Once upon a timeâor perhaps twice, because Zog was the kind of dragon who lived twice as much as anyone elseâthere was a shimmering trail of Time-Mist. Now, Zog was an emerald green dragon with a body shaped like a very large pear and wings that were, frankly, a bit too small for his enthusiasm. He was flying through the clouds, his wings going flap-flap-flutter-flap, when suddenlyâWhoosh!âthe mist thinned out, his tail gave a little wiggle, and he tumbled straight down through time.
Down he went, past the clouds and over the endless, rolling grass of the Great Plains. Thump! Zog landed on his round bottom, right in the middle of a row of tall, swaying grass. He shook his velvety orange horns and looked around. Do you know what he saw? He saw a line of giant white mushrooms on wheels crawling across the land. But they weren't mushrooms at all! They were covered wagons, and inside them were people traveling to a new home far, far away.
Zog hid behind a hill, his amber eyes wide. He watched the pioneers. They looked very tired. Their boots were dusty, and their faces were tight with worry. Zog wanted to go say hello and maybe show them the shiny pebbles in his leather satchel, but he stopped. 'What if they see my scales?' he whispered. 'What if they see my teeth and think Iâm a scary monster instead of a friendly dragon?' He adjusted the golden band on his tail and waited, his heart going thud-thud, thud-thud.
As the sun began to tuck itself under the horizon, the sky turned a bruised purple. Then, the wind started to howlâWooooo! A 'Black Blizzard' of dust and ice swept across the prairie. The pioneers scrambled to make a camp. They circled their wagons into a big, protective âOâ. But the Wood was damp, the grass was frozen, and the air was so cold it felt like little needles on the skin. A young girl named Martha, who was exactly eight years old (just like some of you!), knelt by a pile of sticks. She held a piece of flint and a bit of iron. Clink. Clink. Clink. She tried and tried, but her fingers were shaking so hard from the cold that the spark wouldn't catch. 'Please,' she whispered, 'just one little flame.'
Zog watched from the shadows. He could feel the cold too, but inside his round belly, there was a tiny, glowing pilot light that never went out. He saw the shivering children and the weary mules. He saw Marthaâs sad face. He knew he couldn't stay hidden. 'Itâs time to be brave, Zog,' he told himself. He stood up on his sturdy legs and began his bouncy, slightly clumsy walk toward the wagons. Bounce, stomp, bounce, stomp.
When he stepped into the light of the camp, everyone froze. Pa Miller grabbed a rope, and the mules let out a long Heee-haw! They had never seen an emerald dragon before. But Martha looked into Zogâs warm amber eyes. She saw his tiny, fluttering wings and the heart-shaped scales on his shoulder. She didn't see a monster; she saw a friend. 'Look,' she said softly, pointing to his snout. Zog didn't roar. Instead, he leaned down toward the damp wood, scrunched up his nose, and took a deep, deep breath. Hooooooo...
And thenâPuf! Out came a gentle, shimmering amber glow. It wasn't a scary fire-blast that would burn the wagons. It was a soft, steady warmth, like a hug made of light. The damp wood began to hiss and crackleâSizzle! Pop! Within seconds, a beautiful, golden campfire was dancing in the middle of the circle. The heat spread out, warming the pioneers' toes, their fingers, and their frozen noses. Can you feel that warmth? Itâs the kind of heat that makes you want to drink cocoa and tell stories forever.
The pioneers realized Zog was there to help. They brought him a tin cup of cider (which he drank in one big gulp!) and told him tales of the long road. Zog stayed all night, leaning against a wagon wheel, his breath keeping the 'Everlasting Ember' burning bright against the winter wind. He felt more at home than he ever had in the Time-Mist. By the time the sun rose, the pioneers wrote about the 'Night of the Emerald Star' in their journals. Martha gave Zog a small, smooth stone to keep in his satchel, and with a happy wag of his tail, Zog took a running startâflutter-flutter-flap!âand headed back toward the mist. He wasn't just a dragon; he was a hero who knew that a little bit of warmth can change the whole world. And thatâs how it all turned out just right.