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AN OUT-OF-CONTROL FIRE was threatening Kas’ grandmother in Mallacoota. She knew the dragons could help, but would they risk exposing their secret existence to aid her?
When Kas was younger, she continually pestered her parents. “Do the street artists actually see the dragons they paint? Why do the gargoyles on the buildings look like dragons? Do dragons watch the dragon boat racing at Docklands? Do dragons exist? Do dragons like dragon fruit?” Her parents never provided a satisfactory answer.
That changed the day her grandmother came to visit and took her for a walk along the Yarra River. They passed thousands of people going to the Australian Football League Grand Final. A patch of daisies, near the water’s edge, caught Kas’ attention. Kas wandered over to them and looked out over the river. Air bubbles were rising to the surface. Looking closer, she realised something was swimming under the water. She grabbed her grandmother’s hand and scrambled behind an old gum tree. Slowly, she peeked around. She gasped. A family of dragons was playing in the Yarra! She clapped her hand over her mouth as the dragons stopped swimming. Boldly, she walked over to the river’s edge. One dragon emerging from the river shook itself dry and drenched Kas. Laughing, Kas strode around the dragon, mumbling to herself, “Sixteen steps long and five steps wide.”
She stopped nose-to-nose with the dragon. Looking over her head, the dragon spied Grandma and stared. Grandma stared back. Kas sneezed. Both her grandmother and the dragon laughed. Happy, deep, trusting laughter.
A year later, as Melbourne again turned its attention to the footy Grand Final, Kas and her Grandma went walking along the Yarra, laughing with the dragons. The dragons invited them back to their cave which was under the river, near the Princes Bridge. As time passed, she got to know, love and care for the dragons. In the evenings she would take the food waste bins from the food courts and markets, treating the dragons to a veritable banquet.
The dragons could hear the music of the street parades from their cave. Their favourite was the annual Melbourne Chinese Dragon Parade. Ordinarily, they were content watching it on TV, but one year the fog had been thick enough that they were able to fly above the parade unnoticed and could see the dragon puppet, Dia Lloong and all the people making it move. Kas’ favourite event was the annual fireworks night. Hidden by the lights and smoke, this was a night the dragons could fly around the city. Last year, the dragons invited her to fly with them. From the back of a dragon, with the wind in her hair, she believed she could do anything.
Two years ago the dragons flew Kas out of Melbourne, to the top of Mount Kosciusko. As the sun rose, they looked out over the land, and tears welled up in the dragons’ eyes. “When we arrived in Australia the land looked very different. We could tell someone was looking after it. There were often small fires burning on the horizon to open up the bushland and create breaks in the forested areas. There were patches of burnt bush. The fire had been encouraged to stay low, near the ground, protecting the tops of the trees.”
The dragon stopped speaking, her nostrils were flaring as if they were smelling the smoke of long ago. A second dragon took up the tale.
“On moonless nights, we flew above their campsite and learned from the songs and dances. We learned the secrets of the flora and fauna and how to care for the land. One wet winter, the camp flooded. Everything was wet and the fire failed. We flew down from the clouds, gently landing in the circle. Using our dragon-fire, we ignited the campfire. The warmth of the flames matched the friendship that grew between us. We had the advantage of flight and could see far into the distance. We let the people know which areas were ready to be burnt, and which could be left for another season. In return, we discovered people that cared for and embraced us. We worked together, dragons and people, caring for this land.”
“You and your grandmother reminded us of our first family. A similar love of the land was in your eyes. We cared and looked after this land. It doesn’t look very loved now.”
A cloud drifted in front of the sun as the dragons went on to tell her how all that had changed when other people came to Australia. They would hide in the clouds as the sailing boats landed. As the sailors sat around their campfires reading stories, the dragons listened. These new people told stories with paper and books, not in song and dance. With fear-filled voices, they recited tales of hunting and killing dragons. Horrified, the dragons watched the construction of a statue of St George killing a dragon in front of the Melbourne State Library. The dragons loved Australia and wanted to stay, but they were afraid and went into hiding, separated from their first Australian family. For nearly three hundred years, the dragons had lived quietly in the cave in Melbourne, safe, only adventuring out in thick fog or on moonless nights. But all that might be about to change.
Thoughts were crashing into each other in Kas’ head. The land was on fire. A hundred fires were burning in her state alone. Many were out of control. The firefighters and other emergency services were doing all they could, but would it be enough? Would the dragons come out of hiding to save Grandma in Mallacoota?
Grandma called. The police had told the residents and holidaymakers that it was too late to leave Mallacoota and that they should head to the beach. If the sirens sounded, everyone was to get under the water and wait for the fire to pass over them. Thinking of Grandma made her eyes weep and her heart race.
Shaking and with tears in her eyes, Kas talked with the dragons. Even though the dragons’ cave was thick with the smoke from the bush fires, they didn’t want to get involved. What if people saw them? These fires might convince these modern people to take notice of the land and take better care of it. If the dragons solved the problem, would the people still change? Kas pleaded with them. The thoughts tumbled out of her mouth at once. Was there a way the dragons could help without anyone noticing? Could they rescue the people stranded on the beach, but in a way that the people would still want to change their ways? She considered the risks. But it was Grandma! She stopped begging and looked up. The dragons were silent. They understood. Grandma was their family—she shared their secret. Dragons protect family! So they agreed to help.
While everyone sat glued to their televisions, watching the tragedy unfold, the dragons took to the sky. They flew, thankful for their owl-like eyes that allowed them to see through the putrid smoke-filled air. They flew over the land they loved, crying as the flames ate the trees they had lovingly tended. Arriving in Mallacoota, they headed to the beach, where the people were huddled on the pier. The noise as the fire approached was deafening. The smoke thickened, blocking out the sun completely, and letting the dragons head to the fire-front through the darkness. Standing together, they beat their wings, causing a blustery wind that changed the fire’s direction. The people down by the water waited, but the fire didn’t come. The sirens remained silent.
“The fire was nearly on us, but the wind suddenly changed. It was a miracle,” said one holidaymaker to the television reporter.
Kas turned off the television, smiling. As the dragons flew home, she gathered the food waste bins from the casino and prepared a welcome feast. Grandma was safe! She hoped that maybe this time, people would re-think how the land and fire were managed. Maybe this time, the stories in song dance would once again be respected.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: SARAH and her family first saw the signs that dragons lived in Melbourne while living in Gippsland. She taught her three sons to see the “possible” and the “maybe” in the world, and not to limited by the “always is and always will be.” She is currently procrastinating job hunting by volunteering for several community organisations. She loves encouraging people to dream. This is her first attempt at a short story.
