The tales had spread far and wide of the lonely keep in the mountains, guarded by a beast with claws like swords, its scales black as coal, its breath hotter than a blacksmith’s forge. Of the ancient relics that rested within, their beauty and value beyond measure. And, of course, of the beautiful woman who could be glimpsed at the window, singing lovely, lonely songs to the moon and stars.

Many warriors had come to the mountain keep to vanquish the beast. Some had come for the promises of wealth, some for the beautiful maiden’s hand; some had come for glory, some in quest of good and valiant deeds, and there could be none finer than such a rescue.

None had returned.

He was no warrior who came now, picking his way up the broken trail. No fair-haired hero he, fearless in battle and sung of across the land. All knew the cat-folk to be trouble, silver-tongued and tricky at best, murderous at worst, and he looked the part of the worst, garbed in dull black leather, a knife at his belt and a shortbow over his back. His pelt was dark as ebony, his voice smoother than silk, and all who beheld him knew him for a dangerous rogue. Indeed, his blade had found a few throats in its time; but most of his conquests were not so violent. Great jewels and fine works of art had passed through his fingers; fine locks and guarded vaults had all given up their treasures to him. He had not set out to take hearts, but he’d stolen a few all the same.

This time, though… For a human lass, she was fair to his eyes, and as she strode about her perch, she moved with a fluid grace whose appeal transcended race. It was the smaller treasures he’d come for, but listening to her song, he felt a craving for her.

And nothing he’d desired had yet failed to be his, in time.

As she sang on, he crept toward the keep’s wall and began to scale it, claws finding easy purchase. Ever wary, he ascended, but the dragon was nowhere to be seen.

Silent as a shadow, he slipped onto the balcony. Turning away from the lightening east, the maiden gasped to find him leaning in the doorway, grinning at the sight of her.

“You’re a pretty thing, to be singing such a sad song,” he breathed. “Perhaps I should linger a time and cure some of that loneliness before I steal you away, hmmm?”

For a moment he thought he saw hope in her bright blue eyes, hope and a longing that flushed her pale cheeks. But then she waved her hands at him. “You must go, stranger,” she urged. “Go now, and quickly, before it’s too late!”

Understandable, that haste – if regrettable; the bed in the room beyond looked quite fine. “So be it,” he sighed. “No dalliance. But come – you must have something suitable for a journey…” He stepped within, practised gaze sweeping the room, not only for valuables this time.

Then there was a curious scrape on the stone.

“You’re an appealing little morsel,” a deep voice rumbled. “It might have worked, had you been a bit earlier. But it seems I’ll linger here another day yet.”

Flames followed him into the stairwell, and the chase was on.