Butsko the Dragon

"I'm going to kill a dragon!" - Tymko announced, pointing his wooden sword at the henhouse as if it were the lair of a wicked serpent. My heart was pounding like a fire bell. Only yesterday old Oleksa had been telling of knights who saved whole kingdoms, and I decided: why not me? I gathered my gear like a true warrior. Mother's apron became a cloak. On my head I jammed an old makitra bowl - a helmet the king himself couldn't have bettered.

Only I could see through it as through a crack in a wattle fence, and it squashed my nose flat. Nastunia came running out into the yard, saw me and burst out laughing so hard the hens scattered. - Tymko, you look like a jug! - It's - it's a helmet! - I shouted from under the makitra, and my voice came out hollow, as if from a barrel. Nastunia laughed even harder, and I marched off proudly.

- If you want to scare somebody, you ought at least to see who you're scaring, - the old man tossed out, raising an eyebrow as I passed. I only waved my sword (made from an old stick) and answered that true heroes go into battle blind. The old man shook his head, and I was already striding past the fence, out to the pasture where, as I thought, a fearsome foe lay in wait. And indeed, something was bellowing and thrashing about in the bushes. A dragon!

- I thought, and a chill ran down my spine. I crept closer, and saw: a horned head stuck fast in the wattle fence, a bearded monster furiously shaking its head. - Surrender, serpent! - I cried and jabbed my sword right into its side. Rrip! - and Butsko the goat, for that's exactly who it was, tore free of the fence as if let off a chain. Thump! - I leapt back, the makitra slid down over my eyes, and the world went dark as the inside of a sack. - Run, knight, run!

- my own head was shouting, and I ran wherever my legs would carry me, swinging my sword blindly, until I slammed straight into the gate and, out of my wits, squeezed through into the yard. The goat chased me the whole time, hooves drumming - tuk-tuk-tuk - and I could see nothing, only hear him breathing down my back. Sploosh! - and at full tilt I flew straight into the barrel of rainwater, the makitra jammed on my head and my legs stuck up in the air like a little frog's.

The old man pulled me out of the barrel, tugged off the makitra and glanced at the goat, which was already calmly chewing burdock by the fence. - Well now, the dragon surrendered without a fight, - said the old man, and I, soaked and red-faced, understood... My glory stayed at the bottom of the barrel - but only this time!