Two beams of light probed the rocky darkness, and darted about in survey of the cavern, to ascertain dimensions and the path further into the depths. They frequently flickered since their source frequently blinked. It was the dust in the stale air, whenever it blew onto his eyes, it provoked his spell of invulnerability to work against the fine, sharp particles. It was less an inconvenience than had his eyes been fully susceptible to foreign irritant. He continued forward, slinking through narrow squeezes along the way. He loved this illuminated sight not only for practicality, but also the fact the phenomenon entertained him.

He would have liked to call the expedition a routine engagement with quarry, but this particular hunt was unique. Supposedly the beast slithered rather than walked, and it preferred an equally coiling network of cavern as its abode. As much as this hunter would have liked to force his way into the lair, he could not afford a collapse of the interior. This was an operation of delicate precision. He felt a crunch beneath his boot. He was close to the lair already. He studied the broken bone. It was not only bleached, but eroded in a smooth manner. Several other bones were strewn ahead. He had been in the cave so long that he lost sense of good air. His nostrils could not distinguish this hole as the beast's place of defecation. As far as he was concerned, he breathed a world of shit ever since he had entered the fissure.

Finally he heard breath. His hands clenched with anticipation. All that remained was to actually see the beast. He had no worry of disposing of the bastard. Before he knew it, his snout dug into porous rock. Up was down, front was back, everything looked the same. That monster tripped him! He kicked as he scooted back, but the fiend already began to ensare him. It was easily wider than him; a man of his size could not present any bulge in its belly. Perhaps bare hands were not the ideal weapon against this foe. His right fingers curled, and he rushed this hand into the hide. His hand practically struck him from the rebound. This dashed any doubts about what he dealt with. This was indeed a dragon. His fiendish smile reflected his delight of challenge.

There rose a feeling in the back of his mind. The sensation was a drug, irresistable to the mind. His thoughts grasped the temptation, and his body accepted his desire. A current of heat emitted from him, but he contained his energy. The air was too old here, and he certainly needed it on his way out. He again curled his fingers, but this time they carried a hotness. Again he dug, but there was no repelling force. He sensed the dragon's aura, and within seconds he solved its riddle. The hides offered no defense. A great shriek sounded as he felt the warm flesh inside. Angered, the beast used its bulk to slam him against rock. It let go, but he suffered the drop of several cobbles on his head. He had no protection against being crushed. He sought the creature in the darkness, aware it would attempt a more intelligent attack.

That face! It was too familiar with the muzzle, nostrils, crest, horns, and even the whiskers! He knew this face well. Seeing his own face on the monster was enough to send chills down his spine. Those eyes were different, much too menacing. Still, the coincidence was downright haunting. He objected to the perverted mockery enough to focus on killing the dragon in one swift blow. In that split-second he guessed the depth of that particular space. He had to throttle his energy, lest he dig himself into rock with no escape. The heat welled up within him. The fiend cocked its head back at the moment he overdid the charge. He hesitated, and let the power slip. That was the right amount, he realized. It lunged forth, and the entire cavern was radiant from his counter. He desperately clung to the wall to avoid the eruption of blood. His work was finished. The hard part was leaving this hole in the land.

His clothes were soaked. He could shit himself in that cave, it made no difference. He groaned as the geyser finished. He needed evidence, but that head creeped him out. The carcass was too immense to lug through the narrow gaps. Something caused his step to slide. It was a fragment of blade, a partially digested memorabilia of a failed hero. He needed the hilt, however. He scrounged the filth for any indicator of his journey there. Bones weren't enough. He could not stand the thought of carrying a twin of his head. There was no telling how the townsfolk would react upon seeing the monster's head as identical to his own. He sat on the rock in frustration. That empty eye glared at him, begging him to pick up the trophy. He shuddered when he held it. The jaw suddenly fell off, which startled him, but it had not completely severed. In its life it ate like a snake, and the sinews relaxed enough to let it open wide. He was going to have the head alright, but he was not willing to show it off in its entire glory.

His fingers tore into the bone. His strength and aura allowed him to scoop away the upper portion of the face. It would be a facial deathblow to them. He pulled the tongue out and snapped off several horns. The jaw was the final piece to hit the cutting room floor. This head would no longer smile at him. He stood up too fast. He rubbed that part of his back which had acted up lately. He was not sure how long it gave him trouble, but it annoyed him to stay off his feet too frequently for his tastes. The dust made him sneeze, the sort of sneeze that cracked his back. It felt good enough he chuckled, and he finally made his exit.

He had his eyes shut for while outside. The fresh air was heaven. With his eyes finally adjusted, the dragon contemplated his next course of action. There was no way he would walk into town covered in blood. He tore away the clothes. It was not the first time he walked an adventure completely naked. The sunlight already began to dry the fluid on his skin, so he needed some sort of bath. With head in hand, he made his way across the field. A lonely road far ahead led to town. The opposite direction passed by a laborer's cottage, which he remembered from the morning. The trip was a good afternoon for any man, but for a dragon of his calibre, he decided to make the trip no longer than his foray in the cave. The air was generous to his aura, but he moderated his heat. He could not afford to burn the head. The fibers in his muscle twitched in preparation for his burst forward. His dash made the trees, grass, and distant scenery a blur. His eyes too a moment to accept the speed, and he cruised comfortably.

The cottage probably had five residents. A wife hung clothes on the line, but she was one of those old wives that disgusted him. He dropped the head by a bush, and made his approach. He waited until she was inside. This was convenient, he thought, since he originally planned to mug the fellow inside for clothes. He had to be humanly quick in picking attire. Some of the garb was too big in girth. He took trousers, probably that of the husband inside, and gave up on anything more. He sped back to the head, and carried both items down a hill and further. A pond sat beyond another hill, and it was sufficient for a quick rinse. He looked eastward, where a mountain range spanned the horizon. His town was at the foothills, and he wondered about his evening there.