The dragon afraid of the dark

Ember was a dragon like any other, except for one thing: he was afraid of the dark. By day, he breathed flames as tall as three fir trees and could melt the snow off his rock just by yawning. But the moment the sun dipped behind the ridge, he burrowed to the back of his cave and pulled his wing over his head.

"A dragon afraid of the dark, whoever heard of such a thing," grumbled his grandfather, a mountain of old grey scales. Ember knew it too, and that didn't help one bit. Every night, the shadows in the cave turned into claws and teeth, and even though he knew they were just rocks, his heart still galloped.

One night, a small owl named Hooter landed on his rock. "Why don't you sleep outside with the other dragons?" she asked. Ember admitted everything, very quietly, like a secret too heavy to keep. Hooter didn't laugh. She tilted her head and simply said: "Did you know you're the only creature on this mountain who can light herself up?"

Ember had never thought of it that way. Hooter showed him how to let a tiny flame dance at the tip of his tongue, no bigger than a candle, just enough to trace the familiar shape of his cave in the dark. The claws turned back into rocks, the teeth turned back into stalactites, and his heart stopped galloping.

Since that night, Ember always sleeps with his little flame lit at the tip of his tongue, like a nightlight. The other dragons find it a bit odd, but none of them has ever slept as soundly as he does. And his grandfather, quietly, lit one too.