The Tailwind That Waited — High above the milk-white cloudbanks, Cyran carried one brass bell clapper in his claws and counted the quiet seconds between gusts. Read the full story →
High above the milk-white cloudbanks, Cyran carried one brass bell clapper in his claws and counted the quiet seconds between gusts. He wanted to ring the silent bell on Windhook Isle before the island drifted behind the sun. But the air kept falling flat, and his long tail hung straight as a dropped ribbon. Below him, three hot air balloons bobbed with basket ropes creaking and cinnamon steam puffing from their burners.
“Wait for the wind that is shy,” called a child in the largest basket. Cyran circled once, then twice, though waiting made his claws itch. At last, a cool whisper slipped from under the floating cliffs, smelling of wet stone and waterfall spray. It tugged the balloons, brushed Cyran’s wings, and curled around his tail like a silver hook.
Cyran held still until the curl tightened. Then he let it pull him across the rope bridge, over the tiny roofs, straight to Windhook’s bell. Bong! Ever since, sky dragons let their tails curl behind them, saving a patient place for shy winds. Next time you notice his sweeping tail, can you spot the wind it caught?
