Fake

I watched the Dragon and his Rider ascend every morning as they set off on missions, having untold and unseen adventures together. Bards began singing their tales in the tavern at night where the whole village would gather after their return every evening though the truth of their adventures was secret.

I went both because it was an outward symbol that I was all better and a participant in the village; a lie, and also because I wanted to gaze upon the Dragon to memorize his every scale; the truth.

The longer I watched his interaction with his Rider and the more casual his interactions with me, the lower the burning flame I held inside for him dimmed. My heart turned stony.

Only in my dreams, in that place between asleep and awake, could I truly be free. I could do whatever I wanted, feel however I wanted, and act however I wanted. There, I told the Dragon my feelings and he reciprocated in the way I wanted him to.

When I woke, I wasn't a Rider. I was a trainer, villager, and friend.

I longed for dreams.