Starry, starry night. High above Arizona’s Mojave Desert, two spectral forms appeared to float among the stars of the Milky Way, their wing beats making a noise like thunder. Were these the mighty thunderbirds of ancient Hohokam myth? No, they were Ramóna and her BFF Desdemona, two damsel dragons on a jaunt to the legendary realm of Las Vegas. On a dark desert highway below them, a few long-haul truckers seemed to have the same destination.

The daring damsels had left their Sonoran Desert homes near Tucson early that evening. After skirting the big city of Phoenix [named after a cryptid of Persian myth], they used Highway 93 as a navigational aide as they flew northwest. Between Wickenburg and Wikieup, they overflew fifty (or so) miles of the Joshua Tree Forest. South of Wikieup and west of Bagdad was the ghost town of Nothing(really just an abandoned gas station/convenience store); there was certainly no reason to make much ado about the place. Near Dolan Springs, north of Kingman, they espied the glow of Sin City’s bright lights on the horizon. Minutes after crossing the Colorado River at Black Canyon, they reached Las Vegas.

As the saying goes, “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” so we don’t know much about the next few days. To be fair, the girls might not remember much of that time anyway, except that they did consume quite a few margaritas – ah, firewater with crushed ice! Giggle Juice! (“Hey, ya know, those guys from Area 51 were kinda cute!”) But, on their last day, they went to an outdoor concert on the shores of Lake Mead. Hot August night, and when you’d almost bet you could hear yourself sweat, he walks in; Puff, the Magic Dragon made his entrance to the music of “Chariots of Fire.” Eyes black as coal, and when he lifts his face, every ear in the place is on him. What a sight! His scales glowed iridescent by the light of the silvery moon, as he sang a collection of classic tunes. Members of the audience were dancing in the moonlight, while others signaled their approbation with their cigarette lighters. Ramóna and Dezzy were positively glowing as they sang along with “Steam Heat”. Soon, they were smokin’ hot when Puff sang “Great Balls of Fire.” Unfortunately, they were ejected from the concert, indeed from the State of Nevada, when they accidentally set fire to two cottonwood trees during the performance of “Burning Love.”

So, here they were, exiled to the far side of the Rubicon, er, no, the Colorado River, not far south of the Grand Canyon and near the western end of the Mogollon Rim region. Their trip to Las Vegas had been cut short, but they weren’t yet ready to return home. The girls just want to have fun! Just for kicks, they took jobs roasting chili peppers at a roadside stand on Route 66, east of Kingman. After a few days, they continued east to Flagstaff and the San Francisco Volcanic Field. Somehow, along the way, they acquired flags of the nations of Wales and Bhutan, each bearing the image of dragons which represented those countries. They carried these flags with them as they flew south to their homes in the Sonora Desert.

On a mild spring day in late March, Ramóna and Desdemona, peripatetic damsel dragons, had just returned to their homeland in the Sonoran Desert. They gamboled atop Mica Mountain just east of the human community called Tucson. The dragon dyad ran, jumped, and flew as they shot fireballs between the cumulus clouds. Both were adept at blowing and aiming fireballs; such a shot was worth one point. The five-pointer required more skill – blow a fireball, but grab it in their scrawny forelimbs, and throw it like a basketball between the clouds. Ah, but the game-winning shot, worth twenty-five points, was the most challenging –blow a fireball, immediately spin around, and smack the ball with their tails. Only the best players could master this shot, but even they failed at the ultimate challenge – launch the fireball high into a cumulonimbus cloud and trigger a flash of lightning and a roar of thunder.

On the Italian Springs Trail below the summit, a solitary hiker paused, perplexed. What was that noise coming from the mountaintop? It sounded like an intense thunderstorm, yet there were no thunder clouds insight. The ground even trembled a bit. Earthquake? Volcanic eruption? Neither cataclysm seemed likely, since these mountains were metamorphic in nature. Still, he considered speeding back down to the trailhead, getting in his car, and getting the H out of Dodge. He rejected that thought; Woody Gifford Pinchot was here to enjoy Nature, not to turn tail and run.

