Linn walked across the meadow where the buttercups swayed softly. Suddenly, a tiny peep came from the raspberry bush. Out of the leaves poked a small head, blue and scaly, with a gnarled tail.

– Hello, said Linn carefully.

– Fnurr, answered the little dragon. My name is Fnurra. My warm breath is gone. Without it I can't take the Blue Flame's seed home to our realm.

Fnurra sneezed. Small sparks puffed out and smelled of cinnamon. But they were weak and ran like water.

– Where is your realm? asked Linn.

– The Meadow of Light, said Fnurra and pointed with his tail. The gate opens only for kind steps.

Linn took off her red boots and walked barefoot. The tickling grass blades whispered hello. Before them stood a big dandelion, tall as a flagpole. When Linn blew all she could, the seed balls spun and drew a glittering door in the air.

They stepped through. The air tasted of sugar pearls. The trees were like green umbrellas, and butterflies flew like painted leaves. Farthest away rose the Singing Mountain. At the top, said Fnurra, the seed would wake and give color to all of the Meadow of Light.

– Then we'll go! said Linn.

First they came to the Bubbly Forest. Amber-colored bubbles popped around them. A soft giant lay resting with his chin on a stone. His moss was thick and green as a blanket.

– I'm Softy, he rumbled kindly. Where are you going?

– To the Singing Mountain with the Blue Flame's seed, said Fnurra.

– Then you need this, said Softy and picked a small glittering scale from his moss. You probably dropped it, little friend.

Fnurra put the scale on his belly. Poof! A warm whoosh spread. His breath became golden and soft, like a fire that just woke up.

– Thank you, said Fnurra and blew a small warm swirl that turned the bubbles into happy soap bear friends.

They continued to Mirror Stream, where the water was clear as glass. A lake elf stepped onto a water lily, with drops in her hair like small prisms.

– I'm Pling, she chimed. The stream mirrors what you feel. If you laugh, it carries you.

Linn tickled Fnurra under the wing. They laughed, and the stream bubbled. The stream giggled back and lifted them onto a big water lily that glided light as a dream. On the other side Pling waved and threw a shell that sounded like a small bell.

The path became steeper and filled with Feather Stones that hopped when you stepped on them. Beside a gate of sun-yellow flower petals sat a gryphon chick polishing its eagle feathers.

– I'm Gry, it peeped. What do you have with you?

– A seed that must wake, said Linn and held out the small nut-brown capsule in her hand.

– May I taste a story? said Gry and smiled.

Linn told about her red boots, how they had splashed in rain puddles and trampled secret paths in her garden. Gry closed her eyes happily, shook her lion tail, and opened the gate.

At the top of the Singing Mountain, the air smelled of freshly baked pancakes. The mountain hummed low, as if it was waiting. Fnurra placed the seed in a small hollow. He took a deep breath and blew his warm, kind breath.

The seed glimmered. It cracked like a blue sapphire that smiles. Out of the ground shot a flower, tall and bright, with petals like flaming waves. Colors rolled down over the valley: blue as berries, green as moss, yellow as laughter.

The butterflies got their patterns back. The trees applauded with their leaves. Pling danced in a swirl of water drops. Softy lay on his back and let bumblebees land on his belly.

– It's awake, whispered Fnurra. The Meadow of Light gives thanks.

Gry gave Linn a soft feather.

– For your boots, she said. Or for your barefoot steps.

Fnurra nuzzled Linn's hand.

– If you want to see the Meadow of Light again, just come and blow on the big dandelion.

Linn smiled. She knew the way now. When they stepped out onto her meadow again, the buttercups swayed even more happily. In her pocket lay the feather and the shell. They sounded like friendship when they touched each other.

– Goodbye for now, said Linn.

– Goodbye until soon, peeped Fnurra and purred like a sun-warm cat.

And the meadow continued to sway, as if it remembered a song.