A faint smile found its way onto the features of a boy, most likely no older than nineteen years of age. His hair was black, quite possibly the darkest shade of black anyone in his village had ever seen; his eyes resembled his hair in color but shone bright with the hope of a new tomorrow; his body was well built, so much so that many others in the village envied him. He was, however, probably the sweetest thing to walk the earth, personality wise, and for that many mocked him. He was good looking, he was kind, he was insecure, he was Tao; a poor boy that lived with his grandmother along the edge of the village.

Tao worked as an assistant to the blacksmith and occasionally helped the fishermen with their bait. All those he worked for had nothing but good things to say about him; he worked hard, he always got the job done, he always did his best, and so on and so forth. They always noticed how he’d smile whenever he felt like he earned a “job well done”. Or how his eyes would shine whenever he’d bring that hammer down to strike searing hot metal, molding it into whatever he wished it to be. How he’d pay no mind to the sparks that danced around him with every blow, or to how the heat colored his cheeks, or how smudge would stain his fingers, or even when that small cough would escape his plump lips when he dipped the metal in ice cold water and a thin cloud of smoke rose about him.

Tao was currently walking through the forest, a ways away from his home. He had been requested by the blacksmith to venture there in search of a particular herb for a project he was working on. Tao had no problems with accepting, he never did. Well, not after the first time. The first time he was asked to venture into the forest, he was merely seven years of age and adamantly refused, completely terrified of what he might encounter. Then, he only yielded when his grandmother offered to go with him. Tao felt awful for making her go with him, but he was reassured when the woman constantly insisted that he had nothing to fret over. By the end of that night, Tao was happily smiling up at the blacksmith whilst holding up the desired flower. Still, the thing Tao would never forget about that time in the forest with his grandmother, was when she sat him on her knee and whispered in his ear a story about a fearsome dragon that resided in a cave not too far from where they were. She told him of how the people lived in constant fear of the beast and, most importantly, she warned that he should never go near the dragon’s cave.

Tao sighed at the memory, his eyes trained on the road ahead of him. He missed those days, to an extent, but now he had responsibilities to attend to. The path he walked was one that he had etched into his memory since that day twelve years ago. Not once had he ever strayed from that path, so he never worried about what may or may not be in the forest anymore. Nothing ever occurred on this path, given that it was so close to the dragon’s cave. Still, Tao didn’t worry about it. The dragon hadn’t terrorized the village in centuries, so why would it do anything now?

‘Just a legend, just a legend,’ he tried to reason with himself by chanting those words multiple times in his head. Truthfully, the legend of the dragon nearly had him too scared to ever venture into the forest again, but he knew that he couldn’t let the tale get to him; he had work that needed to be done, and if there was one thing that Tao couldn’t bear, it was letting someone down. So, Tao swallowed his fear and dragged his unwilling feet into the depths of the forest. The only thing that served to calm his nerves were usually the soft chirping of birds, but today, there were no birds. It was unusually quiet and Tao couldn’t help but ponder it no matter how hard he tried not to. He couldn’t help but note how the sky was shaded an ominous gray and how the clouds rolled about with the wind; a storm was coming. Tao had learned from the fishers of their village how to tell when a storm was approaching, and even though he lacked experience, Tao could tell that it was a big one that was headed his way.

Tao’s once slow, reluctant pace soon turned into a brisk walk, then a jog, going faster and faster. Soon, he was running as fast as he could, eyes darting left and right to try and find shelter. A small squeak left his lips when he felt a cool drop of water hit his cheek, which was followed by many more droplets of rain. It probably took no more than a few seconds for him to be drenched to the bone under the heavily falling rain. His breath escaped him as pants the longer he ran, his legs starting to ache. His wet clothes were dragging him down and he knew he needed to find shelter quick, lest he want to end up with a nasty cold. The rain, however, blurred his vision; several drops of rain clinging to his long lashes. The boy blinked constantly, trying to clear his vision, even if only a little. It hardly helped at all, but Tao was grateful that it at least allowed him to spot one place that would offer him protection from the rain: a cave barely twenty steps away.