by Lou Kuenzler
“I’m not sure,’ said Hetty. “But you know what a baby he is.”
Flump sniffed among the flowers with his bottom high in the air and his nose low to the ground. His tail was clamped tight between his legs.
“He really doesn’t like the smell of something,” said Grace.
“Perhaps it’s all these flowers,” laughed Hetty. “But he’s probably just looking for food.” She whistled and the huge dog came bounding towards them. “You can have something to eat in a minute. I brought cinnamon buns – I know they’re your favourite.”
“First we have teach you to canter, Hetty,” said Grace, nearly falling over as Flump wound himself between her legs. “That means it’s time for Billy to stop thinking about eating too.”
She showed Hetty how to trot in a circle and then squeeze her legs so that the unicorn rocked forward and cantered gently around the ring.
“You’re doing it,” cried Grace. “I told you you’d be a natural.”
Grace even taught the younger girl how to do a figure of eight and crisscross the ring without breaking Billy’s stride. Then she had a quick canter herself – she just couldn’t resist having a go on the soft green grass – before they loosened Billy’s girth and let him have a proper rest.
Hetty lifted the silver dragon horn and peered inside. “I thought we might get hungry,” she explained rolling up her sleeves. “So I brought some homemade elderflower cordial.” She produced a green glass bottle, wrapped in a soft cloth, from deep inside the horn. “And I baked some cinnamon buns too.”
“You baked these?” asked Grace, licking the sugar from her lips as she took a bite of the soft bun.
“Yes,” blushed Hetty. “It’s easy, really. I do a lot of cooking because … well, because since my mum died, I’ve lived with Uncle Falcon on my own.”
“What about your dad?” asked Grace, gently. “Where is he?”
“I don’t even know who my dad is,” shrugged Hetty. “I think he was a sailor. Or maybe a pirate.” Her eyes sparkled for a second, but then a cloud passed over her face again. Hetty sniffed as she told Grace how her mum had drowned two years ago when her fishing boat had been caught in a storm at sea. “Mum always said she would tell me who my Dad was when I was older. But now I’ll never know. Uncle Falcon refuses to even talk about it.”
Grace held Hetty’s hand and told her how she had lost her mother too. The girls talked and talked.
“Look,” said Hetty. “Chalky has come back.”
Sure enough, the little white unicorn was staring at them from the edge of the trees.
Billy, who was still eating grass, raised his head and whinnied.
“And there’s his mum,” said Grace, who could just make out the dapple-grey shape of a unicorn mare further back in the gloom.
Hetty grinned, showing the big gap where she was missing a tooth. “I thought perhaps he was like us,” she said. “I thought perhaps…”
“Perhaps he didn’t have a mummy?” asked Grace, squeezing the little girl’s hand. “But he does. Look.”
“Yes,” Hetty peered into the trees, still grinning, then sprang suddenly to her feet. “Where’s Flump?” she asked. “He didn’t even come for the cinnamon buns. That’s not like him at all.”
There was no sign of the dog anywhere.
“Flump!” called Grace, jumping up too, and shouting as loudly as she could.
“Flump!” hollered Hetty. “Where are you?”
Chalky started at the sound of their voices, and crashed away through the trees after his mother.
“Let’s tie Billy somewhere safe,” said Grace. “We’ll search all around. Flump can’t have gone far.”
Hetty nodded. “He’s probably just scared himself somehow.”
Awoooooo! The girls froze as the air was filled with a frightened howl.
“That’s him!” cried Hetty.
Grace was already running towards the sound.
Awoooooo! Flump howled again.
“I’m coming!” shouted Grace. She dashed towards a hill that rose up behind the woods on the far side of the glade, sure that was where Flump’s cries were coming from. At the foot of the slope, almost hidden by the trees, she could see a long, steep ridge of rock covered in hanging ivy and vines.
Awooooooooo!
“Perhaps he’s been hurt,” said Grace. Wherever Flump was, the poor thing was in a terrible state – she could imagine the look of panic in his big, goofy eyes.
Awooooooooooooo! Awoooooooooooooooooooo!
