She had stumbled across his path long ago, in a time when two moons lit the night sky. She had been on one of her excursions, collecting Dragon scales for armor when she saw his eyes. Piercing eyes lurking between boulders that guarded the mouth of a cave. Their eyes locked. Neither moved.
Ah, but first you should know something about her, of the Legend. You see, she carries a mark across her left shoulder, four deep slashing scars. The mark of the Dragon.
The villagers had found her in the forest, alone and bleeding, curled around a Dragon’s scale of blue and gold. She was no more than five years of age. No parents were ever found. They took her in, half out of pity, half out of fear. She carried the mark. They had heard the stories. She might be the one they were told would be found.