Happy Hoard, Happy Life

Written for “Smogust’s Story Hoard”, prompt 7.

It always snowed on the mountain. Always. Until one day it didn’t.
Everyone gathered in the village square to peer up at where, for longer than anyone could remember, there’d always been a cluster of dark clouds, yet now was empty sky. They consulted records. They discussed ramifications for the river. They pondered what to do.
And, while the adults were busy with this vital pontificating, the children set off up the mountainside to explore.
By the time they reached the snowy part, already mostly melted by the unveiled summer rays, many of the littlest were tired and needed to turn back (a few older children accompanying). It was less than a dozen who started across the soggy snowfield. But they were bright and cheery.
Until they heard the howling.
Distant. Reverberating. Anguished.
The children drew together. Exchanging uneasy looks and clutching each others’ hands.
They pressed on a little further. Until the yowls were clear enough that everyone agreed it certainly wasn’t the wind. Best to turn back and let adults deal with it.
Everyone started home… except little Danny. He stood stalwart, his cheeks puffed and lips pursed and brows furrowed. Pondering with all his might.
“What’s up, Dan-Dan?” His older sister, Cathy, prompted. Keeping a snug grip on her brother’s hand.
Danny chewed his upper lip, his thinking face deepening. Finally he declared “I think it’s sad.”
“What is?”
“Whatever’s howling.”
Cathy looked towards where the eerie sounds echoed across the snow. People did always say there were monsters up here. She hadn’t believed it, not since she wasn’t a little kid, but now...
“I think we should go look.” Danny declared. “I think it needs help.”
“Hm.”
Now, Cathy was the Older Sibling. That meant she had Responsibilities, to look after her little brother and keep him safe.
But.
Danny was very good with animals. Already better than any of the adults at figuring out what was bothering unhappy livestock. He’d even befriended some forest critters, had squirrels who’d come down to sit on his shoulder and sniff his pockets. And he’d never tried to approach a dangerous creature, reading its signs to stay well away. Even as a true little.
She trusted his judgement.
So, after due consideration, in her best Older Sibling fashion, she decided “We’ll investigate. But carefully. Yeah?”
Danny nodded, and they followed the howling.
The cave was easy to see, lit up like a house window. And the howls were definitely coming from inside.
Slowly, carefully, breaths light in tight mouths, the children crept to the entrance to peer in.
Junk. The cave was full of junk. Objects piled high and haphazard on every side, scattered across the floor, shifting and rolling as if haunted. Some were natural, feathers and shiny stones and colourful beetles. Some were crafted, axes and pots and even painted knick-knacks. Some of it looked ancient, some almost new. All was quite battered and dusty.
Then Cathy gave a stifled gasp, squeezing Danny’s hand tight, and pointed out, amongst the shiny and colourful medley, the dragon. Larger than a carthorse, white as snow, yowling piteously to itself while frantically digging through the piles.
“What’s it doing?” Danny whispered.
Cathy, in a shrewd first-daughter manner, said “I think it’s lost something. See, this is why mum always tells you to put your toys away proper.”
While her voice had been just as low as Danny’s, the dragon paused, ears swivelling, then turned to peer towards the mouth of the cave. Its eyes widened and it drew itself up, the glow from its golden underbelly brightening unpleasantly, and roared.
“AHHH!”
“We’re sorry!” Danny gasped.
“We can help!” Cathy added desperately.
Not sure whether the dragon could understand, and figuring a peace gift was a good idea regardless, she shoved a hand into her pocket and pulled out her colourful mittens, which she hadn’t needed because of the warm sunshine. She held them out, quite as pretty as the other things she could see here, and shouted “For you!”
The roar petered out. The dragon stretched its long neck to sniff at the mittens. Cathy, in a fit of desperate genius, slipped the mittens on its ears.
The dragon blinked. It wiggled its wool-wrapped ears. It chirped. Happily.
Both children relaxed.
“Ok. What’s wrong?” Cathy peered at where it had been digging. “Have you lost something?”
The dragon bobbed its head.
“I’m not surprised.” Cathy muttered, sounding very like their mother. “Well, you’ll never find it like this. Let’s see…”
The dragon sat by the entrance and watched warily as the children started organising the piles.
“We should get adults to come make shelves.” Danny mused. “You can store so much more with shelves.”
But for now, they laid things out by type, moving from one side to the other, until the dragon roared, this time joyously, and leapt to grab something Danny just uncovered.
A snow globe. The dragon cooed and nuzzled it, like a baby who’d just been reunited with their blankie. It rolled the globe back and forth, the flakes inside swirling… and a cloud fell over the cave entrance.
“Oh!” Cathy gasped, eyes widening. “That’s why the snow went away!”
She grabbed Danny’s hand and bustled him out, desperate to get home safely.
The adults listened, amazed. And, when the next day there was no snow, Cathy and Danny led adults - bearing tools and materials and colourful trinkets - up the mountain.
This time the dragon was waiting - and welcoming. And its excitement turned to wonder as the humans demonstrated shelves. And proper organising. Before long the cave was neat as well as cosy, and the dragon insisted all the humans take a present home with them.
After that, the mountain was usually snowy. And, on the days it wasn’t, you could take a pretty trinket up to the cave and trade it for another. Or just admire the dragon’s collection.
Foremost the snow globe, which had its own special shelf, and was never lost again.

I took the prompt as “On a snowy mountainside there is a cosy cave. In the cave lives a dragon. The dragon owns a magic snow globe.”