"When you threw it away, you cried. Why?"

"I..." Monica blinked. "You're a dragon," she said randomly. "A DRAGON!"

A film slid over the dragon's golden eyes, then disappeared. "You spent so many days, sitting beside my home, writing. You seemed happy. Then you throw it away? Why?"

Monica felt tears welling up again. What could this beast know of her pain? The weirdness of the moment was overwhelming. She was standing and talking, rather unlucidly, to a dragon. A creature she did not even believe existed! And it was asking her why she did something! Her legs gave out and she sat down abruptly. "I was crying because my dreams died," she said quietly. "I suppose you're here to finish me off as well."

The dragon looked at her. Its eyes were terrible and alluring at the same time. Colors swirled within those eyes, oranges and reds and deep, deep golds. The pupils cut like a slashing wound through them, a velvety black, curving wound. Monica wondered absently if she was going crazy.

"Your dreams...died," the dragon said. There was an uncomfortable emphasis on the word died. Monica knew she should flee, but she could not.

Its claw appeared over the rim of the chasm, and it pulled itself further up. That menacing head snaked closer to her. "Why did they die? What killed them?"

"Listen." Monica got a grip on herself and her attitude, and she slid backwards, mussing her skirts terribly. "I don't know who you are or why you're asking me this, but you are a dragon, and princesses like me don't talk to your ilk."

"Princess?" the dragon said, and she realized she had just made a terrible mistake. Dragons loved eating princesses. They were far more tender than the average maiden. She continued her backwards sliding in trepidation.

The dragon had quite the thoughtful expression on its face. "What killed the dreams of a princess?"

"Why do you keep harping on that? You just want to eat me, don't you?" She had retreated to the edge of the clearing, and felt safe enough to sass a massive, reptilian terror of old.

"I have lain here many, many years," the dragon said, its voice so low and raspy that it sounded like a snarl, "and you would come and read out your story occasionally. I liked to listen to you read it. I enjoyed it, and you seemed to as well. Then you came and threw it away. Crying." It rose up further over the edge, its back claws coming into view. "I want to know why."

Monica glared at it. "Stop coming closer. I don't trust you."

"We are having a conversation, are we not? You keep backing away. I have to come forward."

They stared at one another. Monica slowly turned her foot so she could whirl and run away into the woods before it got her.

"I am not going to eat you," the dragon assured her. It sighed, and a heated breath washed over her face and arms. "I have not eaten any of you little things."

"Really?" Monica said interestedly. This was far better than it badgering her about her story. "I knew all the stories about dr- you and your kind were over-hyped."

The dragon said nothing. To her admittedly inexperienced eyes, it looked...sad. The corners of its jagged mouth were more deeply sunk down, and its great, scaly brows were low over its eyes. "You have not yet told me why," it said finally.

Monica sighed too. "I'm not overly given to having heart-to-heart talks with scaly monsters."