That dragon-shaped shadow was definitely being cast by a dragon-shaped rock and not a real dragon. The only dragon story Ishmael had heard from the mercenary guards of the merchant caravans had been told with a generous helping of snickering and sideways glances, and even that one had taken place on the lowest level of the Dungeon known to horses. There was absolutely no reason for Ishmael not to trot around the corner, get a look at the cool rock formation, and carry on his merry way. ...