Chapter 1 — Behind the Hill
Behind the hill, under the old pear tree, there lived a dragon.
He was as small as a grandmother’s shawl, and as soft as a good pillow. His name was Pihé.
Pihé could do everything a dragon can do. He could fly. He could roll himself into a ball. He could pretend to be asleep.
There was one thing he could not do.
He could not breathe fire.
He tried. He tried in the morning, he tried at noon, he tried in the evening. He blew one great puff, and the air turned warm.
Only warm. Not fire.
“Oh dear,” said Pihé. “It didn’t work again.”
The leaves of the pear tree rustled. The grass bent over. But nothing caught fire.
And yet everyone expects fire from a dragon.
That evening a little girl came to the hill. Her name was Lilla, and she was six and a half, which is nearly seven.
Lilla saw the dragon, and she did not run away. She only stopped and looked.
“Are you the dragon?” she asked.
“I am,” said Pihé sadly. “But I can’t breathe fire. Only warmth.”
Lilla went up to him and held out her palm towards the dragon’s nose.
Pihé blew once.
And everything grew warmer.
“That’s good,” said Lilla. “That’s very good.”
Pihé had never heard anyone say that before.
Chapter 2 — Setting Off
The next morning Lilla came back, and she brought a basket.
“Come with me,” she said. “Tonight the village has its lantern festival. Everyone puts a lantern in the window.”
“I can’t light a lantern,” said Pihé. “I haven’t any fire.”
“You don’t have to light it,” said Lilla. “We put a candle inside. But the village people are cold, because a cold wind is coming.”
Pihé got up. He stretched his wings. He lifted his tail.
“Then let’s go,” he said.
They set off down the hill. Lilla went first, Pihé came after her, and the grass bent everywhere under them.
On the road they met an old dog, sitting in front of a gate.
“Where are you off to?” asked the dog.
“To the lantern festival,” said Lilla.
“It’ll be cold,” said the dog.
Pihé blew on him a little.
And the dog’s ears grew warm. The dog smiled, as much as a dog can.
“Well then,” he said, “a good journey to you.”
They went on. The road was dusty, the sun was shining, and Lilla sang a song that made no sense, and was lovely.
Pihé did not sing. Pihé blew.
And everything grew warmer.
Chapter 3 — What Didn’t Work
In the village everyone was already out in the street.
The baker was baking bread. The neighbours were hanging lanterns on their gates. The children were running about.
Lilla took Pihé over to the baker.
“He can blow warm,” she said proudly.
The baker looked the dragon over.
“I could do with a fire,” he said. “In the oven. So the bread will rise.”
Pihé blew one great puff at the oven.
The air turned warm. But there was no fire.
The baker shook his head.
“That won’t do,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Pihé put his head down. His wings drooped. His tail dragged in the dust.
“I’m not a real dragon,” he said quietly.
Lilla sat down on the ground beside him.
“You are,” she said. “Only different.”
Pihé said nothing.
Then they noticed a small boy standing beside the dough bowl, shivering. He had no coat.
Pihé went over and blew on him.
The small boy stopped shivering. Then he smiled.
“It’s warm,” he said.
And then Lilla cried out:
“Mr Baker! It isn’t fire you need! The dough needs warmth!”
The baker stopped. He looked the dragon up and down. Then he looked at the bowl. Then at the dragon again.
“Bring him here,” he said.
Chapter 4 — The Lantern Festival
Pihé went and stood beside the bowl.
He blew once.
The dough moved. He blew again. The dough rose, slowly, beautifully, like someone sleeping well.
“It’s growing!” cried the small boy.
“It’s growing,” said the baker, and his voice quite broke.
Then evening came.
In the village a lantern burned in every window. The candles were small, their light was yellow, and the wind blew, just as Lilla had said.
But nobody was cold.
Because among the lanterns, among the houses, among the gates, a soft dragon walked, and blew a little everywhere he went.
The dog fell asleep in the gateway. The baker put the bread on the shelf. The small boy put his coat on, and did not need it.
Lilla and Pihé went up the hill.
They sat down under the pear tree. The stars came on, one by one, like someone lighting lanterns in the sky.
“Pihé,” said Lilla. “You’re the best dragon.”
“Why?” asked Pihé.
“Because you don’t need fire to be warm,” said Lilla, and yawned hugely.
Pihé wrapped himself round like a quilt. Lilla snuggled up beside him and put her head on his soft back.
Pihé blew once.
And everything grew warmer.
The lanterns went out one by one in the village. The wind dropped. The pear tree rustled no more.
Behind the hill, under the old pear tree, a dragon and a little girl slept.
And that night, nobody in the world was cold.
