|Capbreton. Photo by Makunin, @ Pixabay|
Brigitte raced across the sand. She desperately refused to slow herself by looking back. The barbaric shouting propelled her forward.
Brigitte had been enjoying the deserted beach, unhurriedly checking on her catch, when the foreigners had arrived. It was a small boat, though she had seen bigger sails on the horizon. The men took one look at her and lunged.
Despite herself, Brigitte glanced back and stumbled. Her hands dug into the wet sand, pushing her forward even as her skirt tangled in her legs. She had to make it to the ruins! Something eerie about them always fended people off, but Brigitte wouldn’t be cowed today. Hopefully her pursuers would.
The quiet command brought her up short. She was almost to the ruins, and no one else was in sight. Maybe this was nothing but a nightmare?
The lewd cheers behind her claimed otherwise.
She pressed on, skidding to a halt when two glowing, green-and-gold orbs appeared in the ruins. Making a frantic decision, she dove into a darkened alcove, inches from the orbs.
Warm breath brushed her shoulder moments before wings launched into the sky. Fire blocked her assailants. Brigitte’s breath caught at the magnificently unreal sight.
The dragon’s head swiveled toward her. You’re safe.