He had come off the mountains sliding. So depressed and sadden by his fate, and loneliness he couldn't even fly. A couple of hunters had thought to try and kill the dragon, but when he was very close to them and seemingly unaware of their presence they filled with fear, and trembled recollecting the stories told about his ferocity. But the maiden, the white woman was sad too. She loved the dragon and who the dragon was, and night after night dreamt about the times before times before in his embrace. His juices made tracks between her thighs on many a night as they lay in each other's arms exhausted, but happy to be able to cuddle and make love. It was a dream, or was it?
Being in the spell of each other's aura dulled his vigilance, and one mean nasty woman caught the two together, and slay the body of the man, and preserved his seed in a crystal vase she used to create the dragon. Night after night the spell took shape, and it became apparent the man had not died. He had changed his body into the form of his power animal to frighten the Old Woman and caught between fright, and anger she seized him while vulnerable between the couple's orgasms.
It is a sad story, but the undoing of all of this lies not in killing the Old Woman, but in understanding who they are together: the young woman, and the Warrior-Priest she loves. - Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories
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