Not unsoftly did the dragon-bird look from its nest, down the cliff to the unbelievers gathered below. A dozen or so men hand jumped to their death on that ledge just moments before. Forlorn lovers, ruined entrepreneurs, even broken warriors all flocked to her net, looking dolefully to the eagle-dragon for some relief—for their troubles to syne from them, washed away so that they could be set free. But she would just look at each of them, in turn, offering her sympathy and compassion, but providing no miracle cure. Some went home with hanging heads, sad. Others? They simply jumped.