If I was a dragon...

The clearing behind the bakery smelled like dough and sugar. Three children played beneath the shade of the old oak tree, their imaginations soaring far beyond the horizon. This place was their kingdom after they were done with their chores. Because this was where dragons were born. Mila was leaning against the trunk of the tree, her sword strapped across her back, the scars on her hands catching the golden afternoon light. She was just passing by when the sound of the children’s game drew her in. They seemed to have the time of their lives.

“What would you guard?” Kael shouted, hopping on a rock. “If you were a dragon, you have to guard something!”

“Gold!” Jak declared, gripping a wooden stick like a scepter. “The biggest pile of gold anyone’s ever seen! Even the king would beg me for a coin!”

“That’s silly,” Ilia said, spinning around in her place. “If I was a dragon I’d guard the flowers in the meadows, so they’d bloom forever.”

Jak pointed at her with his stick as if it was a sword. “Dragons don’t guard flowers!”

“You wouldn't know! You are not a dragon! Maybe they do guard whatever they like!” Ilia answered at once, sticking out her tongue.

"If I was a dragon..."

"If I was a dragon..."

Mila’s fingers brushed the hilt of her sword as her thoughts drifted away. “I’d have scales the color of the dawn. Gold, yes, but softer- with patches of silver like frost and fire together.” She closed her eyes briefly. “My wings would stretch so wide they’d cast a shadow over a forest, but when I flew, you’d only hear silence, like the pause before a storm.”

The children’s voices faded further as her imagination grew.

“I’d live in high cliffs, where the wind carves songs into the stone. Not to hide- dragons don’t hide- but because from there, I could see everything: the villages, the rivers, the stars at night. I’d know every corner of this land.”

A smile touched her lips. “As for what I’d hoard? Not gold. Not jewels. I’d hoard the things people forget they need: the laughter of children, the first bloom of spring, the quiet moments before dawn and the rush of feelings the dusk holds.”

Her stomach rumbled softly, and she chuckled. “My diet? Oh, probably sheep. A lot of sheep. Sorry, farmers, but some things don't change. As for my breath weapon... Not fire. It would be something gentler. Maybe a breath that brings dreams to life, or one that fills the air with music no one’s heard before.”

Her thoughts were interrupted by Kael’s voice.

“No, no!” he was shouting, flapping his arms wildly. “You can’t guard mountains and treasure! Pick one!”

“Fine!” Jak agreed with a frown. “I’ll guard treasure, but I’ll do it better than any dragon ever has!”

“What about you, miss?” Ilia’s voice rang out suddenly, pulling Mila back to the present. “What would you guard, if you were a dragon?”

Mila blinked, her thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. She stepped closer, the grass crunching softly beneath her boots, and said, “Me? Well, if I was a dragon, I would guard the stories.”

“Stories?” Ilia asked, tilting her head to the side, clearly confused.

“Exactly! Every story ever told,” Mila explained, crouching to meet their eager gazes. “The stories of mountains and rivers, of treasures lost and found, of heroes and villains, and the people no one remembers. Without stories, we’d forget who we are. And dragons ought to be smarter than this, aren't they?”

"Stories about flowers?" Ilia asked hopefully. Mila smiled before answering.

Kael smiled, bright and wide, puffing out his chest. He climbed on one of the lower branches of the oak and declared with a booming voice, “If I was a dragon, I’d guard the stories of the stars! No one would forget how they shine.”

“And I’d guard the stories about all the meadows! That's where flowers grow!” Ilia chimed in, dancing around.

Jak rolled his eyes but couldn’t help joining in. “Fine. There’s so much treasure out there, so someone has to guard these stories, too.”

Their laughter echoed into the afternoon as the game resumed with renewed vigor. Mila watched for a moment longer, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. She adjusted her sword and turned to leave, feeling a warmth growing in her chest. And as the last echo of their voices faded, she spread her golden wings, stretched her body, and jolted into the sky. The proud golden dragon that she was circled the village once, the sunlight gliding across her shimmering scales. With a final, joyful beat of her wings, Mila soared toward the distant mountains until she disappeared into the clouds.