The Dragon Who Was Afraid of Butterflies

How it begins

Ember could lift a bread oven with one claw.

In the window, his opening-hours sign swung on a ribbon. Today it seemed to be asking an unusually difficult question.

He could toast a thousand buns with one careful breath.

He could not open the bakery door when a butterfly was sitting on the handle.

"It is very small," he told himself.

The butterfly opened its wings.

Ember stepped behind a sack of flour.

Outside, Luma the moth was planting daisies in the window box. Her soft wings brushed the leaves as she reached for another seedling.

"Good morning," she called.

"Possibly," Ember said from behind the flour.

Luma looked at the butterfly, then at the enormous red tail sticking out beside the sack.

She did not laugh.

"Would you like me to move the pot farther from the door?"

"Would the butterfly mind?"

"We can give it somewhere nicer to sit."

Ember peered over the sack.

On the counter stood his newest cake, covered in sugar flowers. He had made them very realistic. Apparently the garden agreed.

Three more butterflies floated toward the window.

Ember lowered himself behind the flour again.

"I may have made a marketing mistake."

Luma carried a pot of bright flowers to the low wall. The butterfly followed. She left a clear space beside the bakery entrance and waited.

"You don't have to come outside," she said. "We could begin with looking."

Ember looked.

The butterfly settled on a yellow petal. It folded its wings. Nothing chased him. Nothing asked him to prove how large his teeth were.

He moved one claw toward the doorway.

Then he stopped.

"That's enough for now," he said.

Luma nodded.

Inside the bakery, the cake smelled of oranges and warm sugar. Outside, the small wings shone in the morning light.

For the first time, Ember wondered whether both things could belong to a perfectly good day.