A daring warrior and a misplaced dragon

Spikes sprung out of his armour, glistening in the morning sun they reflected it’s gaze, creating daggers of light, blinding many of his foes. Each razor edge represented a battle he had fought and won, forged and gifted by his tribe. Traipsing for days he was finally at the bottom of the mountain, he would prove his worth by slaying whatever beast lived in such a hovel of a cave. Lifting his golden edged sword from its sheath, he let out a mighty roar running towards the dark abyss.

“Excuse me?” Spoke a tiny voice, tilted, it sounded almost like a hum. Surveying the entrance of the cave the warrior saw nothing, so, he took another step –

“EXCUSE ME?” Yelled the tiny voice again. The warrior was baffled, where on earth was this voice coming from?

“Would you mind looking down?” Agreeing, the soldier saw a tiny brown dragon situated at his feet. It stood, at best, to his knees, and it’s keen knowing eyes bored into his own.

“Can I help you?” It asked. Perplexed, the warrior answered honestly.

“I am here to slay whatever large, challenging beast lives in this cave.”

“I live in this cave.” Crap, the soldier thought. Avoiding eye contact he began to walk back, towards the forest.

“I apologise.”

“I should think so,” the dragon chided, “not every cave holds evil monsters needing to be slaughtered, in fact, many are home to intelligent vegetarians like myself.”

Spike

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