The Little Brave Step

Mira: Tonight, we have a story about a very small dragon, and one very small bridge… which, as it happens, can feel quite large when you are standing at the beginning of it. Hale: Especially when your feet are little, and your heart is doing that quick, fluttery thing. Mira: Mm. In a quiet river hollow, where the air smelled of wet stone and warm moss, a soft-green dragon sat at the edge of a moss bank. Mira: Evening was settling in gently. Fireflies blinked over the water like distant lanterns, and across the stream, a patch of star-petals glowed pale and silver in the moonlight. Hale: Such a lovely place to be… if you can remember to breathe. Mira: The little dragon loved looking at the star-petals. He had watched them night after night, opening their tiny shining faces beneath the sky. Mira: He wished he could sit among them. He wished he could feel their soft petals under his paws. Mira: But between his moss bank and the flowers was a little wooden bridge. Low to the water. Only a few planks long. Hale: Not a giant mountain crossing. Not a stormy sea. Mira: No. Just a little bridge. Mira: Still, the dragon looked at it, and his belly felt wobbly. What if his paw slipped? What if the bridge creaked? What if he got halfway across and wished he were back on the moss? Hale: Oh, that is a very familiar kind of worry. Mira: The dragon imagined himself stumbling. Then, just as quickly, he imagined himself soaring, bright wings spread over the river. Mira: But neither picture felt quite right. Mira: He was not trying to soar tonight. Hale: No, he was only trying to take one step. Mira: The dragon lowered his head. He watched one firefly float above the bridge, blinking softly, blinking again. Mira: “I do not have to cross all at once,” he whispered. Hale: A very sensible dragon. Mira: He placed one small paw on the first wooden plank. Mira: The bridge gave the tiniest creak. Mira: The dragon froze. Hale: Well… bridges do sometimes have things to say. Mira: The creek below kept moving, smooth and dark. The moss behind him was still there. The star-petals ahead were still glowing. Mira: Nothing was rushing him. Mira: So he took a breath that felt cool in his nose and warm in his chest. Mira: Then he placed his second paw beside the first. Mira: Two paws on the bridge. Hale: Look at that. Mira: He did not run. He did not fly. He simply stood there for a moment, feeling the wood beneath him, feeling his own small body holding steady. Mira: And slowly, carefully, he took another step. Mira: Then another. Mira: By the time he reached the other side, the star-petals were close enough to touch. Hale: And did he touch them? Mira: He did. Very gently. Mira: One petal brushed his paw, soft as a sleepy whisper. The dragon curled beside the flowers, warm and quiet, and looked back at the little bridge. Mira: It was still only a little bridge. Mira: But now it was a little bridge he had crossed. Hale: One small brave step at a time. Mira: One small brave step at a time. Mira: And wherever you are tonight, you do not have to do everything at once. Hale: Just breathe, get cozy, and let the night carry you gently toward sleep. Mira: Goodnight, little dragons. Hale: Goodnight.