“That’s odd.” Grace skidded to a stop with Hetty just behind her. “It sounds as if he’s inside the rock.” She stretched out her hands. At first she touched a solid wall of stone … but suddenly her fingers passed clean through the curtain of hanging ivy.
“There’s a cave behind here,” she gasped, lifting the vines and peering into the gloomy darkness beyond. She could just make out the shadow of a low ceiling and sharp jagged boulders on the floor.
Awoooooooo! Flump howled again. It was definitely coming from deep inside the cave.
“Poor thing. He sounds so scared,” said Hetty.
“He must be trapped in here somewhere,” said Grace edging into the gloom. “You stay in the glade with Billy. I’ll go and find him.”
Grace didn’t wait for Hetty to answer. She pushed aside a spider’s web and plunged into the darkness. Her heart was beating fast. She had to rescue the big, silly dog before he scared himself to death.
“I’m coming, Flump!” she called, boldly.
There was a scrabble of stones behind her.
“Who’s there?” Grace jumped, almost banging her head on the low ceiling of the cave.
“Only me,” said a tiny voice. Hetty grabbed Grace’s hand. “I’m coming too,” she said. “Billy will be all right. I tied him to a tree with the special safety knot you taught me.”
“You’d be much safer to wait outside,” said Grace. “Then you could run for help if…”
“Next you’re going to tell me I’m too little,” Hetty growled. “Well, I’m not.” She stood on tiptoes so the top of her head almost reached Grace’s shoulder. “I have to help find Flump. He hates it when I’m not around.”
Grace smiled to herself in the darkness. Hetty reminded her so much of her little sister, Princess Pip. They might be small, but they were very brave, and once they set their mind to something there was no point in trying to argue.
Grace couldn’t be cross; she knew she would feel exactly the same if it was Billy who was in danger. “Keep hold of me tight and be very careful, then,” she sighed.
Awoooooooo!
They followed Flump’s howls deeper and deeper into the gloom. There was just enough light to see that the cave was lined with rows of spikey rocks, sharp as teeth, pushing up from the floor, and hanging down from the ceiling too.
“Yikes! It’s like we’re standing inside a dragon’s mouth,” trembled Hetty.
“As long as that’s not dragon spit,” said Grace, as drips of water splashed on to their heads from the damp roof above.
They picked their way over the stony floor until the ceiling sloped so low that Grace could hardly stand up. She stretched out her hand and felt a cold, slimy wall of rock. She ran her fingers from side to side, feeling up and down.
“It’s the end of the cave,” she said. “But that’s impossible. Flump must be in here somewhere. We heard him so clearly.”
“What’s that?” Hetty pointed to a dim shaft of light no brighter than a candle, flickering between two of the huge tooth-like rocks.
Awooooooo! Flump howled again. The sound was definitely coming from the same direction as the light.
“Don’t let go of me,” Grace warned as they scrambled forward.
The glow was brighter now. Grace saw that the light was coming through a narrow slit in the wall.
“Daylight,” she gasped, as she glimpsed a thin sliver of blue sky. There was a smell of salt and the sound of waves crashing far below.
> “I think this is a back entrance to the cave,” said Grace, peering through the slit which was like a arrow hole in a castle wall. “It must come out somewhere on the cliffs.”
She ducked her head, to see if she could squeeze through.
Awooooooooo!
“Flump?” Hetty pushed Grace out of the way and tried to wriggle through the gap first. There was no doubt about it, the dog’s anxious howls were definitely coming from just the other side of the crack.
“Stop!” Grace grabbed the back of Hetty’s smock. “Don’t take another step,” she whispered urgently. “Look.”
Grace pointed with a shaking finger as three puffs of grey smoke floated through the gap towards them.
Awooooooooooooooo! Flump howled from the ledge outside.
Hufffffff. More smoke billowed through the crack.
“A dragon,” cried the girls together.
“How are we going to save Flump now?” wailed Hetty as the girls stood quivering in the cave. They couldn’t see anything through the narrow gap in the rock, but there was no doubt there was a dragon out there.
