George lay there with a sleeplessness brought on by the knowledge of the conflict he knew would come. He stared at the dragon effigy hanging in his room. It was a symbol and reminder of the coming battle.
“How had it come to this?” he wondered. “Was it when the aged, grey-haired woman had given him the dragon image? Or was it years before, when she had insisted that it was imperative that his mother give him his particular name?”
He lay quietly. He knew that he needed his rest. “How can I face the next day without rest?” he tried to remind himself.
“It’s my destiny,” he concluded. “But maybe I can hide from it.”
Suddenly there was a roar from somewhere beyond his door.
“Georgie, sweetheart. Turn off your light. You start kindergarten tomorrow. Granny will come see you off too,” Mommy called.