Mini-Myth: The Uninvited Guests

You wake up in a terrible mood.

There’s no particular reason. Everything is irritating. The sunlight is too bright. The house is too quiet. Even your coffee tastes wrong.

Your dragon watches you finish a second cup and helpfully pushes the pot closer.

“Don’t bother,” you grumble. “All the coffee in the world won’t fix this.”

You decide to get away. To have brunch somewhere quiet and secluded, where nobody will bother you. Just a relaxing outing for you and your dragon. You pack sandwiches, fruit, and honey cake—okay, two honey cakes—then find a quiet clearing beside a stream.

Perfect. There’s not another soul in sight.

You’ve barely unpacked when a squirrel appears, chattering furiously from a nearby branch.

“Oh, what now?” you demand, irritated. Still irritated, that is.

With a jab of its tail, the squirrel indicates an acorn lodged between two rocks. You reluctantly free the acorn, earning an enthusiastic squeak from the noisy nuisance. Your dragon applauds with a flutter of his little wings.

You’re halfway through a sandwich when a hedgehog waddles into the clearing, dragging a leafy vine twice her length. It’s tangled in her spines, leaves poking out of her fur and scrubbing the path behind her. Your dragon rushes to help, only to become tangled himself.

Ridiculous! You rescue them both, laughing despite yourself. You eye the dragon suspiciously. Was his foolishness intentional?

Two elderly tortoises emerge from the ferns, slowly making their way toward you. One bears a little basket strapped to his shell. The other wears a rather magnificent sunhat. They stop beside your picnic blanket and exchange a look.

“Oh, don’t tell me,” you say.

The tortoise with the basket gives you a hopeful smile.

You glance at your dragon. He’s already making room.

“Well,” you say, “I suppose there’s enough blanket for everyone.”

The tortoises settle in and begin unpacking their basket. Very, very slowly. By the time they’ve produced a loaf of fresh bread, a wedge of cheese, and a jar of blackberry preserves, your dragon has eaten half a honey cake.

You share the rest, along with your sandwiches and fruit. The squirrel returns with more acorns. The hedgehog demonstrates an impressive talent for rolling downhill, and your dragon insists on trying it himself.

Soon everyone is laughing, even the tortoises.

By the time you notice long shadows stretching across the clearing, brunch is gone and your cheeks ache from smiling. You say goodbye to your new friends and follow the woodland path home.

The afternoon is wonderfully peaceful. Golden leaves drift overhead, and the breeze carries the soft music of the stream. Your dragon nudges your hand and looks up at you with a contented smile.

“That was a lovely day, wasn’t it?”

Your dragon giggles, and you squeeze his little paw.

“Same time tomorrow?”