“I think I see where you’re going with this. You think the activists may have set up a situation to make dragons look bad.” Ben asked.

“Exactly. Too far fetched, you think?”

“Not at all, but how would that connect with the troops we passed?”

I shrugged in frustration. “Maybe it doesn’t.”

We rode in silence past field of barley. The golden glow of Dracarta was fully visible now, but still several miles away. We didn’t actually live in the city, but in the near countryside.

I hated the activists. My dream was to join the messengers and care for my own dragon, a plan many considered ridiculous. Dragons were out of style. Steam cars were more reliable and planes would soon replace the scaled creatures in flight. Then what? Dragons aren’t pets.

Ben and Peter dropped me off at the path that led to my home. I told them to be safe and waved as they continued on to their house. I trudged up the hill toward dark windows. No one would be awake this late. Reaching the door, I turned my key and slipped inside.