by Sarah Matanah
Mo and Flo were playing a bowling game with stacks of rocks. From the cave above them they could hear the clanging noises of Mama G restacking Mama D’s collection of treasures.
They hadn’t had any lessons or work all day. Mo was hoping that if they stayed out of the way neither of their moms would notice.
He had just knocked down one of Flo’s towers with a perfect throw when Mama D landed behind him with the scraping sound of claws on rock. Her tail was twitching. That meant they weren’t going to get to play anymore. She’d decided they needed improvement.
“It’s time you learned how to breathe fire,” Mama D said. “Most dragons can flame when they’re half your age.”
Mo shifted nervously. He glanced at Flo. She stared over the top of the mountain.
“Here, look carefully.” Mama D lowered her head until they could easily see her mouth. “I curl my tongue, open my throat, and let my breath come from the hottest, deepest part of my belly.”
She blew. A single long flame shot out of her mouth. A patch of lichen on the rocks between Flo and Mo burned to a pile of ash.
“Okay, kids—you try.” She gestured with her claw. “Mo, you stand by that boulder. Flo, you can be over there on the pile of gravel.”
Flo and Mo went off to separate spots on the rocky slope, but they watched each other out of the corners of their eyes. Neither one wanted to be the last to learn how to flame.
Mo tried to follow Mama D’s instructions, but it felt hopeless. When he curled his tongue, he felt like gagging. He could think, open the throat, but it didn’t feel any different. As far as he could tell, his stomach was all the same temperature. He glanced at Flo. She didn’t seem to be making any flames either, although her face had turned purple.
Mama D paced back and forth on the slope above them. They kept trying, blowing nothing but air. Occasionally she flicked her tail and sent a boulder crashing down the slope. Mo wished she would leave them alone. He was starting to get a blank, dizzy feeling in his head from all the blowing.
Finally, Mama D said, “I’m going to go catch something big for dinner. You two keep practicing.”
She beat her wings and jumped into the air. A moment later she was a speck in the sky, heading over the mountain to the ocean.
Mo curled up on a sunny rock. He fitted his body into its curves and turned his belly scales so they glimmered in the sun. Flo kept puffing away in her corner.
“C’mon, Flo,” he called. “You might as well take a rest. It’s too hard. Mama D always thinks we can do everything.”
“Maybe it’s just too hard for you,” Flo said. She went back to her puffing.
Mo thought that she might be right. He hoped she didn’t learn how to breathe fire. It wasn’t fair. She always learned things first. Almost without meaning to, he flicked his tail and sent a pebble flying at Flo. It hit her on the shoulder and bounced off her thick scales.
“Cut it out, Mo.”
He sent another pebble flying toward her back. He hoped she’d flick one back at him and forget about flaming. Instead she just turned and stomped down the slope and into the forest.
After a minute, Mo followed her. He didn’t want her to get away and learn how to flame somewhere without him. He found her in a clearing, puffing at some mushrooms. He sneaked around the clearing and threw twigs at her from the other side.
“Mo, I told you to stop.”
A twig hit her in the nose.
When Mo threw the next one, she reared back on her hind legs, threw herself forward, and blew. A ball of fire floated out of her mouth, and the twig burst into flame. It landed on the ground between them, still burning.
“Hey, I did it.” Flo tilted her head back and smiled at Mo, showing her fangs. “Thanks, Mo. I was so angry at you I could feel it burning a hole in my belly. So I blew it out. Go ahead and throw something else at me, okay? I could use the practice.”
Mo thought about biting her. A year ago he would have just done it. And then he felt what Flo was talking about. He was furious. The anger burned and tore and crackled inside. If being angry was all it took to breathe fire, he could be as good as anybody. Mo breathed into his belly, and felt the fire burn and gather and build. Then he opened his throat and huffed it out as hard as he could.
FOOSH! A sheet of fire burst out of Mo’s mouth. Dead trees, underbrush, and grasses burst into flames. His fire was much bigger than Flo’s. He glanced at Flo. She stood completely still, stunned. Ha. He flicked his tongue in satisfaction and glanced at her again. No, she wasn’t stunned. She was horrified. He looked back at the fire. As he watched, flames leapt from one dead branch to another, from a twig to a bush. Soon the whole forest would be on fire.
“Mo,” Flo said, “you are in so much trouble.”
"We’ve got to stop it,” he said. “Flo, you have to help me!”
“What’ll we do? It’s growing bigger every second!”
Mo looked around for water. There wasn’t any.
“It can’t burn dirt,” Mo said, his mind racing. “Let’s dig around it until we’ve made a wall of dirt so thick it can’t get past. Then we’ll keep building walls until it’s trapped.”
Dragons have sharp strong claws that can rip up dirt faster than any humans with shovels. They have strong wings to push the dirt into place. Flo and Mo quickly put up three walls. The fire burned right up to the walls, but it couldn’t get past them. Mo was beginning to hope no one would ever know he had almost burned down the forest—and then Mama D flew down out of the sky. She set to work on the remaining side of the fire, smashing it out with her huge, tough wings. Soon there was nothing left of the fire but a smoky stink, making all the air dark and thick.
Mo glanced anxiously at Mama D. Her tail wasn’t twitching. She hummed a little and bit a loose scale off her side.
“I see you’ve learned how to breathe fire,” she said.
“Mo did that,” Flo said quickly.
Mama D turned her head to examine Flo. “Apparently you both learned something about fire safety as well. Did you learn how to flame too, Flo?”
“Yes,” Flo said. “Mo made me mad, and I figured it out.”
“Flo was acting like she was going to get it and I wasn’t,” Mo said. Flo’s tail was too close to his. He poked at it.
Mama D’s eye ridges twitched. “I guess your fighting was useful for a change.”
Mo glared at her.
“I remember when I was learning how to blow fire,” Mama D said. “My mom said I couldn’t play with my friends until I showed her a flame. I said I was going out to practice, but I snuck a book with me. She came down and grabbed it out of my claws. I was so mad I breathed fire right at her, and the book burnt to ashes. For almost a year I remembered that book every time I wanted to flame. I should have thought of that, but I guess you figured it out on your own.
“Anyway, while you two were destroying the forest, I caught us the biggest fish you’ve ever seen. If one of you wants to come up and show Mama G that you can light the fire, we can cook it for dinner.”
“I’ll do it,” Mo said, spreading his wings and leaping for the cave.
“No, I will,” Flo said. “I learned how first. So I get the first turn.” She tried to push past Mo. Her head hit him under the chin, and their wings tangled. They fell to the ground.
“You two figure it out,” Mama D said. “I’ll meet you at the cave.”
Mo watched Flo, ready to push past her if she tried to get ahead of him again. He could tell that she was thinking the same thing.
After a while he said, “We can start it together, if we put our heads side by side.”
“Okay,” Flo said, “Should I trip you on the way up, so you get mad?”
“Fine,” Mo said. “Then I get to trip you, too, okay?”
“Yup,” Flo said. “It’ll be perfect. Let’s go show Mama G.”
Copyright (c) 2007 by Sarah Matanah. All rights reserved
Sarah Matanah likes to write fantasy and science fiction. She is learning how to play the guitar, but so far she can only pick and not strum. She works in day care and lives in Minneapolis with her wife, children, and adorable Houdini-like mutt. She has told many stories about Flo and Mo, but she can’t remember most of them.
