-- Bellis and the Two Dragons --
Written by Donny Harijanto
Written by Donny Harijanto
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Long before anyone thought to give names to the oldest woods, there was already someone tending them.
When the first mushrooms pushed through the dark earth, she gently brushed away the fallen leaves. When a young tree bent beneath heavy snow, she quietly lifted its branches before dawn. Few had ever truly seen her, and those who claimed they had spoke only of a little elf with mist-green hair, a freckled smile, and a tall mushroom cap, walking where the morning mist lay thickest. They called her Bellis... |
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One spring, the forest entrusted her with two dragon eggs.
The first did not simply hatch; it grew. Branching, wood-like roots formed a crown of antlers above his big, curious eyes before tiny feet had ever taken a step. Bellis named him Twiglet.. Resting beneath those woven roots was a smooth, stone-like egg. Many quiet days passed before it opened with the softest crack, revealing another little dragon scaled in river-stone, moss, and tiny red mushrooms upon his back. She called him Pebbles.. |
Bellis smiled when she saw Twiglet’s first roots still wrapped protectively around Pebbles’ empty stone shell.
“Some friendships,” she thought, “begin before either heart has learned to beat.”
She never pulled them apart. Years later, those tender roots and that empty shell formed the top of the wooden staff she carried—holding a glowing emerald heart to remind the dragons where they first belonged.
She never pulled them apart. Years later, those tender roots and that empty shell formed the top of the wooden staff she carried—holding a glowing emerald heart to remind the dragons where they first belonged.
The little dragons adored their forest home. Twiglet loved it with endless questions; Pebbles loved it with quiet, steady company. Wherever Twiglet wandered with his antler-roots reaching high, Pebbles lagged just a step behind—not out of fear, but because some journeys are better shared.
Bellis never hurried after them. She had learned long ago that little dragons could easily outrun her feet, but never her patience.
As seasons turned, the forest came to know their presence. A hurried traveler might suddenly catch a boot on a stray root across the dirt path; a heavy heel might discover a curious, mossy stone where none had been a moment before. In their innocent minds, the dragons believed they were guarding every flower, fern, and mushroom from clumsy intruders. Whenever a traveler stumbled, Twiglet would wiggle with delight, while Pebbles tried very hard to look solemn and unamused.
Bellis watched from the dappled shade. She smiled her warm, freckled smile, but said nothing.
Bellis never hurried after them. She had learned long ago that little dragons could easily outrun her feet, but never her patience.
As seasons turned, the forest came to know their presence. A hurried traveler might suddenly catch a boot on a stray root across the dirt path; a heavy heel might discover a curious, mossy stone where none had been a moment before. In their innocent minds, the dragons believed they were guarding every flower, fern, and mushroom from clumsy intruders. Whenever a traveler stumbled, Twiglet would wiggle with delight, while Pebbles tried very hard to look solemn and unamused.
Bellis watched from the dappled shade. She smiled her warm, freckled smile, but said nothing.
Then came a quiet spring morning when the blossoms opened, yet no bees hummed among them. The wild berries ripened, yet fewer birds sang in the high branches. The forest was entirely safe from heavy boots—but strangely, it was also lonely.
Bellis knelt beside a single white wildflower where a weary bee rested beneath the shade of its petals. Without a word, she gently picked the blossom.
Twiglet hurried forward, his tiny roots curling around her boot in dismay. Pebbles rolled a heavy stone across her path to block her step. Their big, dark eyes were wide and terribly puzzled: Why would Bellis harm a flower?
Gently, she set the blossom right beside the exhausted bee. The bee drank its sweet nectar, rested its wings, and drifted off into the morning light. Where the flower had been, Bellis pressed three tiny seeds deep into the moist earth. Only then did she look up and speak.
Bellis knelt beside a single white wildflower where a weary bee rested beneath the shade of its petals. Without a word, she gently picked the blossom.
Twiglet hurried forward, his tiny roots curling around her boot in dismay. Pebbles rolled a heavy stone across her path to block her step. Their big, dark eyes were wide and terribly puzzled: Why would Bellis harm a flower?
Gently, she set the blossom right beside the exhausted bee. The bee drank its sweet nectar, rested its wings, and drifted off into the morning light. Where the flower had been, Bellis pressed three tiny seeds deep into the moist earth. Only then did she look up and speak.
“To love the forest,” she whispered, “is not to hide it away... it is to help every living thing find what it needs.”
The two little dragons looked around. For the first time, they saw their home as something vast and interdependent: not just trees and dirt, but flowers and bees, roots and rain, birdsong and mushrooms. Nothing lived alone.
The two little dragons looked around. For the first time, they saw their home as something vast and interdependent: not just trees and dirt, but flowers and bees, roots and rain, birdsong and mushrooms. Nothing lived alone.
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From that day on, Twiglet still tangled roots, and Pebbles still nudged wandering stones—for old habits have a stubborn way of staying with the young. But now, they did so only when the forest truly asked. Sometimes to guide a lost traveler away from a fragile nest; sometimes to shield a tender patch of moss; and sometimes... simply to remind hurried feet that beautiful places are not meant to be rushed through.
As long years passed, the little dragons grew deep roots and sturdy hearts. The day eventually came when distant winds called their names, carrying whispers of unplanted valleys and wild forests far beyond the morning mist. |
Bellis stood at the edge of the wood, resting her hands upon her staff. She watched her two dragons take their first steps toward paths she could not follow. With a soft, proud smile, she held the forest stillness in her heart and whispered a blessing into the wind:
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There comes a season when little feet no longer follow mine.
The forest begins calling them by their own names. They find paths I have never walked, and make choices I cannot make for them. I cannot keep them small, any more than spring can keep its blossoms. My hands, once busy guiding, learn the quieter work of trusting. Somewhere, one of my little dragons remembers what the forest taught us together. Go where my footsteps cannot. Grow into forests beyond my own. May your roots hold fast, your heart remain gentle, and may the world become a little kinder simply because you walked through it... |
And so, if on a misty morning a gentle root catches your boot, or a smooth stone with red mushrooms appears where you are certain none had been before, do not be too quick to blame the trail. Twiglet is still wonderfully curious, and Pebbles is still quietly following close behind.
And somewhere beyond the morning mist, Bellis is smiling, content to let the world finish the lessons she began.
And somewhere beyond the morning mist, Bellis is smiling, content to let the world finish the lessons she began.
Fin..