The Shy Dragon Shares

Pip bent low. The grass brushed his cheeks. He could hear the friends talking, and he could smell the warm treats. He wanted to step out. He wanted to stay hidden. Both wishes tugged at him.

He tried to lift the basket and move along the path.

The basket scraped over a stone.

Clink, clink.

Pip stopped again. A pair of rabbits hopped across the path, carrying tiny napkins. A family of field mice walked behind them with spoons. The path seemed full of paws, tails, wings, and bright little cups.

Pip backed into the grass.

“I cannot get through,” he whispered.

The basket slipped lower in his paws. His arms began to ache.

A small mouse turned toward the grass. Pip held still.

But the mouse only picked a daisy and hurried on.

Pip let out a slow breath. The air smelled of mint and cool earth. His scales warmed beneath his wings.

He looked at the basket. He had made a promise to bring it. The promise felt important. Yet the path felt wide and busy, and Pip felt very small.

He tried another way.

Keeping low, he carried the basket around the meadow’s edge. The grass was softer there, but the ground dipped near the blanket. Pip took one careful step down.

The basket tipped.

“Oh!”

He caught it before it fell. The cloth inside slid to one side. A few apple slices bumped together with a soft tap.

Pip sat down on the grass. He placed the basket beside him and rubbed his paws.

A quiet voice inside him said, You do not have to carry it all at once.

Pip looked at the basket. Then he looked at the picnic blanket.

He could carry one treat at a time. But that might take a long while. He could ask someone to help. The thought made his cheeks grow hot.

What if they said no?

Pip picked up one star biscuit. It was warm from the cloth and smelled like butter. He held it close.

“Maybe I can give this one,” he whispered.

His voice sounded so small that the crickets nearly covered it.

Pip stood. He stepped from the grass and walked toward the blanket. One step. Then another.

The friends saw him.

“There is Pip!” called a cheerful voice.

Pip stopped.

Every face turned toward him. The moon shone on their eyes. No one looked angry. No one looked impatient. Still, Pip’s wings pressed tight against his back.

He held the star biscuit out.

“I brought this,” he said.

The friend nearest the blanket smiled. “It is lovely. May I help carry the basket?”

Pip looked down at the basket. Help. That was what he needed. But his paws tightened around the handle.

“I can carry it,” he said quickly.

He lifted it.

The basket pulled hard on his arms. Pip leaned back. The path seemed to wobble beneath his feet.

“I mean…” He swallowed. “Could you walk beside me?”

“Of course,” said the friend.

The friend moved slowly beside him, leaving plenty of room. Together they took three steps.

Then a little breeze slipped across the meadow.

The basket cloth fluttered. Pip tried to hold it down with one paw while keeping the handle in the other. The basket tilted.

Plop.

A berry bun rolled onto the grass.

Pip gasped.

The bun stopped beside a clump of clover. Its soft top had a small green blade stuck to it.

“Oh no,” Pip said. “I spilled one.”

He knelt at once. The basket rested against his knee. The other friends began to gather near the blanket, but they did not crowd him.

Pip brushed the grass from the bun. It was still whole. He held it in both paws.

“I am sorry,” he said. “There may not be enough now.”

The friend beside him shook their head. “One bun is still one bun.”

“But there are many of you,” Pip said. “What if everyone wants the same thing?”

A quiet hush settled around the blanket. The crickets sang on. Somewhere near the apple tree, a leaf made a soft scratching sound.

Then one friend picked up a cup.

“We can take turns,” they said. “And we can choose what we like.”

Another friend nodded. “We can cut the buns in half.”

Pip blinked.

The treats had seemed like a puzzle with no answer. Now the friends were making room for one another, just as they had made room for him on the path.

He looked at the basket. There were still honey cakes, apple slices, berry buns, and star biscuits inside. Not enough for everyone to have a whole basketful. But perhaps enough for everyone to have a little taste.

Pip’s paws loosened.

“I could share the star biscuits first,” he said. “There are three.”

“And I could share the apple slices,” said one friend.

“I can pass the cups,” said another.

Pip felt a small warm glow under his scales. He had thought sharing meant giving away everything at once. Maybe sharing could also mean making a little room, choosing together, and noticing what each friend needed.

He carried the basket the last few steps. This time, the friend walked on one side, and another friend walked on the other. The path was still crowded, but it did not feel quite so wide.

At the blanket, Pip lowered the basket.

His paws trembled.

He took a breath that smelled of honey and grass. Then he lifted the cloth.

“Here,” he said. His voice shook, but it reached the whole meadow. “These are for everyone.”

The friends smiled.

Pip picked up a star biscuit and placed it on a small plate. Then he reached for another.

His paw shook again.

A honey cake bumped the basket’s edge.

Plop.

Two apple slices slipped out and landed on the grass. Then a berry bun rolled after them, stopping near Pip’s foot.

Pip stared at the treats.

For one moment, he wished the grass would grow tall around him again.

But no one laughed. No one hurried him. The friend beside him simply picked up a clean napkin.

“We can rinse the apple slices,” they said. “And the bun is still safe on the cloth.”

Pip lifted the treats carefully. His hands still shook, but he did not hide them.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

He placed the clean treats on the plate. Then he set the star biscuits in the middle of the blanket, where everyone could see them.

The meadow friends sat in a circle. Pip sat at the edge at first, with his tail curled around his feet. The moon painted a pale stripe along his bronze nose.

“Which treat should we try first?” asked a friend.

Pip looked at the basket. He looked at the circle.

“The star biscuits,” he said. “They are shaped like the moon.”

Everyone chose one small piece. Pip broke a biscuit in half and offered one piece to the friend beside him. The friend broke it again, and soon the golden biscuit had become tiny bites for the circle.

Pip tasted his piece. It was crisp and sweet.

The basket was not full anymore. A few treats had spilled. Some had been broken into smaller pieces. But every friend had something to taste, and the blanket felt bright with quiet voices and happy sounds.

Pip’s paws rested in his lap.

He had reached the meadow. He had offered the basket. He had even let others help him carry it.

The grass still held a few crumbs, sparkling in the moonlight. Pip gathered them onto a napkin, and the friends helped him brush the last crumbs from the cloth.

His hands had trembled, but he had shared anyway.

Pip smiled a small, shy smile.

Sharing does not mean having enough for everything; it means making room so everyone can have something.

End of chapter one. 6 more chapters in the full book.