A few days earlier, on St. Patrick’s Day, Woody sat at the bar in a comfortable tavern. His drink for this day was a “Black & Tan”, a layered beer cocktail consisting of eight ounces of Bass Pale Ale for the tan layer, topped with another eight ounces of Guiness Draught which formed the black layer. Woody was floating in a pleasant haze when a small, odd-looking man in a well-tailored green suit sat down on the stool beside him and ordered a Bushmills. Woody introduced himself; his new companion said his name was Lorcan Laverty. A five-member band played Irish tunes from a corner of the barroom.

Soon, the two were engaged in pleasant conversation; indeed, the newcomer exhibited the traditional Irish ‘gift of gab’. Woody said he was from Colorado and that he was visiting southern Arizona to get away from the wet, cold, snowy weather of his home state in the springtime. Lorcan said he was a leprechaun who worked for Security at a Las Vegas casino. He was in pursuit of two dragons who were suspected of cheating the casino out of half-a-million dollars. “Ah, but let us speak of more pleasant things.”

The leprechaun went on to praise the forests of the nearby Rincon Mountains. There a visitor can begin a trek from the northern part of the Sonoran Desert with its saguaro cacti and desert scrublands. As the visitor climbs into the higher elevations, he enters woodlands of pine and oak and then pine forests and mixed conifer woodlands. Animals include the Mexican spotted owl, the javelina, and gray foxes.

Now, a few days later, Woody hesitated on the steep mountain trail. The previous night, he had pitched camp at a permitted site at the Italian Springs trailhead. This morning, he had arisen with the dawn, had a hearty breakfast, and set out in the cool morning air on his quest to reach the summit of Mica Mountain before noon. Although the trail was challenging, he had enjoyed a pleasant morning. A marmot, yellow belly and all, had whistled a warning to his neighbors as Woody walked by. Magpies and tassel-eared squirrels had squabbled noisily over seed-filled spruce cones. A Hairy Woodpecker hammered away at an oak trunk as it sought insects for its meal.

But now, Woody wondered what danger might lie ahead. He again considered abandoning his quest and seeking a more halcyon spot. No, he decided to face whatever might be on the mountain top.

Woody was dumbstruck when he entered the clearing on Mica Mountain’s summit. Two dragons were launching fireballs into the sky! They seemed to be competing in some sort of athletic competition! One of them spotted their visitor and stopped abruptly. What was a human doing here? She spoke to him hesitantly in broken human language. “Wh-wh-why are you here? Who are you? Please don’t hurt us!”

Woody spoke quietly, gently. He used comforting tones, as he would if he were facing any scared, yet dangerous, animal. “My name is Woody Pinchot. I am here because I love the mountains, the trees, the clean air, and all the animals. I am very surprised, but also very happy and excited, to find two dragons here.” Desdemona made a dismissive, hostile “Hunh!” sound. Ramóna, on the other hand, seemed friendly. “My name is Ramóna. This is my BFF Desdemona. We live in the desert near here. Like you, we also love the mountains.”

Just then, Lorcan, in his natty green suit, appeared, seemingly out of thin air. “Ha! I’ve caught you now! You thought you could steal my gold from the casino and get away with it? Ha! Not a chance!” “Who the hashbrowns are you? What are you talking about? We haven’t stolen anything from anybody! And what is that ugly animal you’re riding?” “That’s Toby, my wolpertinger. And don’t you go saying nasty things about it, you thief!” “What do you want?” “I want my gold, my lucre, my wealth, my treasure! I want to punish you for stealing it from me!” “Well, calm down, you green-clad homunculus! We don’t have your gold. We haven’t stolen anything. And who are you, anyway?”

“My name is Lorcan. I’m in charge of Security at my uncle’s casino. Do you deny you’re the dragon in this video?” The leprechaun took a tablet out of Toby's saddlebag, which the dragons had to squint to see, and showed them a video of a young damsel dragon walking into the casino. Much like Ramóna and Desdemona, she had glittery scales and fiery green eyes. But it was clearly a different dragon; her tail was thinner and her claws were painted cobalt blue. "This is the dragon that swindled us," he hissed. "Does she look familiar to you?"

Desdemona snorted a puff of black smoke. “Yeah, actually she does. That’s my cousin Obsidia. She’s a no-good rascal, an evil-doer.”