Here is where I will be working on my entry for National Novel Writing Month. I will begin writing on Nov. 1 and will do my best to finish 50,000 words by Nov. 30. My current plan is for another Young Adult novel. Not that Ive finished the other, but maybe a month on a different project will kick me out of the rut I fell in.

Summary: In a world of almost forgotten magic and monsters a girl discovers that the tales are true, and that given the right situation she has one of her own.

Sabrina: main character. Lost her mother at birth. Never knew her father. Raised by her grandmother. May be descended from shape shifters if her grandmother's tales can be believed.

Jasmine: Sabrina's grandmother. Wise woman and story teller. Has great knowledge in medicine as well as the history and lore of the country and her family in particular. Shared as much of her knowledge with Sabrina as she could before her death. Alway maintained that she, and hence Sabrina, were descended from powerful people that would protect them in their time of need.

Gareth: Sabrina's great grandfather. According to Jasmine he was a dragon that could take human form, and was still alive high in the mountains.

Lisbeth: Sabrina's great grandmother. Was supposedly a human that learned to take dragon form. Like Gareth she was supposedly still living high in the mountains.

Jonathan: boy from the village. The only one from the village that seemed to not fear or torment Sabrina and her grandmother. A good, dependable friend that has troubles of his own.

Harold: Jonathan's father. Prejudiced and cruel, he fears anything that might be stronger or more powerful than himself- and takes his fear out on whoever comes in range.

Marcus: Sabrina's father. Not known at all by Sabrina or her grandmother. Hadn't left Sabrina and her mother as eagerly as is believed. As always, there are two sides to a story, and he has never shared his side or his heritage.

Dragons can be wonderful creatures. Everyone believes them to be legends, part of a fairy tale, but I know the truth. They are just as real as you or me, maybe more so. If you manage to be in the right place at the right time you just might see them flying overhead. Their gossamer wings holding them aloft as they soar on their way. Dragons are beautiful, powerful and sometimes terrible. They are as intelligent, if not more-so, than most people. These days no one really believes in dragons, even if they happen to be witch or other magic holder. Strange how people only want to believe in what they can easily understand. You may ask how I know all this, and that would be a fair question. Why would this simple woman know more that you, than church leaders or skeptical scholars? Well, I will begin at the beginning, and maybe by the end of my story you just might believe.

My story begins very simply. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father didn't care that he had help create a new life in me. I was left parent less from the very moment of my release into this world. So, I was raised by my grandmother, who named me for my mother Sabrina. I was raised in a home filled with love and learning. Grandmother was the wise woman for our village. She was both revered and shunned by people. They respected her power, but feared her because they could not understand what she could do. She didn't have any great power, nothing flashy or startling. She simply knew what herbs could heal, how to mix them, and how to help a frightened mother give birth. Still, we lived on the outskirts of the village. Here we thought we would be safe from any burst of hatred or fear that the unknown tends to trigger in people. The placement of our small cottage also allowed us be closer to the herbs found in the woods and lower parts of the Dragon Mountain, which cast a shadow on our small cottage and it's garden in the late evening.

I was a small child, barely talking myself, when my grandmother's stories began to take root in my mind and heart. I would sit on her lap at night, and at her feet during they day as she worked, and listen to her many tales of witches, dragons and magic. She regaled me with tales of dragons and people living side by side, and some people that could take both forms. Some people could become dragons, wolves, foxes, or one of any number of beasts. She also told be that some beasts could briefly take human form and warned me of the difference. People that became other beings usually kept their human minds, as beasts that became man kept their animal minds. Just like everything else, there were shape shifters and other magic users that were very good, kind, and peaceful. However, there were also some bent on causing pain and chaos where ever they went. Leaving a trail of tears and fear behind them. Of course there were also those in the middle that just tried to blend in and live their lives without attracting notice at all.

