The Dragon Who Stole the Ending

How it begins

Elena Moss reached the end of the bridge three times before admitting it had no end. The far bank stayed six paces away, a perfectly ordinary strip of mud beneath a perfectly ordinary willow. She could see a discarded boot. She could count the stones. She could not arrive.

Behind her, Samir Hale tied his ferry to the same post for the fourth time.

'It used to be easier than this,' he said.

'Walking?'

'Everything, apparently.'

Elena unfolded her map. The bridge crossed the river in a firm black line, ending precisely where it should. She marked the place she stood. The pencil continued drawing after she lifted it, pulling a thin line across the margin and onto the sleeve of her coat.

She shook it off. The line curled on the boards like a very small snake.

From the willow came a voice. 'Don't finish it.'

A dragon sat on the opposite bank. It was the color of old copper and wore a strip of white cloth around one horn. Between its claws lay a bundle of knotted threads, each one trailing into the water.

Samir removed his cap. 'Have you done something to my landing?'

'To all landings,' the dragon said.

Downriver, a bell began ringing for the afternoon ferry. It rang once, twice, then held the second note until the sound grew thin and painful. Elena looked toward the town. A woman stood in a doorway with her arms open, waiting for a man who could not complete his last step.

'Those people are trying to come home,' she said.

The dragon closed its claws around the threads. 'Home is not always a place that keeps you.'

Elena remembered the white cloth. The village used it on doors after a death.

She put away her knife before the dragon could see her reaching for it.

'What ending are you trying to save?'