“The Coronet Crimson must have stayed on the island after all,” gulped Grace.
“Now she’s got Flump and she’s going to eat him,” bawled Hetty. “Oh, why didn’t anyone believe you when you said you’d seen a dragon, Grace?”
The little girl dashed forward as if she was going to squeeze through the gap and punch the dragon right on the end of its fiery nose.
“Don’t. She’ll gobble you up in one bite,” cried Grace, trying to grab Hetty. She caught hold of the horn, which was still strapped to the little girl’s back.
“Of course!” said Grace. “Isn’t this thing supposed to calm dragons down?”
“I think so,” said Hetty, her feet almost dangling in the air as Grace pulled her backwards with the horn.
“It has to be worth a try,” said Grace, hooking the instrument around her own neck. “I’m going to peek through the gap and see what’s going on. If I can rescue Flump, I will.”
“You’re not like other princesses,” whispered Hetty. “Uncle Falcon said you’re a disgrace … but that’s not true. You’re brilliant and brave and…” Hetty stood on tiptoes and kissed Grace’s cheek. “And I wish you were my big sister.”
Grace blushed so hard that she felt as if her face must be glowing bright red in the dark cave. “You stay well back,” she said firmly, trying to sound as strict as Fairy Godmother Flint. “And if there’s any trouble – any trouble at all – ride to Tall Towers and fetch help.”
She smiled for a second, trying not to think about her shaking knees, as she imagined what Precious’s face would look like if she saw Hetty galloping into the school courtyard on a royal unicorn shouting: “Help! We’ve found a dragon on the cliffs!” At least that would show her, once and for all, that Grace had been telling the truth!
It was no good, though. At the thought of the magnificent but terrifying creature she had seen the day she’d fallen out of the tree, Grace’s knees began to shake all the harder. If the dragon had seemed enormous when she was flying in the sky, what would she be like face to face?
Awoooooooo!
Another smoke ring floated through the gap.
Grace’s lips trembled, but she straightened her shoulders, lifted the instrument to her lips, and blew.
Nothing. Not a sound.
Grace pursed her lips and blew again, harder.
Still nothing.
She puffed out her cheeks, blew through her nose and … parp! At last the horn made a noise. But it sounded very rude – a bit like Billy when he’d been eating too many pomegranate seeds.
“Oh dear,” murmured Grace, blushing all over again. “Surely it’s not meant to sound like that?”
“Of course it’s not!” Hetty reached up, took the horn and blew.
Pom! Pom! Pom! The instrument at once made a bright, cheerful sound like the beginning of a dance.
“Oh, no!” Grace had hoped the horn would have some kind of special magic – something that would send the dragon to sleep.
“A tune like that is just going to make her more lively,” Grace groaned.
Awoooooooo! Flump howled.
Slowly – very slowly – and without making another sound, the girls edged forward. Hetty ducked down between Grace’s legs and they peered through the narrow gap in the rocks. They could see a wide stone ledge beyond, as broad as the deck of a ship.
“Look!” gasped Grace.
“Oh!” squealed Hetty.
Flump was standing on the tip of the ledge, which jutted out of the cliffs high above the sea.
Awoooooooooooo! He was shaking like a bowl of orange jelly.
Huff! A perfect ring of smoke floated into the air.
In the middle of the ledge was the dragon…
“But … it’s tiny,” said Grace in surprise. She edged out on to the wide ledge.
Curled in a nest of seaweed, with its bright red tail tucked under its snout, was a little crimson dragon pup no bigger than a piglet.
“Silly old Flump!” laughed Hetty, as the quivering dog darted past the dragon and threw his paws around her neck. “How could you be scared of something so small … and cute?”
“It’s just a baby,” grinned Grace.
Grace stared at the tiny dragon pup. She had never seen anything so extraordinary in all her life.
“It’s definitely a Coronet Crimson,” she whispered.
Hetty held out her arms and Flump jumped right into them.
“Imagine being terrified of something so adorable,” chuckled Hetty. “You’re supposed to be a dragon hound who can fight off three-headed serpents with one snarl.”
