Leo and the Dragon Horns

Leo’s first ring landed around the wooden dragon’s tail, which was not one of the targets.

“Excellent tail-ringing!” said Poppy, his friend. “The dragon looks surprised.”

It certainly did. The painted dragon stood at the ring-toss booth in the castle garden, its wooden horns sticking up like two little hills. A sign read: ONE RING ON A HORN WINS A RIBBON. On the small prize table, red, blue, and gold ribbons waited in a neat row.

Leo, a young knight-in-training, wanted the gold one. He had polished his practice helmet that morning, and a bright blue feather bobbed on top. He stood at the tossing line and rolled his shoulders like a knight about to face a mighty foe.

“Ready?” asked Poppy.

“Ready!” Leo said. He picked up a soft ring, swung his arm, and threw it with all his strength.

The ring sailed past the dragon’s horns, looped around its tail, and stayed there.

The booth keeper, a cheerful woman named Mrs. Bell, leaned over the counter. “That’s a fine tail ring, but the horns are the targets.”

“I was testing the dragon’s tail,” Leo said. “It seems sturdy.”

He tried again. This time the ring bounced off the left horn, flew backward, and landed neatly on Leo’s helmet feather. Poppy giggled. Leo looked up, but he could only see the inside of his helmet.

“Does this count?” he asked.

“Only if feathers are the target,” said Mrs. Bell.

Leo lifted the ring off his feather and set it aside. At the next booth, a little bell went ding as someone won a prize. Leo looked at the ribbons. He wanted one to pin to his training tunic.

“Maybe I need a bigger throw,” he said.

Poppy tilted her head. “Your throws are already bigger than the dragon.”

Leo picked up another ring. He aimed high, swung hard, and let it fly. It sailed over the booth, skimmed across a striped awning, and dropped into an empty basket of soft festival buns.

A baker nearby peered in. “One ring, fresh from the oven!”

Leo smiled, but his eyes returned to those narrow wooden horns. He still had more rings, and the gold ribbon was waiting. Around them, the castle garden hummed with music, laughter, and the clatter of festival games.

Leo brushed a crumb from the ring and returned to the line. He planted his feet wide, bent his knees, and squinted at the horns.

“This time,” he said, “I’ll throw even higher.”

Poppy opened her mouth, then closed it. Leo was already swinging.

The ring shot up, sailed over the dragon, and settled around the handle of a watering can beside the booth. A gardener picked up the can and gave it a little shake. The ring rattled like a tiny bell.

“Your dragon has watered the flowers,” Poppy said.

“Very helpful,” Leo replied. “But not a ribbon.”

He tried another ring. It bounced off the right horn, skipped across the ground, and stopped around the toe of Mrs. Bell’s boot. She lifted her foot. The ring came with it.

“Now the booth has a dancing boot,” she said, tapping her toe.

Leo laughed, but his cheeks grew warm. The horns were right in front of him. Why did his rings keep visiting everything else?

Poppy stepped up beside him. “May I try one?”

“Of course,” said Leo. “Maybe you can show me how to reach the dragon’s tail.”

Poppy held a ring in one hand. She bent her knees and swung her arm underhand, low and easy. The ring floated forward, touched the ground once, and came to rest just in front of the dragon’s horns.

It did not land on a horn. Still, it was closer than any of Leo’s rings had come.

Leo stared at the little space between the ring and the target. “You kept it low.”

“I looked at the horns,” Poppy said. “I didn’t try to toss the ring over the whole castle.”

Leo studied the targets. They were narrow, but they were not high. He had been aiming above them, as if the dragon had a very tall hat.

“My arm can go underhand,” he said. “I can send the ring low and let it fall over a horn.”

He chose a fresh ring. His fingers felt a little wobbly, but he stayed at the line. He bent his knees and swung his arm gently, just as Poppy had.

The ring glided forward. It bumped the grass, tipped up, and slipped over the dragon’s left horn.

“On a horn!” cried Mrs. Bell.

Leo’s grin spread from one ear to the other. He chose the gold ribbon from the prize table and pinned it to his tunic. Then he handed Poppy the next ring.

“Your turn,” he said. “I’ll cheer.”

Poppy tossed low and easy. Her ring landed over the right horn.

“Two winners!” Leo cheered, clapping so hard his helmet feather bobbed.

Mrs. Bell tied a blue ribbon for Poppy and helped her pin it beside Leo’s gold one. The two friends stood shoulder to shoulder, looking down at their prizes. Leo’s ribbon sat straight. Poppy’s leaned a little to one side.

“It’s taking a bow,” Poppy said.

Leo bowed back to it. His helmet feather bobbed, and the ribbon tipped even farther. They both laughed, careful not to jostle the little prize loose.

The festival garden was settling into its evening pace. The bell at the next booth rang less often. A few families walked toward the castle doors with paper flags tucked under their arms. Near the fountain, a musician played a slow tune on a wooden flute.

Leo and Poppy strolled along the garden path, their ribbons pinned to their clothes. They passed the ring-toss booth again. The wooden dragon still wore its painted grin, and a ring rested around its tail.

“That one is still testing the dragon,” Leo said.

“Perhaps it’s a very important test,” Poppy replied.

They walked past the flower beds and the quieting midway. Leo kept his hands at his sides instead of practicing a toss with his ribbon. He wanted to remember how the ring had moved: low over the grass, then a little tip, then right onto the horn.

“I thought I had to throw harder,” he said. “But I only needed to aim better.”

“And lower,” said Poppy.

“And lower,” Leo agreed. “Next time, I’ll try that first.”

A castle guard waved to them from the garden gate. Leo waved back, taking care not to salute so sharply that his feather bumped Poppy. It nearly did anyway, and she ducked with a grin.

At the stone steps, they paused to watch the festival lanterns being gathered into baskets. The music grew softer among the trees. Poppy touched her blue ribbon, and Leo straightened his gold one.

“Good throwing today,” Poppy said.

“Good cheering, too,” Leo answered.

Together they carried their ribbons through the garden, listening to the last slow notes of the festival as evening settled around the castle.