Book: Night pyrethrum

A jet of flame sprang into the air. In the dark sky clearly drawn silhouette: a powerful body, huge, slow flapping membranous wings, a mouth, spewing fire. The red dragon silently made a circle over the cliffs. I watched in awe as he turns to him like a tail and moves in the direction of the village. To reach the cliffs, you have two days travel over rough roads, through the hills and ravines. The dragon was approaching quickly, he was not detained nor steep climbs and descents or the fast mountain streams.
What do I do?! Standing in plain sight on top of a hill, in front of the cliff! And suddenly the dragon hunting that night was out? In all the stories dragons girls stole!
I rushed away from the clearing, towards the village. No time to drink, you don't! Got to sleep in the tree, clung to the trunk light. The dress I am wearing a white, blonde hair. May not notice me dragon? The sweet smell of flowers in the dream-wood of thought fills my head, the knees stiff, the fingers in the bags with pyrethrum so gripping that his hands cramped. Here flying dragon above the cliff rose higher in the dark sky, again descended a little, and again soared into the clouds. High above the dream-swept tree, did not notice. In the village flew.