The Dragon Who Mended the Wind

On the edge of a quiet harbour stood a little lighthouse. In a cave beneath it lived Rimu, a young dragon with copper-coloured wings. Rimu could breathe warm sparks, though they were not as powerful as the flames in old dragon tales. He worried that this left him with little to offer. One blustery afternoon, a red kite became tangled in the lighthouse weather vane. Its string stretched down towards the rocks, where a child named Maia was trying to reach it. The wind tugged harder, and the kite’s tail began to tear. Rimu hurried out of his cave. He did not breathe fire. Instead, he beat his strong wings gently, making a calm pocket of air around the kite. The string loosened. Maia caught it safely, and the kite floated down into her hands. “You didn’t need a huge flame,” Maia said. “Your wings were exactly what we needed.” Rimu smiled. From then on, he watched the harbour on windy days. He still practised making flames, but he no longer thought that was the only thing a dragon could do.

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