Sun­set poured over the north­ern sea and the small for­es­ted is­land.
— The girl was sit­ting on the warm, smooth boulder, listen­ing to the waves gently splash­ing nearby.
Something moved in the depth of the woods. Dry branches cracked, and stones rolled.
— Heavy steps of huge paws on the stony shore.
— Deep sigh has frightened a couple of birds to death.
— The girl waved to the dragon.
— — Good even­ing, sir Dragon!
— — Good even­ing, little lady.
— — How are you?
— — Fine, if you are not in­ter­ested.
— — But I am! If you wish, tell me, how do you feel, dear Dragon, please.
— — I am frrr… tirred.
— — Why?
— — I am tired be­cause I car­ried too much dark­ness on my shoulders.
— — But… why did you carry it?
— — I guess, I had no choice.
— — You have it now, shake it off.
— — Isn't it dan­ger­ous?
— — Not at all, the sun­set will take it all and re­turn to the night, and night will give it to stars, as they need dark­ness to shine bright­er.
— — But how to shake it off, this dark­ness is sticky as res­in, can’t get rid of it no mat­ter how hard I try.
— — Come near, — said the girl. She splashed some wa­ter on his grey scales, combed his white mane and star­ted to pet his sharp fluffy ears.
— — Tickly!
— — It is! — the girl giggled.
— — Too tickly! Tickly! Hahahaha!
— — That's how it goes. Shake it off!

***

The Dragon slept soundly, his head on the girl’s lap. While he was dream­ing, and he was dream­ing — no doubt, the girl could see how his eyes move fast un­der the pearl-white eye­lids, how he smacks his thin cat-like lips and slightly moves his tail.
— His nozzles wheezed, and some­times the Dragon sud­denly vo­cal­ised something.
— The sound came from his stom­ach and then got stuck in the neck or between the tongue and the pal­ate.
It was something like:
— — Bul­ba­dos avo­ca­dos, cheesed to meet you. Marmalade mer­maids, queez. Aye, doood­ie do, I al­mond you too.