Sometimes the scariest part isn’t the dragon — it’s the climb, the rumours, and the way everyone else reacts.
No one had dared to see the dragon in years, but everyone remembered The Incident.
The snail woke to the sound of screaming outside.
She slid into her shell and poked her head out.
A hedgehog tore past, shrieking,
“AHHHH, HE’S GOING TO CRUSH MY SPINE AND EAT MY FACE!”
The snail blinked. “It’s barely sunrise…”
In the village square, animals were crying, bolting doors, rocking back and forth.
The turtle found her. “Come with me.”
In the town hall, the snake had gathered teams from Yolotown and Dunwell.
He unrolled a scroll and read in a grim voice:
“DEATHSNORT BLOODFURY the dragon has pinned a note to the village notice board.
He says he ‘wants to talk’. That it would ‘be a shame’ if there was another… incident.”
The room fell silent.
Someone whimpered.
No two versions of The Incident matched.
In one, Deathsnort set the river on fire.
In another, he roasted every scarecrow in a five-mile radius “for practice.”
Whatever the truth, The Incident had been bad enough that no one dared go near his cave since.
The snake continued: “Tomorrow, you will climb up Backlog Mountain and talk to him.”
“Why me?” wailed the rooster. “I’m young and tender — he’ll flame-grill me!”
Nobody volunteered.
“We voted,” the snake said. “You weren’t there. That’s democracy.”
Dunwell spent the day preparing: oat bars, biscuits, a sturdy map, and a scarf knitted by the snail.
Yolotown, meanwhile, held a slogan workshop. By afternoon, the rooster wore a shirt saying: I’m Not Afraid of the Terrifying Dragon.
The turtle found the rooster, lazy cat, parrot, and sloth sitting around.
“We’ve planned a meeting,” said the lazy cat, “to plan the planning meeting.”
The parrot nodded seriously. “And after that, we’ll pick our team mascot.”
“I need to reorganise my fridge,” added the sloth.
“So you’re not coming?” asked the turtle.
“No,” said the rooster. “We’re terrified.”
The turtle adjusted his pack and talked to the Dunwell team.
“I know you don’t want to go. Me neither. But… I keep thinking about our friends. Our families.”
He shrugged, almost apologetic. “Feels like we should try.”
They all set off out of the village.
The air grew colder as they climbed.
Claw marks scored the rocks.
A boulder shaped like a skull jutted from the ridge.
The wind whistled through gaps like a low growl.
Far above, a roar rolled down the mountain.
The snail’s scarf snagged on a thorn.
The lion’s tail bristled.
A rock clattered down the slope and everyone froze.
Outside the cave, a sign was carved into black obsidian stone:
HERE DWELLS DEATHSNORT BLOODFURY
Devourer of Hopes, Crusher of Dreams,
Face-Muncher, Spine Smasher,
(Now goes by “Snuffleflame”)
Please knock gently, thanks!
They exchanged nervous looks. The turtle knocked.
A huge shadow shifted inside. Then—
“Oh! You must be from Dunwell,” said a warm voice.
The dragon ducked through the doorway, wearing a pink apron with faded daisies stitched across the front, a dusting of flour still clinging to his scales. One pocket sagged under the weight of a wooden spoon.
“Kettle’s on.”
Inside, the walls were lined with crocheted blankets, jars of honey, and shelves of tiny wooden animals.
They sat in the dragon’s kitchen, sipping tea from cups the size of barrels.
“I’m cold,” said the snail, shivering slightly.
Snuffleflame rose to his full seven-metre height, spreading his wings.
“I’LL MAKE YOU TOASTY, SNAIL!” he boomed.
The snail let out a blood-curdling scream.
“…You don’t want a hot water bottle?” Snuffleflame asked, looking confused.
They drank more tea.
“I was a bit of a handful in my younger days,” Snuffleflame said, offering a selection of biscuits. “Sorry about… The Incident. I’m working on myself. I’ve taken up wood carving.”
They chatted, laughed, swapped biscuit recipes, and left with a basket of jam.
“Funny… the climb was scarier than the dragon,” said the turtle as they approached the village.
Back in the square, Dunwell strolled in with the dragon padding gently behind them.
A hedgehog screamed and fell into a water trough.
A rabbit fainted.
The rooster hurled himself through the post office window.
Snuffleflame looked around at the chaos, smiling warmly.
“Lovely village you’ve got here… would be such a shame if anything happened to it.”
Davide la Locomotive 
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