Bones in the ceiling

I feel more awake, so I've decided to explore. I'm in a cave. Actually it's so long and narrow I might as well call it a tunnel. There's barely enough room to move at all, let alone stretch my wings, but I've made some progress. There's a light ahead, you see, and I'm keen to see what it is. I'm about halfway there now, and worn out - time to take a rest.

The tunnel walls are smooth. Limestone, maybe. Worn by water, certainly. Once upon a time a river ran through here, eating away the rock. Now there's just me. Me and the bones. The bones stick down from the ceiling. Their sole purpose seems to be to get in my way. At first I thought they were stalactites, but they're not. There are whole skeletons up there, embedded in the rock. I don't know if embedded is the right word. It feels like the bones are sweating out of the rock.

There are all kinds of skeletons, large and small. The largest has bones bigger than anything I've seen: each rib is as long as I am from snout to tail. The smallest is the size of a snowflake. It has two arms and two legs, and the ghostly imprint of wings. Maybe it belonged to a faery. It's hard to tell. They look like fossils, but I'm not convinced they are. The way they're pressed into the rock tells me they were put there. And now they want to get out.

Which is exactly what the little faery skeleton did as I forced my way passed it. Maybe I dislodged it. I don't know. What I do know is it dropped to the tunnel floor and shattered. Then, slowly, each little bone joined on to its neighbour again. As soon as it was complete, the faery skeleton stood up and danced. I watched, fascinated. Somewhere distant I seemed to hear music. And there was a taste in the air, something I hadn't tasted for a long time: the taste of charm.

The skeleton danced for the time it took me to take ten breaths. Then it came apart again. This time the bones didn't come back together. So I moved on until exhaustion got the better of me. As far as I know, they're still lying where they fell. The thing is, I can remember every move that little faery skeleton made. Every step. It's branded into my mind. It's a dance I'd like to perform myself, if only I could. But there's no room in here. Besides, I'm only a dragon, and what do dragons know about dancing?

I'm tired. I'll sleep a while now, and see if tomorrow I can't reach the light.