"Grandmother," the dragon said. "I will have to put you down."
Mrs Pa looked at the landscape beneath her, unfolding at speed. She should be blown about all over the place, yet the high airs of Hell were windless and still, as if Precious Dragon flew through a vacuum.
"I don't have a parachute," she said.
She thought she felt the dragon smile. "You won't need one."
He veered upward, coiling through the yellow clouds. Far ahead, Mrs Pa saw a platform.
"What's that?" she asked.
"You'll be safe there," Precious Dragon said. As he flew alongside, Mrs Pa saw that the platform was large, and that people were standing on it, holding parasols. They wore red and gold; they were women with quiet, grave faces. Several of them ran forward to take her hands and pull her onto the platform.
"I will see you soon, Grandmother," the dragon said. The gleaming back curved as the dragon dived.
"Be careful!" Mrs Pa shouted over the edge of the platform, and his voice came back, faint now:
"I will!"