Rhea and the Cloud Peak Beacon

The beacon blinked once, twice, then gave a tiny glow that made Rhea sit up straight.

“Oh, no,” she whispered. “Not tonight.”

She hurried across the small stone lookout on Cloud Peak. Below her, the valley was tucked under a blanket of blue shadow. Dragon homes nestled among the trees, their round windows dark. Even the waterfall had quieted to a silver murmur. Everyone was asleep, and everyone counted on the beacon to shine until morning.

Rhea was a young dragon with coppery scales and a tail that curled when she worried. She wanted to keep the beacon glowing all night. Its crystal rested on a stone stand beneath a hinged cover. The cover kept rain and snow away, and a little flame inside the crystal made a warm, golden light.

Rhea lifted the cover and peered in. The flame was small, but steady. “There you are,” she said. She settled the cover carefully back in place.

A soft crunch sounded behind her. Tuck, a round-faced dragon with pale green wings, came in carrying a mug of warm berry tea.

“I thought you might like company,” he said. “The sky is getting darker by the minute.”

They looked out together. One by one, the last sunset colors slipped behind the far hills. A first star appeared over the valley. Rhea sipped her tea, and for a little while the beacon shone like a bright, patient eye.

Then a gust swept over Cloud Peak.

Whoooosh!

The cover jumped open. The flame in the crystal bent low, and its glow shrank to a thin, sleepy line.

Rhea snapped the cover shut. “That wind came out of nowhere!”

Tuck leaned his shoulder against it. “I can hold it.”

For a few breaths, the light grew brighter. But the wind circled the lookout, tugging at the cover from the other side. Tuck’s paws slipped on the smooth stone, and the lid sprang up again.

The beacon flickered. Far below, the valley remained dark and still. Rhea pressed both claws against the cover and listened to the wind testing it once more.

Rhea and Tuck took turns holding the cover down. The gusts came in little bursts: a tug, a pause, then another tug. Each time the lid lifted, the crystal’s flame bent and dimmed.

“I can keep holding it,” Tuck said, though his arms were trembling.

Rhea looked at his tired paws, then at the light. “We need a way to help the cover, not just our arms.”

The sky above them had turned deep indigo. A cloud slid across the moon, and its shadow traveled over the valley. The beacon glowed faintly beneath Rhea’s claws. She felt a small flutter in her chest, but she kept her hands steady.

Then she noticed something. On the north side of the lookout, the tower’s high stone wall stood between them and the wind. A loose ribbon tied to a railing hung almost still there. On the other side, the ribbon whipped and snapped.

“The tower blocks the wind on this side!” Rhea said. “Maybe we can make a little wall around the crystal, too.”

Tuck followed her gaze. “A stone shelter?”

“A low one,” Rhea said. “And we’ll leave an opening facing the valley, so the light can shine down.”

They hurried to the edge of the lookout, where flat stones lay in a neat stack for small repairs. Rhea chose broad ones she could lift. Tuck carried them close, one at a time. They set the first stones around the crystal’s stand, then added another row. The wind pushed at their backs. A stone wobbled, and Rhea steadied it with her tail.

“Easy,” she murmured. “We’ve got you.”

They left a clear gap toward the valley. Rhea checked that the cover could still open and close inside their low shelter. Then she lowered it and tucked one final flat stone snugly against the windy side.

A gust rushed over the peak.

The stone shelter held. The cover quivered, but it stayed shut. Inside the crystal, the flame straightened. Its golden light widened, slipped through the open gap, and spilled across the valley rooftops.

Rhea and Tuck watched as the beacon shone bright and steady. The cloud moved on, and a pale stripe appeared along the far edge of the sky.

The pale stripe slowly widened. It was not bright enough to wake the valley, but it softened the dark blue above the hills. One star faded, then another. The rooftops below began to show their shapes again: a chimney here, a round window there, and the winding path that led to the waterfall.

Rhea sat beside the stone shelter. Tuck settled next to her, careful not to bump the beacon. Its crystal glowed warmly through the opening they had left toward the valley.

“It’s still shining,” Tuck whispered.

Rhea nodded. She no longer had to hold the cover with her claws. The stones stood firm, and the wind slid past the lookout with a low, gentle sigh.

They shared the last of the berry tea. It had gone cool, but it still tasted sweet. Tuck pointed out a small cloud shaped like a curled-up dragon. Rhea spotted another that looked like a tiny boat sailing over the mountain.

The sky changed from deep blue to violet, then from violet to the soft gray of early morning. A thin band of peach appeared beneath the clouds. The beacon’s glow seemed less lonely now. It rested over the sleeping valley while dawn gathered beyond the hills.

At last, the first pale stripe of sunlight touched Cloud Peak. It slipped over the stone lookout and warmed the tops of the flat stones. The crystal continued to shine, steady and gold, as the valley began to wake. A far-off door opened. Somewhere below, a young dragon gave a sleepy yawn.

Rhea watched the sunlight spread across the rooftops. Her tail loosened from its worried curl. She had wanted to keep the beacon glowing until morning, and it had done just that.

Tuck gave a quiet smile. “You thought of the shelter.”

“We made it together,” Rhea said.

The last cool breath of night drifted past, and the stone wall beside them held a little warmth from the new sun. Rhea curled up against it, her wings folded close. The beacon shone on behind her, and she rested, proud and peaceful, as morning brightened the valley.