The sound of the beast’s passage was a roaring moan. It might have been wind displaced by the force of the beast’s wing stroke, or it might have been the voice of the mob. If indeed the two were different. Sammy loved symbols, and dragons, were among the best. They were huge and powerful, strong and dangerous. They were elemental beasts that Twist could envision as chaos embodied. When he got up enough courage to look again, the dragon and the man were gone as though they had never been. Maybe they never had.