In a cave at the top of Thistle Hill lived a young dragon named Pebble.
Pebble was small and grey and round, exactly like his name. He had a stubby tail, two small wings, and a secret he had never told anyone.
Pebble was afraid of the dark.
Every night, when the sun slipped behind the hill and the cave went black, Pebble’s heart went thumpity-thump. He would squeeze his eyes shut tight, and wait, and wait, and wait for morning.
“Dragons aren’t supposed to be afraid,” he told himself. “Dragons are big and brave.” But Pebble was not big. And in the dark, he did not feel brave at all.
One evening, an old dragon called Ashwing came to rest in the cave next door. She was enormous, with scales like old copper pennies, and she had lived a very long time.
She heard Pebble’s heart going thumpity-thump through the wall.
“Little one,” she rumbled, “why are you awake?”
Pebble was too tired to keep his secret. “I don’t like the dark,” he whispered. “I can’t see anything, and I don’t know what’s there.”
Ashwing was quiet for a moment. Then she said something Pebble did not expect.
“Do you know why dragons have fire?”
Pebble thought about it. “To be scary?”
“No,” said Ashwing. “That is what people think. But that is not what it is for. Come. Breathe out. Gently — just a little.”
Pebble took a breath, and let it out slow. A small orange flame curled from his nose, no bigger than a candle.
And the cave lit up.
Not all of it — just a soft circle around him. But in the circle Pebble could see his own two feet. He could see the smooth stone floor. He could see Ashwing’s kind old eyes, and the wall, and the little crack where a spider had built a tidy web.
Nothing scary. Just his cave, exactly as it always was.
“That is what fire is for,” said Ashwing softly. “Every dragon carries a little light inside. So that when the dark comes, we are never really in it.”
Pebble looked at his small flame for a long time. Then he let it go out — and this time, the dark didn’t feel so big. Because he knew the light was still inside him, waiting, whenever he needed it.
He curled up on the smooth stone floor. His heart went thump… thump… slow and calm.
“Goodnight, Ashwing,” he yawned.
“Goodnight, little light,” said the old dragon.
And if the dark ever feels too big for you tonight — remember Pebble. You have a little light inside too. It has always been there. And it always will be.
🌙 The End 🌙
Sweet dreams, little one.
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