Johnny wasn’t a revered knight, he wasn’t a known protector or dragon slayer. He mostly tended to the stables, cleaning them, and pampering the horses.

He pat the horse’s mane when he heard a crackle burst through the quiet air, the night sky illuminated with sparks of red and yellow.

The ground cracked open, momentary tremors, yet, he felt no fear.

Then from the bushes, you came out, your horns, large scaly wings, your tail swishing the burnt ash around you.

“Yer gorgeous,” he whispered.