The dragon begrudgingly lumbered into the village, as he always did the first day of spring. As he passed each hut, he put on a show of smoke and fire.
The maiden tied to a tree screamed as he neared. He bit through her ropes and carried the kicking and screaming lass, between pointed teeth, back to his lair. He didn’t understand humans’ need to tie virgins into trees. He gently placed his rescue amongst the others.
Then off he flew to snag a cow or two; a century of maidens was a hungry lot to feed.