Dragon’s Roost
Writer’s Prompt:
“Don’t you go lookin'”. The tavernkeeper had said. She’d eyed him doubtfully and slid her hand off the counter leaving behind a golden shilling. Her pint was the merest fraction of its worth. “You won’t find em ’round here. They prefer solitude in the old high places.”
“The old high places?”
“To the North — but you’ll never be able to keep to the old trails. They’re all overgrown.” He looked as if he might actually care. “Only the stone stairs remain on some of the steeper passes. If you keep your eyes open for them, well, it’s your best hope.”
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