The most amazing tales I remember were about my own family. She told me that the blood of shape changers ran in her blood, and hence in mine. Her story was that her father was a dragon borrowing the form of man, while her mother was able to take dragon form. They had met in flight, and fell in love. They lived together still, high in the dragon cliffs as an old dragon couple and would come to our aid if we ever had need of it. There names were Gareth and Lisbeth, and my grandmother promised me that they were watching over us, and would guide me as I grew. When I was old enough to question how they would watch me when I was not visible from the sky she gave me a stone to wear. It was colored and shaped by nature to look almost like a dragon's eye. It was a shade of blue that I had never seen in tone before, with gold and black flecks of shiny mica in the center. She told me of aunts and uncles that were witches of could become foxes or even multiple creatures.

As I grew older, I came to the same conclusion that you must be at now. That all these stories were simply tales told by an old lady to entertain a child that would otherwise be underfoot. Warnings to behave and stay in boundaries set for me for my on good, to keep me safe. Or even stories of a lonely lady created to ease that loneliness, to reassure the teller, and the listener, that they were really not alone. I would agree with you still, if the rest of my story, and life, did not take the turns that you can read if you keep on going. A life that taught me that the creatures and knowledge that most people fear hold much less danger than a group of frightened people. If you chose not to go on and read my story, you can keep thinking that life is simple and doesn't go beyond what you can easily see in front of you. That might be more comfortable, but could lead you to some trouble. Ignorance may be bliss, but it can also lead to pain and destruction.

It was a chorus of shouting that finally woke. I had been deep in an incredibly vivid dream of dragons and fire, only to find that the crackling heat of my dream was stemmed from reality. Our cottage was on fire. Coughing, I got out of bed worried for Grandmother. She'd become frail in the last few years and the smoke already hung thick and black in the air. Holding the thin sleeve of my night shirt over my mouth and nose I stumbled my way into Grandmother's room and then to her side. She was muttering and tossing in her sleep, but would not wake up no matter how I shook her or shouted at her. Suddenly, I was grateful for being sturdy and strong. I gentle picked Grandmother up from her bed with her sheet wrapped around her fragile body and carried her out of her room. The height and strong body that had caused the other children my age to mock me had some practical advantages, which she was now very happy about under these circumstances. Struggling to get both of us to safety with no real plan was something I wish I never had to do.

When I finally reached the front door it would not open no matter how I pushed it remained still. It was only then that the words I had been awoken by; began to make any kind of sense to my shocked mind. The villagers must have set the fire, and had likely put things against the door to keep us from reaching the freedom of fresh, smoke, and heat free air. "Burn the witch!", "Kill them!" and other shouts of fear and violence beat their way into my brain and made me shudder. The fear the villages had of my Grandmother and I had grown over greatly the last few years. As Grandmother had been teaching me the arts of healing and herbs. She had some natural gifts that lent to the craft, and it had been noted that mine seemed to be even greater than hers. That combined with some very hard times in the village had led to this. There had been some tragic births lately, and two seasons with poor harvests. There had been dozens of small misfortunes all blamed an the most likely targets, us.

Grandmother coughed, and I realized that I had to do something quickly or we would both die, thus allowing the villagers to have their wish. I couldn't let that happen. I felt the panic try to rise in me, but I refused to let it win. Fighting back the fear and panic I crouched down closer to the floor and tightened my hold on Grandmother. Think, I had to calm down and think fast. Safety and fresh air. There had to be some other way out or somewhere I could bring Grandmother that we could breath clean air. The fire crackled and rose, growing and moving towards us as I at there frozen. Struggling to keep some composure and think, I rocked back on my heels.

