By Arlan Gerig
When I was a young girl, my grandfather would often wrap my little hands in his gnarled ones and a fierce twinkle would enter his eyes. “Amelia,” he would say. “I quit racing dragons many years ago after nasty Rangle McHoughy beat me. Don’t give up like I did.”
At fifteen, my determination to beat a McHoughy grew strong. I went daily in the early morning hours to train with Snoozer, my pink dragon with quick reflexes and twisted curiosity. I yearned to enter the annual race that came after the snows melted and Northrop Mountain warmed in the longer days.
When I turned eighteen, I met the age requirement for the Northrop Mountain Dragon Race. I almost dropped the entrance papers when Matt McHoughy’s name topped the list.
On the frosty morning of the race, I blew on my frozen fingers, reciting the rules from memory with the announcer. “Race to the top of Northrop Mountain and be the first to strike the Golden Gong. No roasting competitors and no flying. Referees fly dragons to monitor the race and identify any disqualified participants.”
I gulped when I saw Matt next to me at the starting gate. His sleek, black dragon hissed at us, which my sleeping Snoozer totally missed.
Matt snorted. “Dreaming his way up the mountain doesn’t count, you know.”
Holding in my anger, I patted Snoozer’s pink scales, waiting for the right moment to impress.
The starting horn blew. Dragons leaped forward, crashing into each other as they jockeyed for first place. Snoozer still slept.
After the dust settled, I smirked and shook the reins. “Okay, Snoozer. Now!”
He leapt awake, shook his massive head, and tore down the path. Snoozer passed a brown dragon by nudging it into a nearby brook. He nipped a green dragon’s tail, which whimpered and flipped onto its back, and passed a purple dragon by tripping it. I snickered and waved.
The ground grew steeper and rockier. The broad road shortened into a two-dragon wide path with a sharp drop-off. As we climbed, several dragons lost their footing and flew to safety. Referees blared out each disqualified person.
The group had thinned, but I’d lost sight of Matt. We rounded a tight turn leading into a canyon pass. As it narrowed, a maroon dragon much larger than Snoozer scraped its wings on each side.
“Snoozer, bite!”
He chomped on the dragon’s tail, and it bellowed. Wedged in, it tried to turn and bite back, completely clogging the pass. It remained stuck. Careful to stay away from its flaming mouth, Snoozer flapped his wings to gain footing, He climbed up the rocky face, around the stuck dragon, and jumped in front of it. The ref overhead motioned for us to continue.
The rider, a classmate named Henricks, shook his fist. “I hate you, Amelia!”
I smirked and focused on the black dragon holding Matt McHoughy not more than fifteen dragon lengths ahead.
The rocky canyon widened briefly. Digging my heels into Snoozer’s side, he lunged toward Matt. My hands tensed on Snoozer’s reins, anticipating victory.
“Faster!” I yelled.
Snoozer galloped closer to the black dragon.
Matt turned and frowned. “I’ll win and reclaim the McHoughy honor, Amelia!”
Flames snorted from Snoozer’s nostrils, and I patted his neck. “Careful, buddy. Don’t disqualify us.”
The pass closed in, becoming steeper and tighter. Snoozer’s claws grasped the rocky path as the canyon narrowed to a one-dragon road. A referee closely watched above the pass. “You’re first and second positions,” she bellowed.
Snoozer nipped the black dragon’s tail, and it growled.
“Careful, Beater,” Matt said.
“Beater?” I scoffed. “As in broken down, cheap dragon? Or wife-beater? Figures a McHoughy can’t pick a better name than—”
“It’s Beat Her, as in winning against Amelia McCaffrey.” His eyes narrowed. “Remember that when you lose.”
Rumbling drew our eyes to rocks tumbling from the canyon’s peak, loosened in the Spring thaw. Beat Her and Snoozer yelped as gravel and larger stones hit them. I reined Snoozer back to avoid the largest shower of rocks. The avalanche buried Matt and his dragon within moments.
The referee yelled overhead. “The race continues. I’ll call for emergency help, Matt McHoughy.”
My chance at last! Snoozer leaped forward, climbing the mound of fallen rock, using his claws to gain purchase between the canyon walls. I heard a groan and my stomach lurched. I grabbed Snoozer’s reins and pulled him back. Enemy or not, that wasn’t how I wanted to win.
“Can you hear me, Matt? Can you get your hand through?”
An arm pushed aside some rocks. My fists relaxed and I scrambled off Snoozer. I clamored up the pile, shoving away rubble until Matt’s head emerged.
“Thanks, Amelia,” he rasped.
Beat Her whimpered under the rocks. Snoozer crept forward, using his claws to uncover the dragon while I helped Matt.
“How’re you doing?” I asked. “Anything broken?”
He grimaced. “Well, my chances of winning are smashed. Go ahead. You’ve beaten me.”
I shook my head and thrust aside a large rock. “No. We’ve been enemies too long, ever since your grandfather beat mine in that dragon race years ago.”
“My grandfather?” Matt’s eyes widened. “He always said your grandfather won.”
My face scrunched in confusion. “Are you sure? He was eliminated for flying, convinced Rangle won, and quit racing.”
“Mine too! They never talked again. They must’ve been so envious that they couldn’t believe anyone else won.”
The maroon dragon used his claws to scale the rocky avalanche and jumped over us. “So long, losers,” Hendricks yelled over his shoulder. “I can’t believe I’m beating a McHoughy and a McCaffrey, just like my grandfather did many years ago. What a day!”
My cheeks reddened. I hated to lose, but I’d made up my mind. “Can I accompany you to see the doctor? To make sure you’re okay.”
Matt wiped dirt from his face. “Sure. Then let’s celebrate losing with dragon fruit ice cream.”
I grinned. “There’s always next Spring.”
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This was so much fun to read!
A wonderful story of good character and friendship
Thanks for reading, Pam! Good character is important, even to our enemies!
I’m glad you enjoyed it, Jen! Writing this one was a lot of fun!
good sportsmanship always wins! (and is that a reference to Anne McCaffrey?
I agree with you! Coming in first doesn’t always equal winning where it counts. And yes, since Anne McCaffrey wrote many books about dragons, it only seemed appropriate to include her name. Thanks for reading, Laurie!
Dragons racing on foot instead of flying was a fun surprise! I love that Amelia decided that being kind was more important than winning.
I’m glad you liked it! I thought that running, climbing, clawing dragon racing sounded more competitive than just flying. After I finished the story, I discovered it seemed very similar to the parable of the good Samaritan. Thanks for reading!
I loved the story. So full of hope that in the end, winning or losing is not nearly as important as , so they say” how we play the game”. Relationships are much more important than being right or winning. Thank you, Arlan for taking us on a fantastic, fantasy of a journey and allowing us to race with you. Very enjoyable.
Thank you, Kim! I’m glad you enjoyed it! I’m reminded of Jesus’ words to “love your enemies.” It was a fun story to write!
A dragon race! How wonderful!
Thank you, Morgan! I’m glad you liked it!
Arlan, what a fun story! I love Amelia’s strength of character. She stopped to help rather than win and patched up an old feud in the process. Relationships and people are always more important. Well written story! And well done, Amelia. There’s always next Spring☺️
Thanks, Deborah! I’m glad you liked it! I had fun portraying her as a competitive girl but still having compassion.
Enemies to friends. Cute reconciliation!
Thanks, Rachel! If only it always worked out this way!