“Let me try to tell you what we know about what’s been going on. I ask that you’ll be patient with us while we try to explain our reasons for your… um… incarceration- for lack of a better word. We chained you because we knew that you’d be angry when you awoke from the sleeping drug we administered and we wanted to have a chance to explain before running the risk of your avenging yourself on us. We chained you as painlessly and as comfortably as our calculations allowed- I do hope we were correct in that respect?”
Tarasque said nothing, but had to admit that she wasn’t particularly comfortable but she wasn’t in pain.
Taking Tarasque’s silence for assent that she was not in any pain, he continued. “My name is Thomas McCollum. My great grandfather was Elliott McCollum. In his journals spanning some 63 years of dragon hunting, he noted your name among many other dragons that he tracked over the years. I have spent nearly 17 years studying his journals, which he left to me when he passed away, and from reading about you I feel as though I know you well enough to call you Tara… hence my faux pas when I started addressing you today.
My Grandfather hunted dragons for most of his life, long before dragons were officially on the brink of extinction. But towards the middle of his life, he was tracking a dragon in Panola, Mississippi- near Sardis Lake- and thought he had almost caught him, when he came face to face with the dragon. Obviously it was the last thing he expected and my grandfather figured he was as good as dead. The dragon my grandfather was trailing was your own grandfather Tarasque, a dragon named Brinsop. It was Brinsop who taught my grandfather all he knew about your kind. And my grandfather wrote everything down. My grandfather and Brinsop spent many hours together everyday over many years, and Brinsop educated him in the ways of the dragons- their lore and laws and history. It was thanks to Brinsop that Elliott changed tack and decided to save the remaining dragons rather than sell their skins and such. He devoted the last forty odd years of his life to preserving dragons and promoting the preservation of the different species.
It was also largely thanks to Brinsop that my grandfather made a fortune from his books on how to study and track dragons because they were popular as gifts- with people assuming they were just very colourful and well detailed fiction and fairy tales. Sadly, most people still believe dragons are a myth. And since none of the dragons my grandfather got into contact with would allow him to photograph them, his books were published with hand drawn illustrations- strengthening the human race’s belief that dragons do not exist.
Before my grandfather met your grandfather, he developed and perfected a pair of binocular lenses that can pick up the residual magic trail that most dragons leave behind- especially in flight. I’ve used these binoculars myself in my search for you Tarasque. I had all but given up hope and thought maybe my grandfather’s invention didn’t work, but a little over two years ago- I finally found a faint trail in the air over Phoenix.
There Is Never An Excuse
One in three is not a statistic - one in three is a crying shame.