The Dragon at the Lost Mitten Desk
At the edge of Pinewick Village sat a stone hut with a sign that read LOST MITTENS. Inside lived a small green dragon named Orrin. Every winter, children dropped mittens in the snow, and every evening Orrin sniffed them out and carried them home in his claws.
Orrin took the job seriously. He hung each mitten on a string, sorted by color, and kept a notebook. But he had one trouble. Mittens come in pairs, and he often found only one.
One snowy morning a girl named Priya came in. "I lost my left mitten," she said. "It has a yellow stripe."
Orrin checked his strings. He had a yellow-striped mitten, but it was for the right hand. He felt terrible.
Then he had an idea. He puffed a gentle breath of warm air onto the mitten, and the wool grew softly, stitch by stitch, into a matching left one. Priya laughed and pulled on both.
After that, Orrin always kept his fire small. Too much would burn the wool, but just enough made a perfect pair.