The Moonlit Ridge

Imagine you are walking as the sky grows dark. The round moon is still hidden below the far hills. Jules is just ahead of you, carrying a little lantern that paints a golden circle on the trail. Jules’s mom walks close behind, keeping everyone in sight. The hills roll away on both sides, quiet and blue in the evening. A cool breeze smells of pine needles and dry grass.

“Almost there,” Jules says. “If we reach the far side of the ridge, we can watch the moon rise over the valley.”

You follow Jules up the last slope, with Jules’s mom beside you. At the top, the path opens onto a wide ridge, pale in the last light of dusk. Below it lies a sheltered valley, tucked between the hills. You can see a small hollow there, with a flat stone beside it where Jules hopes to sit.

Then a tiny snout peeks from behind a rock.

“Hello,” says Jules.

A small dragon steps out. Her green scales are dotted with copper spots, and a little curl of smoke puffs from her nose.

“I’m Ember,” she says. “I live in the hollow down there.”

“I’m Jules. We’re going across the ridge to watch the moon rise.”

Ember looks at the open stretch ahead. The trail runs across the top, with no trees or bushes to hide behind. She tucks her wings close.

“I know the way,” she says, “but the ridge feels too wide tonight.”

Jules looks toward the valley. The moon is still just below the far hills. Then Jules looks at Ember, who is still beside the rock.

“We don’t have to hurry,” Jules says. “And I don’t want to leave you here.”

Ember’s tail curls around her feet. “I want to see the moon from my hollow. I just don’t like that big, open part.”

You stand with them at the edge of the ridge. Jules’s mom stays close, and the lantern warms your hands. Ahead, the path waits, broad and dim, and the valley waits below.

Jules studies the trail. “Maybe we can make the crossing feel smaller.”

Ember peeks around the rock again. “How small?”

“Small enough to do together,” Jules says.

Jules steps onto the ridge, then stops after only a few paces. “That’s one little section,” Jules says. “We can choose a place to walk to, then choose another.”

Ember looks out across the open ground. “But where do we walk? It all looks like one enormous stretch.”

You crouch beside the trail and notice a low line of stones. They are half hidden in the grass, running across the widest part of the ridge. The stones are round and pale, like little stepping places, though they sit flat on the earth.

“Look,” you say. “Those stones make a path.”

Jules follows the line with the lantern. “Good eyes! We can use each stone as a marker.”

Ember edges forward until her toes touch the first one. “Just to that stone?”

“Just to that stone,” Jules agrees.

You walk together. Jules goes beside Ember, and you walk on her other side. Jules’s mom stays right with you. When you reach the first stone, Ember gives a small, pleased snort. A puff of smoke makes a ring above her nose.

“Next, the bent grass,” Jules says, pointing to a patch leaning toward the valley.

One section at a time, you cross the ridge. The pale stones lead across the broadest stretch. Beyond them, a low clump of grass marks another place to pause. Then there is a crooked little tree, its branches pointing like fingers toward Ember’s hollow.

At the middle of the ridge, the trail seems widest. There is no rock close by, only open ground and the stones ahead. Ember stops. Her wings lift a little, then fold again.

“I can’t see the hollow from here,” she says.

Jules sets the lantern beside the next stone. “You can see me. And I can see you.”

You point to a pale stone just a few steps away. “Let’s reach that one together. Then we’ll pick the next place.”

Ember looks at the stone, then at Jules. “Together?”

“Together,” Jules says.

Ember places one paw forward. You match her pace, and Jules walks beside her, with Jules’s mom close by. Step by step, they reach the stone. Then they choose the next one. At last the ridge narrows, and the grass grows taller around the trail.

Ember lifts her head. “I’m across the widest part!”

“You are,” says Jules. “And the moon is almost ready.”

The path slopes gently down from the ridge, and the grass brushes your knees. Ember walks between you and Jules now, no longer keeping close to the stones. Jules’s mom walks with you, too. Behind you, the wide ridge stretches across the hills, quiet beneath the darkening sky.

At the bottom, Ember’s hollow waits beneath a shelf of rock. It is snug and dry, with a smooth floor and a round stone near the entrance. Ember taps the stone with one claw.

“This is my favorite seat,” she says. “It stays warm after the day.”

Jules sits on one side of the stone, and you settle on the other. Jules’s mom sits nearby. Ember curls beside the stone, folding her wings neatly against her back. The lantern rests on the ground, its little circle of light resting on the grass.

For a while, nobody speaks. You can hear the night breeze move over the tops of the hills. A small moth circles the lantern once, then flits away into the grass.

Ember points her snout toward the valley. “There,” she whispers.

The moon rises above the far rim of the hills. Its round face appears first, then more of it clears the ridge. Moonlight slips down into the valley, finding the stream and the roofs of tiny burrows tucked among the trees.

Jules smiles. “We made it in time.”

Ember rests her chin on the warm stone. “And the ridge wasn’t one enormous stretch after all.”

“No,” says Jules. “It was lots of little ones.”

You look back up the trail. From the hollow, the ridge seems wide and friendly, with its pale stones set in a quiet row. Ember follows your gaze, then gives a happy little puff of smoke.

“I think I can cross it again,” she says. “Especially if we choose the landmarks together.”

Jules folds the lantern’s handle down, and its light grows smaller. The moon keeps watch over the sheltered valley. Ember curls closer to the warm stone, and Jules settles beside her, while you and Jules’s mom listen to the hush of the hills around you.