We built the snow dragon in a forest clearing, our secret place. She was twenty feet long, from spiny snout to curving tail. For eyes we gave her bits of flint, for teeth dozens of the sharpest icicles. We fed her with our hopes and dreams.
“Will she fly?” I asked Ella.
She petted the dragon’s long, slender neck. Blue fuzz stuck to it from her mittens.
“Sure, if we believe.”
One day the bullies followed us.
We climbed on our dragon’s back.
“Wish real hard,” Ella whispered.
Wings of ice and snow flexed. Fangs of ice gleamed.
We flew.
Author’s Note: Dragons are cool. Sometimes literally.
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