The Shy Dragon Shares

Lila turned toward the sound of Pip’s claws on the earth.

Pip ducked behind the tree.

His tail bumped the trunk.

Thump.

Lila looked around. “Hello?”

Pip held very still. A leaf drifted down and landed on his nose. It tickled, but he did not sneeze.

“Is someone behind the tree?” Lila asked.

Pip wanted to say no. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to become a pebble until the picnic was over.

At last, he whispered, “Maybe.”

Lila’s voice stayed soft. “Maybe is a good start.”

Pip slowly leaned out. His horns appeared first, then his eyes, then the rest of his round, orange face.

Lila smiled, but she did not rush over. “Hi, Pip.”

“Hi,” Pip said.

“You can come closer if you want. Or you can stay there for a while.”

Pip looked at the blanket. The honey cakes sat in a neat row. “I wanted a snack.”

“That makes sense,” said Lila. “Picnics are good places for snacks.”

Pip’s cheeks warmed. “I thought there might be one for me.”

“There is.” Lila lifted the basket’s blue cloth. “I brought enough for everyone who comes by.”

Pip took a step toward the blanket, then stopped. “Everyone?”

“Everyone.”

The word felt big. Pip glanced at the open basket. If he took a cake, Lila might watch him chew. If he took two, she might think he was greedy. If he took none, his tummy would keep rumbling.

He moved closer.

The blanket’s edge curled beneath his foot. He carefully stepped over it and sat beside the basket. The cloth smelled of clean cotton and sunshine. A warm breeze touched the little scales along his neck.

Lila sat on the other side of the basket. “You may choose.”

Pip studied the food. Round biscuits. Red berries. Honey cakes with shiny sugar stars.

He reached for a honey cake.

His claw hovered above it.

Lila looked away, giving him room. Pip picked up the cake and held it close. It was soft and warm from the sun.

He took a little bite.

Honey melted on his tongue. His wings relaxed.

“That is very good,” he said.

Lila nodded. “I hoped it would be.”

Pip looked at the other cakes. He imagined placing one in Lila’s hand. He imagined her smiling. He imagined his claw reaching out.

His chest tightened instead.

“What if I want another?” he asked.

“Then you can ask,” Lila said.

Pip swallowed. “What if I want to take one for later?”

“You can ask that, too.”

Pip looked down at his toes. “What if I want to share, but I feel too shy?”

Lila picked up a red berry and rolled it gently between her fingers. “You could start with something small.”

“Small?”

“A little piece. A quiet offer. You do not have to make a big speech.”

Pip thought about that. A little piece sounded possible. A quiet offer sounded possible, too.

He reached for another honey cake, but his claw caught the edge of the basket. The basket tipped toward him. Biscuits slid against one another with a soft, scratchy sound.

Pip grabbed the handle.

The basket wobbled.

“Oh!” he cried.

Lila caught the other side. Together, they steadied it.

For one moment, Pip saw every treat at once. The honey cakes. The berries. The biscuits. So many bright, delicious things.

Then he pictured all the eyes in the meadow turning toward him, even though there were only Lila’s eyes and the sleepy eyes of a butterfly resting on a flower.

“I should put it away,” Pip said.

“Would that help?” Lila asked.

Pip nodded quickly. “If it is away, no one can see me choosing.”

Lila did not tell him he was wrong. She only helped him set the basket flat again.

Pip picked up the blue cloth. He covered the food, one corner at a time. The bright treats disappeared beneath it.

He felt safer.

He also felt a little lonely.

Lila watched him tuck the cloth around the basket. “You do not have to hide the food to be safe with me.”

Pip’s claws paused.

“I know,” he said, though he was not sure he did.

Lila placed one berry on the cloth. “You could leave one thing where you can see it.”

Pip stared at the berry. It looked like a tiny red lantern.

He took it and held it out to her.

“For you,” he whispered.

Lila’s smile grew warm. She accepted the berry with both hands. “Thank you, Pip.”

The tight feeling in his chest loosened. It did not vanish all at once, but it made room for a small, quiet glow.

“You are welcome,” Pip said.

Lila ate the berry. “It tastes sweeter when someone shares it.”

Pip touched the empty place where the berry had been. “Did it?”

“It did to me.”

A breeze moved through the tree. Leaves whispered overhead. The meadow smelled of grass, flowers, and honey.

Pip reached under the cloth and chose one biscuit for himself. He nibbled it slowly. Then he chose a honey cake and tucked it beneath his wing.

Lila noticed.

Pip’s face grew hot again. He lifted the cloth and pushed the rest of the basket farther behind him.

“Pip?” Lila asked.

“I only wanted one for later,” he said. “The others can stay hidden.”

Lila looked at the basket, then at Pip. “That is okay. You can save one.”

Pip let out a breath.

“But,” Lila added, “may I have one, too?”

Pip looked at her.

The question was gentle. It did not sound like a demand. It did not make his wings feel trapped.

Still, his claw held tightly to the honey cake under his wing.

He had wanted a snack without feeling embarrassed about sharing. He had taken one. He had offered one tiny berry. That felt like a lot.

But Lila was sitting beside him, waiting kindly.

Pip lifted the blue cloth.

A row of honey cakes shone in the sunlight.

He chose the smallest one. Then he broke it in half. The cake crumbled a little, and a golden drop of honey stuck to his claw.

“This half is for you,” he said.

Lila accepted it. “Thank you.”

Pip watched her take a bite.

She closed her eyes for a moment. “Mmm.”

Pip smiled before he could stop himself.

He took a bite of his half. The honey was sweet, and the cake was soft. Sharing had not made it disappear. It had made the picnic feel warmer.

They sat beneath the big tree while the leaves whispered above them. Lila poured Pip a little cup of cool water. Pip held it carefully between his claws and listened to the tiny splash.

“Would you like to play a quiet game?” Lila asked.

Pip nodded. “A quiet game sounds nice.”

They made small towers from the biscuits that were meant for later. Pip used the round ones, and Lila used the square ones. When a tower leaned, they steadied it together. When one fell, they laughed softly and built it again.

Pip kept the basket close. He tucked the remaining treats under the blue cloth, then peeked at them every few moments.

Lila did not tease him. She simply reached for a biscuit and left one beside Pip.

After a while, Pip placed a berry on the blanket between them.

“For later,” he said.

Lila placed a biscuit beside it. “For later.”

The two snacks rested together in the sun.

Pip’s wings settled against his back. The meadow no longer felt too wide. The picnic blanket no longer felt like a stage. It felt like a small, safe island beneath the friendly tree.

He had taken a snack. He had saved another. He had shared a little.

Then Lila glanced at the basket and said, “Pip, may I have some of the treats you tucked away?”

Pip looked at the covered basket.

His first thought was to pull it closer.

His second was to remember Lila’s warm smile.

He placed one claw on the blue cloth and began to lift it. “Yes,” he said softly. “You may have some.”

End of chapter one. 4 more chapters and about 8,135 words in the full book.