The World Through Rose Colored Glasses

My tale is short, as I do not wish to bore you to tears. It is, however, filled with passion and rage, and most importantly, love.

They say that every rose has its thorns. This is particularly true for my Rose, who tends to be gentle on the inside, beneath an exterior of sharpest thorns. The trick to getting to her heart is navigating through the thickets of painful spikes to see her true, golden inside.

I began this difficult journey one summer's night. I found myself traveling through unknown lands, hopelessly lost on the way to visiting an old friend of mine. I needed his counsel on something of great importance. His home, however, was hidden deep within a forest, where there was no discernible path through the wilderness. With the daylight fading fast, I had no choice but to make my way to a spiral of smoke visible atop the trees.

Carefully stepping over low brambles and ensnaring branches, I began to see the dim glow of a merrily cracking fire. The scent of cooking meat and burning wood reached my nose. My stomach growled hungrily, I had not eaten in at least a day, and I hastened toward the lone figure sitting in front of the fire.

As I got closer, I saw the shadowed outlines of wings, closely furled to the back of what appeared to be a woman's body. I hid behind the nearest
tree trunk and felt the rough bark beneath my fingers. Peering through the haze of smoke, I watched the figure rotate a stick in the fire. The blaze crackled merrily as the juices from the cooking meat spattered into the fire.

The figure was humming absentmindedly to a mournful tune, completely unaware of my presence. I couldn't ignore my stomach any longer, so with the air of one about to make a speech, I presented myself.

"I am Gorian," I said. "I have been wandering for days and wondered if you might give me some shelter or food." The figure looked up. Her deep red eyes bored into mine as her black hair fell below her waist. She stopped humming abruptly and stared calculatingly at me. I saw something in her eyes change.

Roaring, a transformation came over the human-like figure. Her body elongated and became scaly. Her wings grew, and her face became unmistakable draconian. The limbs were tipped in sharpened claws, and she lifted into the air.

My mind was filled with fear. It numbed everything else and made it impossible to move. Briefly, I pondered drawing my sword, but was unable to react to the impulse. Instead, I cowered against the nearest tree. If she wanted to kill me, there was absolutely nothing that I could do to stop her. I squeezed my eyes shut and offered up a small prayer to the gods. Then, as suddenly as it had happened, the roaring and the sound of flapping wings died down, and I hesitantly opened my eyes. The woman-like figure had returned to her log, looking as though nothing at all had happened. To the contrary, she was laughing.

Who was this strange woman? She seemed to be a dragoness, or at least fit the description. But the dragonesses were legend, stories handed down from generation to generation. I straightened up, humiliated for my cowering, and walked toward the fire.

"Here," the dragoness said, holding out a piece of meat to me. "I see you are no threat to me."

I stared, then held myself even more erect. "No threat?" I asked, disbelievingly. She was severely underestimating me.

"Yes. You are no threat. You cower like a child."

"Well - I mean -" I was lost for words. It was true, I had cowered. "I didn't catch your name," I said, trying to change the subject.

"Normally, I wouldn't share that vital information," the dragoness began, "But since I do not feel intimidated, my name is Rose. You need not know the rest."

I knew better than to press her. Instead, I took the piece of food that she offered me and began to chew silently on it.