You know it's there.
You can feel its fiery breath on your back.
You squeeze your sweating hands firmly into fists but the shaking doesn't cease.
You know deep in your gut it's preparing to attack.
The rage in its blood never subsides.
You can imagine the beast behind you.
That classic gleam of madness in its eye.
That expression of hunger and dauntless monstrosity.
Its hair standing on end from playful recklessness.
The red scales shimmering in the moon's light as it crouches in the shadows dark as sleeping eyes.
Any moment now it will, all at once, screech and unleash its vicious claws and temper with one giant leap.
His kind have a mind hot and quick and furious as fire.
They're all the same and their violence has no end.
There's nothing you can do.
No escape.
No defense.
No rescue.
All you can do is stand there.
You hear growling and snarling deeper than the sea, louder than cannons.
You stand with your back to it.
Breathless. Helpless.
Sweating. Shaking.
Suspense can be worse than catastrophe.
Waiting can be worse than disaster.
You know you have to face this.
You turn around.
The clash of vibrant swords.
The shouts of battle and conquer and strife.
The sight of familiar faces.
The hum of the winds of changing the way you see the fight.
You swallow.
You stare your foe in the bloodcurdling face.
You stand your ground because although you're unarmed, this battle isn't over yet.
You may be a lot of things but alone will never be one of them.
