cried, “Don’t flail around! I don’t have any more of the Miracle…”
<The Miracle…?> The dragon’s eyes widened in shock, and he backed down. Perhaps he understood she’d parted with the medicine to save his life.