The dragon roared, snorting fire as it swooped over the village. Two cottages burst into flame, their occupants running screaming into the street to escape the searing heat of the flames.
Zoe stood in the centre of the village and straightened her helmet, taking a deep breath. She squinted, peering through the slits in the visor, trying to spot the dragon through the smoke and flames. The metal helmet was terribly heavy and her head was getting hotter by the minute.
“It’s like wearing an iron saucepan!” she thought. But hopefully it would stop the dragon from biting her head off. She also hoped that when the dragon attacked she would be able to lift her shield, which currently rested on the ground in front of her – it felt like it weighed a ton.
She could see the dragon menacing some of the village children… “This is it!” she thought, raising her sword above her head and yelling a war cry. The dragon turned towards her, its red eyes glowing and a trickle of smoke rising from each nostril. It snorted, spread its wings and half hopped, half glided towards Zoe…
From the Powerhouse Museum’s collection:
With the lack of dragons around these days, firemen are the only ones who get to fight fires. This brass fireman’s helmet is over a hundred years old, and is decorated with fire-breathing dragons. Take a closer look.