"The root cellar, go down into the cellar Rina. You will be safe there." I heard the answer thunder through my head. I didn't stop to wonder at the deep rumbling voice that invaded my mind, and simply seized the brilliance of the solution. I could work on that puzzle latter, when I had the time. I gently placed Grandmother down on the rug as far from the spreading fire as I could. Then I moved to the center of the room and felt along the floor for the metal ring that would raise the door that lead to our only hope of safety. Finally grasping the hot ring of metal I lifted it with all my strength. Fire licked at the edges of the door and my hands, but I ignored it. I sighed in relief when the door groaned as I worked it open fully, then coughed because of my unthinking inhalation of smoky air. I then moved back to Grandmother and readied myself to get her back in my arms and down the stairs. Moving as quickly as I dared, I moved us both down into the cellar. After settling Grandmother down I quickly climbed back up to the hatch and slammed the door behind us, to keep the smoke and flames above us. Here we could be safe from the flames, the earthen walls and clay ceiling layered under the wooden floors would protect us while everything we had ever possessed burned to ash above our heads.

I was forced to let the reality of the horrific night begin to sink into my head. It was simply too much for me to process, I tried, but exhaustion and shock overwhelmed me. I curled up next to Grandmother, ignoring the mystery of the disembodied voice that had given us this safety and the jeering shouts that I heard echoing in my head. Even though I could no longer hear the shouts that I had heard coming from the riot of villagers earlier from our hiding place underground. Even if we had been dying upstairs the roar of the fire would have drowned the voices out, at least I think that would be true. Covering my ears with my hands I curled into a ball, oblivious to everything but my own misery and fear. Not noticing when Grandmother's breath first slowed, then stopped, as I drifted into a fitful sleep. This is something that I would never really forgive myself for. I might not have been able to save her, but I should have at least held her hand and offered her what ease and comfort I could. Instead I was lying still beside her in a dreamless sleep, useless.

By the time I opened my eyes again everything I had known and loved was gone. I woke up sore, coughing, and confused. I was on a dirt floor instead of my nice warm bed. I had aches and pains that did not match the activities I remembered from the day before, and my hands fairly burned with the slightest touch or movement. When I tried to sit up the aches and pain magnified, but the memories of the night returned. I turned to Grandmother only to know that she was gone as soon as I saw her face. Despite the soot and dirt that covered her, she was still beautiful and had a peaceful smile on her face. She was always serene and at peace no matter what was done or said to her, I shouldn't be surprised when that trait followed her into death.

Holding back the tears that prickled behind my nose I looked around. In the cellar we kept our storage of herbs and vegetables, so I would have supplies that would allow me to eat, and make some medicines to take with me when I felt ready to leave my hiding place. Ignoring my emotions of panic,fear and sadness I made myself busy. If I were busy I wouldn't have to think beyond the task at hand. My first job was to use what tools I had at my disposal to tend to Grandmother's body and bury her in the dirt floor. At least no fearful villagers or scavenging animals would disturb her resting place.

Only after I had Grandmother tended to and laid to rest did I even look at my throbbing hands. I was stunned at the damage the fire had done. I quickly washed myself then went through our stores and mixed a poultice to wrap my hands. It was awkward, but I managed to get my hands wrapped and ready to heal. Then I went through the rest of the supplies and mixed and poultices I might need after leaving, and gathered all the food I could fit into the bag we kept to collect herbs. I continued to ignore the fact that I had no idea where I would go, or what I would do after climbing out of here. Instead of thinking and making plans I through myself wholly into making preparations. When I had done all I could to ready myself for leaving I looked around one last time. There was nothing left for me here, nothing more I could do for myself or Grandmother in the cellar. I was dressed only in the torn, scorched and filthy nightgown, a cloak I had found under the pack that was currently settled on my back full of herbs, and all the vegetables and medicines that I thought I might need. Around my neck was the always present stone that Grandmother had given me, it was a almost comforting weight for its familiarity alone. At my hip rested a flask with the only water I had, which I would have to use sparingly.

