The hunter picked the fruit and found it firm, the skin soft to the touch. Upon cutting into the fruit a smell like peaches and strawberries filled his nostrils and his mouth began to water. He studied the fruit closely, the flesh was the palest shade of pink but as you went deeper to the core it darkened until, at the center it was blood red.
The hunter began to bring the fruit to his lips when he stopped. He suddenly knew what he was holding in his hand. The Arcanum, the fruit of the dragon. Rumor had it that the Arcanum brought death. Anyone who ate of it would feel the fire of the dragon to his skin. It was also said to attract the dragon himself. Of course no one had seen the dragon in well over 50 years and whether or not the dragon was alive had been debated often by the villagers.
The elders had forbidden anything remotely connected to the dragon in the viialge and it was only by the merest happenstance that the hunter would have known what was in his hand. He looked around him. There was no one there and yet he felt eyes from every corner watching him.
A slight breeze blew the scent of the fruit to his nostrils again and he brought the fruit to his lips. Barely touching it with his mouth, he took the smallest of bites and suddenly there was flavor bursting in his mouth. The flavor so delightful, so delicious it was indescribable. He took another bite. Again, overwhelmingly amazed by what he had tasted so completely wonderful but there was in the eating of the fruit – almost immediately – a hunger for more. There was also a desire to share this fruit with others. He could only imagine what his wife would think.