In a village at the edge of a soft mountain lived a dragon who did not roar. He was tall and silver and a little bit shy. The villagers called him the Quiet Dragon.
Other dragons stomped through the valleys and shouted at the sky. But the Quiet Dragon liked to sit on his rock and listen.
He listened to the river. He listened to the wind. And, most of all, he listened to the children — because children, he said, often know what grown-ups have forgotten.
One day, a small boy came to the rock. The boy was angry. His hands were tight and his face was hot.
The Quiet Dragon did not ask anything. He just sat. And waited. And listened.
After a while, the boy began to talk. Then he began to cry. Then he became quiet too.
When the boy left, he was lighter. The Quiet Dragon had not said one word — but he had heard every single one.
That is how the village learned: sometimes the bravest thing a dragon can do is simply pay attention.