We’re following a path trodden by guides and tourists on an island inhabited by the genus Varanus. We’ve been walking for an hour and haven’t seen any dragons, only deer fleeing in panic at the sight of us and buffaloes grazing peacefully in the distance. The island’s scenic views make up for the lack of lizards. Only after a while do I realize why this landscape seems so different, out of a fairytale. There are no roads, no houses, no high voltage poles, no antennas, no windmills. There are lava lizards. One is in the thicket, almost completely invisible, another “smaller one” about two meters long is basking on a nearby rock. They seem so calm and lazy, ignoring us. They look like overgrown lizards from science fiction movies. An unsuccessful experiment must have turned a sweet, little lizard into a huge, deadly creature. No one stands a chance with a dragon, even if you manage to rip yourself loose of its jaws, rejoicing in freedom, the venom and toxins from its saliva will finish the work later, and the victim will die.