“Whydoyou look so young?” I ask after a moment.
Her lips remain sealed for so long that I fear she may not answer. I attempt to ignore the awkward silence by busying myself with the tea. I pour us each a cup, and push it toward her, careful not to spill anything.
She accepts the cup and lifts it to her lips. After a contemplative sip of her tea, Jyn finally replies, “I’ve never given it much thought. I suppose dragons age quite slowly once we’ve reached maturity. To the human eye, it looks as though time has stopped altogether.”
“How long do dragons live for?”
Jyn raises an eyebrow. “Sometimes too long, and other times not long enough.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Never mind.”
“Which of the other stories are true?” I ask, taking the first sip of my own tea. It’s delicious, the flavor earthy and rich.
“How should I know?”
“If you’ve been around long enough to see the invention of writing, you’ve surely experienced many other monumental events. All legends start from an inkling of truth, do they not? That’s how myths and superstitions are ingrained in our bones.”
Jyn shrugs. “Some. Not all.”
I refill her cup of tea as I search my memory for my favorite childhood tales.
“The legendary archer, Houyi?”
“What of him?”
“Was he real? And did the Gods reward him with a potion of immortality for shooting down the stars?”
Jyn tenses. “He was real. And yes, they did.”
I lean forward, intrigued. “And his wife, Chang’e. Did she really steal it from him and escape to the moon?”
“Is that what you were led to believe?”
“Am I wrong?”
“I knew Chang’e to be a devoted wife. She drank his potion of immortality to keep it from falling into the wrong hands. She did the right thing but was banished to the moon for it.”
I frown. “I don’t like this version. It’s far more tragic.”
“You were the one who asked,” Jyn grumbles, unsympathetic.
“What of the three dragons and the stranger?” I ask before I’m able to stop the question from tumbling out.
Like the untouchable night sky, Jyn is suddenly still and distant. I can’t explain why the air around us goes cold. The flickering flames of our modest fire cast shadows upon her face; her exhaustion is evident in the deep, dark circles beneath her eyes.
“I hate that story.”
“But why? It was one of my favorites growing up. ‘According to legend, they were a family of three—’?”
“I know how it goes!” she shrieks, rising to her feet so quickly that she drops her cup and the tea soaks into the thirsty ground. Jyn turns on her heel and walks off along the water’s edge.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Go to sleep. You’ll leave at first light.”
“But—”
