G*guh was a stuborn dragon. Which, to be frank, was not unexpected, if only because dragons are always stubborn. Besides, ruling over such a wealthy family as the Ñihea, for more than two centuries at that, would get anyone at least a little self-important. Known by all in the village, she was heavily involved in politics, and had been for the last hundred years. She was one of the oldest, and by far the largest and loudest drake in town, to her pride and her daughters' embarassment.

The epidemic began with winter. As the first rumours spread, G*guh shrugged them off. "Bah!" she would say. "Just a cold fire is all, no one ever died of it!". She'd scoff at the neighboring town when she heard they had ordered firebreathers to stay at home when presenting cold fire symptoms, and to hide their nostril behind a mask when not producing flames. What for? Cold fires were caught breathing dust, after all.

Of course, when people started to catch cold fire around here, she didn't really feel concerned either. Why would she? She was so tall, and so strong. No chance she'd be in trouble from just a cold fire, no matter her age. In fact, she was much more concerned by the means raised to stop the epidemic.

"Have you seen my size? Do you realize how much air I'm supposed to take in at every breath? No, I cannot afford to clog my nostril like you smaller drakes can".

No, she didn't like those regulations. She had spent decades building the town into a wealthy, productive hub, and she feared they were undoing things she fought for throughout her whole life. Besides, there were talks around her that the regulations were actually responsible for bringing misery to the village, much more so than this alleged epidemic itself. So what if some drakes couldn't breath fire for a while? Just put some blankets on and go on! Don't let that keep you down!

Of course, she eventually caught it.

Her family took a while to notice the symptoms. Sometimes, a child would ask “G*guh, please, make us a firework!”, or “Please, gran-gran! Tell us a smoke-story!”. She would say no, explaining she was tired, or that she had dust in her firesack. Of course in the context, this should have put everyone alert; Alas, one might say the family follows its master, and her children or servants were, too, in denial.

Oddly enough, things became obvious when D*glim, her husband, got ill. In his very first days of cold fire, he mentioned it to the family. D*glim being almost as old as G*guh, they were mortified, and offered to act immediately. He was barely a fourth of his wife's length, and thus was quickly loosing heat. More worried about her husband than she was about concealing her own state, the great dragon offered to heat up her darling with her own heat. D*glim accepted happily, but brutally recoiled just as he touched his wife. She was stone cold.

This time, she couldn't get away with it. She was surrounded, had some explaining to do.

"How long have you been without fire, G*guh?"

"Yeah mom, how long has it been?"

"Last week I heard you tell the kids you had breathed some sawdust in, were you already ill?"

"Last week? Hell, I haven't seen her flame in at least ten days!"

Finally cornered, she admitted: "Okay, fine, fine! It's been about three weeks."

"THREE WEEKS?!" they cried out at once.

"Well, twenty three days actually. But it's not a big deal! It's just a cold fire, never killed anyone. Has it?" 

They didn't answer.

Over the following days, the old dragon kept trying to act normal. She would still help with the cooking, chatter with the harem, give some direction and advice to the crew.  She would even often be seen without any blanket, to her family's dismay. Hell, she even still went outside in the middle of winter! She wanted to act strong. She wouldn't let them call doctors.

Soon, though, it was impossible to hide how badly her health was deteriorating. She walked slower, talked slower, slept often. Finally, after one more week in that lethargic state, they acted. She was forcibly put under a few dozen blankets and curled around the house's biggest chimney, permanently opened, while her daughter Dimah called the family doctor. G*guh wasn't even really able to complain.

The first doctor who visited looked tired. She was. The epidemy was raging all over town, more drakes required attention than she expected. Still, she did look surprised upon looking at the old dragon, like she was gazing at a dead drake walking. She offered what help and heating-ointments she could, and tended to D*glim. She seemedmore optimistic for him than his wife.

It took him five weeks, but D*glim slowly got better. He came out diminished, but warm. G*guh, though, didn't. Keeping a twelve-meter dragon from loosing heat was one thing, warming up an already cold, fifty-meter one was a whole other. The problem when you are that large is that once you lost your heat, really lost it, no one can give it back to you.

Doctors came and went around G*guh. They could never stay long, though. The epidemic was raging, and many drakes were suffering from the prolonged cold fire and its consequences. Everyone needed medical attention, and there were far from enough doctors in town.

Winter was ending, when G*guh took a decision. The doctors weren't making any progress, and she knew they were spending too much time tending to her. She also knew they would never accept to leave her, even if she asked. So she dealt with things herself. One night, as the last snow of the year was falling on Ñihea mansion, she seize the absence of her family around her, and walked outside. There, curled up in the yard, the cold finally embraced her.

G*guh was a very kind, compassionate, and strong dragon. Alas, she also was a stubborn one.