Finally, I had no other excuses to stall. I took a deep breath and moved up to the hatch out of the cellar. I climbed up the ladder slowly and pushed at the door. At first the door wouldn't move, but after a short struggle it moved and I was able to shove it all the way open. It groaned loudly as it moved, and I said a silent prayer that no one was around to hear. I paused, taking another deep breath and listening carefully for any human movement. All I could hear were the noises that I expected. Wind, birds and the forest noises without the sounds of any people lingering at the scene. Slowly, I looked out of my hiding place and even though I knew what to expect the reality of it had me struggling to catch my breath. There was not much left but charred timbers and ashes from what I could see. Our brick chimney still stood, and a few pieces of furniture were charred, but still standing. Again, tears threaten but I fought them back and just went on to do what I had to. I could break down when I was away from here and safe. Straightening my shoulders I climbed up and out of the cellar and went to where my room had been. I had to to see if there was anything left I could salvage, like clothes or shoes.

Stepping over piles of fallen roof, charred rugs and furniture I made my way across the floor. My bed and my furniture was no longer recognizable but the trunk at the foot of my bed seemed to be intact. Grandmother had always told me that the trunk was made to withstand dragon's fire, so maybe her tales weren't all make believe. The trunk was a little singed but was still in fairly good shape. With some hope I opened the trunk and saw that my boots, books and clothes that I had kept in the trunk were all in tact. They smelled slightly of smoke, but so did my hair so I was not concern about that. Not wasting any more time, I quickly removed the pack, flask and cloak. I removed my burnt and tattered nightclothes and put on pants, a tunic and my boots before returning the cloak, and flask to my back. I went through the extra clothes in the trunk and fit what I could in my pack. There were also several books I needed to help me with making medicines, but several more that I simply loved and didn't want to part with. Finally I chose only one non functional book, my favorite, to bring with me. This book would only soothe my mind and soul ,but not help me survive my upcoming travels. However, I just could not leave my books all behind, this book of stories in particular. Maybe keeping this bit of Grandmother and home would help me face the challenges I might face. So I repacked my bag, moving around the herbs and medicines to fit the few books in as well. Sighing I put everything I could not take back in the trunk and closed the lid. I would never see my other books, or the skirts Grandmother had made for me, or my favorite, delicate clothes that I rarely wore but loved.

Moving out of what had once been my room, I moved to Grandmother's room. Looking around at the space that had once been Grandmother's sanctuary I finally let some of the tears I had been fighting fall. Her room was completely gone, destroyed. Her rocking chair, the bookcase overflowing with beautiful tomes of knowledge and stories, the paintings from her parents were all destroyed. The fire must have been started closest to her room, which made a sad sort of sense. The villagers had done this out of fear and anger directed firmly at Grandmother, so of course they would concentrate on her room. I tried not to dwell in the horror of the facts and to get moving again, but it was so hard. Grandmother wanted nothing more from her life than to help people and live in peace. She only used her knowledge and little magic to help other people, never for her own gain or to hurt people. All that goodness and caring had gotten her killed, and everything she had owned destroyed.

It was that thought, and the notion that the villagers might eventually send some people here to make sure their work was done, that finally got me moving. Just as I turned and was about to leave I saw a glimmer in the rubble where Grandmother's dresser had been. I bent down and shifted through the ashes a bit to see what might have survived the fire. Half buried in ash and soot was a stone, nearly identical to the one I always wore. Except that it was green rather than the blue of my stone. A few more tears fell, despite my struggles to keep them at bay. I picked up the stone and as I did the cord that had once held it fell away to join the rest of the destruction on the floor. Gently, I removed the cord holding the stone from around my neck and added Grandmother's stone to rest next to mine before returning the cord to my neck. Ignoring the hot tears that silently rolled down my face I said my goodbyes to my home, Grandmother, and the only life I had ever known. For her I would be strong and try to be as loving and selfless as she was. I straightened my shoulders and walked over what had once been our front door, toward whatever the future held for me.