The enormous dog buried his head in his paws and whimpered.
“Look!” Grace pointed to the dragon’s tiny, fluttering wings. They were fringed with gold. “The mother’s wings were tipped with silver. That means he’s a boy, I think.”
“He’s soooo cute,” cooed Hetty, pushing forward.
But Grace held her back. “Wait. The mother dragon could return at any moment,” she said, glancing anxiously across the ledge towards the blue sky and rolling sea. “She wouldn’t leave her pup alone in the nest for long.”
Huff! The little dragon opened his mouth as if to warn them away. A tiny orange spark flew into the air.
“Oh, no!” cried Grace. “He’s set his nest on fire.”
The dry seaweed crackled: the little dragon had breathed just one flickering spark, but it was enough. Red flames leaped up around the tiny pup.
Awooooooo, howled Flump.
The frightened dragon flapped his flimsy wings, but he was far too young to fly.
“We have to save him!” cried Grace. The little dragon looked so tiny and helpless. She dashed forward and stamped her heavy riding boots down on the growing flames, tramping in wild circles around the tiny, terrified pup. In every dance class she had ever been to, Grace had been told to land gently on her feet. But now she stomped and thumped and clumped for all she was worth.
“Behind you,” cried Hetty as another flame shot up into the air.
Grace twirled and spun around quicker than she had ever been able to pirouette.
The seaweed crunched and crackled as she crashed her boot down on the last leaping flame and the fire went out.
“Well done. You saved him,” cheered Hetty.
Grace, clutched her stomach, gasping for breath.
“Now, you listen to me, young Mr Huffle,” said Grace, crouching down and staring into the baby dragon’s big gold eyes. “Don’t you go setting yourself on fire like that ever again. You frightened me half to death.”
Huff! The tiny dragon puffed again, but this time there were no flames – just a ring of smoke. He edged closer to Grace, all his fear gone. He seemed to know she only wanted to help.
“The poor thing,” said Grace as the little creature opened and closed his mouth like a baby bird. “I think he’s hungry.”
; She felt the dry seaweed in the nest. It crumbled like dead leaves beneath her fingers.
“No wonder this burned so easily,” she said. “The mother dragon is supposed to keep it wet. I read about it in a book I found in the library. Dragons fly out to sea every hour or so and fetch water in their mouths to dampen the nest so that any little sparks the baby breathes won’t set it on fire.”
“That means the mummy dragon’s gone away,” said Hetty, creeping closer.
Grace looked at the singed seaweed and nodded. “This nest should be as soggy as a sponge,” she said. “But it is as dry as paper. I don’t think the mother dragon has been here for a very long time.”
“She’s abandoned him,” gasped Hetty. “Why would she do that? Poor little Huffle.”
“Perhaps something has happened to her,” said Grace, as the dragon pup nibbled the hem of her riding habit. “Something that means she can’t come back.”
Grace looked out across the sapphire sea again. Just a few minutes earlier she had been afraid that the mother dragon would return. Now she wished that she would.
“Many dragons were lost after my uncle drove them away from Cornet Island,” said Hetty. “He didn’t mean for it to be like that. But smugglers came and took them from the new nest sites.They captured the dragons to sell at travelling fairs, or kept them in cages to use in fights.”
Grace shuddered. “I hope that hasn’t happened to the beautiful dragon I saw. She must have been Huffle’s mother. If she really is the last Coronet Crimson in the world, she’d certainly be very valuable. Somebody could get a lot of money for selling such a rare creature.”
Huff! the little dragon cried out again.
“But she’s not the last Coronet Crimson anymore, is she?” said Grace jumping to her feet. “Not since this little fellow hatched.” She pointed to bits of bright green broken egg shell at the edge of the nest.
Huff! The red pup gasped and thumped his tail on the seaweed.
“We have to look after him,” said Grace. “Without his mummy he’ll die.”
Hetty clapped her hands in excitement. “Can he be our dragon?” she asked.
Grace wished more than anything that they could raise Huffle by themselves, but after a moment she shook her head.