It only needed to hit once.
CLANK, CLANK, CLANK.
The dragon had seen them as easy pickings, she supposed. A divorced blacksmith, living atop a desolate mountain with only her son to keep her company.
CLANK, CLANK, CLANK.
But it didn’t matter that she was alone. It didn’t matter that her forge was ‘ordinary’.
It only mattered that her son was in that dragon’s lair, set to be another treasure in its collection, or worse.
CLANK.
She brought the hammer up to the light. It was fragile, light as a blade of grass…
And it only needed to hit once.
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