The wind blew back my sun streaked brown and red hair, which was unruly enough without the wind, as I began my own journey on into the unknown future. I was grateful that I had still woken early to face the day, despite the lack of sleep during the horrific night. No one should be about this early, I could do what I needed to without being seen. The villagers had a busy day and night behind them too, so it was doubtful that I would run across someone even if I had dared to walk on the dirt paths that run around and through out the village. Reluctantly I turned westward to scout around the outskirts of the village. I would take a look around, hiding in the shadows of the predawn hour, and see what I might find. Then, taking the only direction that offered me any substantial hope, I would head into the mountains. Although I didn't really believe that my great grandparents were there, or that I might find help there, I know the villagers would never dare venture there. The mountains were a place the masses feared, mainly because of the same legends and tales that would have given me hope, had I believed them. So my trunk survived the fire, it must have just been luck, not anything beyond that. No dragons had come to save or protect us, though our need had been great. So, the stories had to be false, or at least exaggerated beyond recognition. I couldn't let myself hope for or depend on help, even from family, that might or might not be fictional.

Moving quietly through the shadows, I took great care to be certain no one else was around even though every instinct I had already assured me that I was the only one in the area out and about. The village as a whole was quiet, with out livestock and a few snores from certain villagers breaking the silence. I didn't make a sound as I moved toward a specific house. The house was in bad shape, listing slightly to one side, with faded color and cracked boards on each side and a sagging roof. I knew the outside of this house well, it was the home of the only living person I still trusted. His family was not nearly as worthy of my trust and friendship, but I tried to take people for their own worth rather than for that of their family, which they had no control over. Especially parents.

Moving a gray rock below the only window on this side of the house, I looked for a message and found a dirty and wrinkled sheet of parchment that we had been using for a month now to communicate. I recognized the tight, almost illegible chicken scratch that Jonathan called writing, and read the note to myself. "Rina, I'm hoping that you will be able to read this. My father is stirring up trouble, and I'm unsure as to what might happen tonight. I'm hoping I can come warn you, but my father is keeping me in his sight at all times. If you are reading this then I was either able to warn you or have simply been worrying over naught. Be careful. -Jon"

I sighed, wondering what might have gone on in town the night before. Was Jon alright? Had his father Harold really been behind the fire? Whose idea sparked the fire wasn't important. I turned the sheet of paper over, and reached back in the hole that the rock had hidden to get the charcoal to write a reply before she peeked in the window to be certain Jon was alright. I quickly scratched out a reply that would let him know I was safe, and that Grandmother was gone. I made no mention of where I was going, just that I would be leaving. I could not risk someone like his father finding and reading the note. In fact, if anyone found this besides Jonathan he would be in serious danger from his father. I hoped that no one knew of the hiding spot, or the fact that we were actually friendly. He would be an outcast if anyone in the village found out. There were already some that suspected, but since no one knew for sure we was safe from the most violent punishments.

I carefully put the note and it's concealing rock back to their places then stood up and looked at the dirty window that was a symbol of what could be my very last chance to see Jon. Holding my breath, I moved closer to the house and stretched up to peer through Jon's window. He was sprawled out across his bed, clearly bloody and most likely badly bruised even from this distance. His space sheets were crumpled and shoved to the bottom of the bed, and he was now on a bare mattress and covered only by his filthy looking clothes he must have been wearing the day before. Stifling a cry of despair, I looked more carefully and was relieved to see his chest moving with steady, constant breaths. At least his father hadn't beaten him to death. Tapping on the window lightly, so no one else could hear, I hoped that I would have the chance to talk to Jon before leaving. He had been my only friend, the only person my own age that didn't mock me for being tall and strong rather than petite and dainty like most of the other girls. He was the only one that bothered to talk to me like a person, rather than treating me like a freak because of Grandmother and the things she could do, and then the things she taught me and I could now do. He was my best friend, my only good human contact besides Grandmother, who was lost to me now.

Getting no response from my first set of taps at the window I sagged back down to the ground, dejected. Did I dare stay any longer? Soon people should be out and going about their daily lives. That they had tried to end end my life and had successfully killed Grandmother the night before, but even that could change the little routines of life here. I desperately needed to get away from these people. They could not be allowed to find out that their plans hadn't been completely fulfilled. Ignoring all of that I stretched back up to Jon's window and tapped again. I knew I shouldn't, but I felt such a need to talk to Jon. I just needed to say goodbye in more than a note. Needed one last conversation to soothe my ragged nerves and bruised soul. I watched Jon's form shift slightly on his bed. He turned toward the window, groaned and opened his eyes. At first he only opened them a tiny bit, but as soon as he saw me in the window they went wide. I dropped to the ground as soon as I saw that he had seen me and waited for him to come over to the window. I stood stiffly, still watching and listening for any other movement as I leaned against the crooked wall below Jon's window. It seemed hours, though I know it wasn't more than a minute, before I heard Jon open the window. I didn't even let him speak a single word before I started by asking "Are you alright?" in a husky whisper, just loud enough for him to hear me. I hadn't used my voice since the fire, and it was scratching and harsh sounding to my ears.

"That's my line. What happened last night? I tried to come and warn you that something was brewing, but my father caught me leaving and locked me in. I can climb out through my window. I just don't fit anymore. I'm sorry." Jon rushed all this out so fast, without even a breath, that I had to wait for him to run out of steam completely before I could relay to him the events of the evening. I glossed over my panic and injuries, but couldn't hold back that Grandmother and my home were gone. I gave him the news that I was going, and that I didn't know when, or if, I might ever come back. It wasn't a surprise to him, but he still tried to convince me to stay nearby. "You can't just disappear. What about food? Water? Somewhere safe to sleep?"

"Jon, I know how to live in the outdoors. Grandmother taught me more than what herbs can ease a cough. I will be safer away from here than were I could be found. Trust me, if I come back for anything you'll know. I'll find a way to talk to you, or leave you a note. I'll be alright. Really." I don't know which one of us I was trying to convince. I leaned against the house, gathering my strength to walk away and leave him behind when I felt his hand on the top of my head. Jon had reached his hand out the window. I reached up and covered his hand with mine. I was startled when I felt him rubbing a thumb over the bandages on my hand and heard his angry hiss. "I forgot about that, it's just some scrapes that I had to cover before heading out." I lied, not wanting him to know the extent of the burns. He had to worry about surviving his father's anger, not my hands. I knew he didn't believe me, but he chose not to argue with me over it. "Besides, it looks like your father gifted you with some injuries of your own to tend to." I flinched as soon as the thoughtless words found their way past my lips. I wished I could take them back, but words can't be removed from the air that easily.

I heard Jon's sigh lightly. Then he made an offer that I had only been half hoping to hear. "If you need anything, please come back and I'll help you in anyway I can. If I could I'd go with you I would, but at the moment I'm stuck and likely wouldn't be of much help to you." Jon said, with sadness and no little frustration clear in his voice. Again, I reassured him and had to say goodbye before I lost the will to walk away. I promised to come back when I felt I could, and to let him know I was alright at least by message, even if I couldn't stay and talk to him. I moved away from the house and into the shadowed forest quickly, not risking my resolve or my life by staying any longer. It was well past time for me to completely disappear.

Before long I was hidden deep within the constantly moving shadows of the forest, again shedding unwanted tears. My life had changed so completely. I had to say goodbye to everything I knew, everything I loved. I had only one living friend, and I might not ever see them again. The only living members of my family were the likely fictitious dragon great grandparents, and the father I had never even met. All I had left were the few possessions I carried on my back and the knowledge and love Grandmother had instilled in me over the fourteen years of my life. I would use the knowledge and love given to me and live up to the expectations Grandmother had always had for me. I would do Grandmother and my mother, both now forever lost to me, proud. I would do more than survive, I would find a way to thrive if only to honor them. For now I would travel until I felt safe enough to rest in the lower hills of Dragon Mountain. Only then would I allow myself to think, to puzzle over what might come next, and the strange events that had led me here to begin with.

Due to my hope to have this published in the future I will not be posting further chapters, only this short exert. If you wish to read more please let me know. I will be looking for volunteers to proofread.