Wren was a little green dragon. Her tail curled when she was happy. Wren always loved to color. She colored suns with smiling faces.
    Wren carried her crayon box to dragon school. Her best friend, Pip, sat beside her.
    Pip was a red dragon. He loved to draw boats, clouds, and gold moons.
    One day, their teacher placed a sheet of paper on each table. “Today, we will draw our favorite place,” she said.
    Wren knew what she wanted to draw. She wanted to draw the hill behind her house. The hill had grass. It had white flowers. It had one old tree where birds made nests.
    Wren opened her crayon box. She chose green for the grass. She chose blue for the sky. She chose brown for the old tree.
    Then she looked at Pip’s crayons.
    Pip had a golden crayon. It was shiny. It was his favorite crayon.
    Wren looked at her picture. She wanted a golden sun. “May I use your gold crayon?” she asked.
    Pip thought for a moment. “Please be careful,” he said. “It is my special crayon.”
    “I will,” Wren promised.
    She took the gold crayon. She drew a round sun. She added golden rays. The picture looked warm and bright.
    Wren smiled. Then she pressed too hard.
    Snap!
    The crayon broke in two.
    Wren froze.
    Her wings became still. Her tummy felt tight. She looked at Pip.
    Pip was helping another child. He had not heard the snap.
    Wren looked at the broken crayon. One half lay on the paper. The other half was in her claw.
    She felt scared. Pip might be sad. Pip might be angry. He might not want to sit with her again.
    Wren quickly placed both pieces under a sheet of paper. She tried to keep coloring. But the picture no longer felt warm. Her sun looked too bright. Her heart felt heavy.
    Pip came back to the table. “May I have my gold crayon?” he asked.
    Wren looked down. “I do not know where it is,” she said softly.
    Pip searched his box. He looked under the table. He looked beside his chair.
    “I had it this morning,” he said.
    Wren’s cheeks grew hot. She wanted to tell him. But the words felt stuck.
    At snack time, Wren did not eat her apple slices. At playtime, she did not climb the wooden castle. She sat beneath the slide. The broken crayon seemed to sit inside her heart.
    Her teacher came near. “You look sad,” she said.
    Wren’s eyes filled with tears. “I broke Pip’s crayon,” she whispered.
    “Did you tell him?”
    Wren shook her head. “I said I did not know where it was.”
    Her teacher sat beside her. “Sometimes we make mistakes,” she said. “Mistakes can feel heavy when we hide them.”
    “Will Pip be angry?” Wren asked.
    “He may feel sad,” her teacher said. “But telling the truth is a brave way to begin.”
    Wren wiped her eyes. “What should I say?”
    “Use honest words,” her teacher said. “Then listen to his feelings. After that, you can help make things better.”
    Wren took a slow breath. She walked back to the table. Pip was still looking for the crayon. “Pip,” Wren said.
    He turned toward her.
    “I broke your gold crayon.”
    Pip blinked.
    Wren lifted the paper. The two pieces were still there.
    “I pressed too hard,” she said. “Then I got scared. I said I did not know where it was. I am sorry.”
    Pip picked up the pieces. His eyes looked sad. “It was my favorite,” he said.
    “I know,” Wren whispered.
    For a moment, they were both quiet.
    Then Wren opened her crayon box. “You may have my silver crayon,” she said. “It is my favorite.”
    Pip shook his head.
    “You do not have to give it to me.”
    “But I want to help.”
    Their teacher brought a small paper wrapper. She placed the broken pieces of the gold crayon together. Then she wrapped the pieces gently in the paper and taped it together. “Look,” she said. “The crayon can still color.”
    Pip tried it. A golden line appeared on the paper. “It still works,” he said.
    Wren smiled a little. “I will be careful next time.”
    Pip nodded and smiled. “And you can ask for help if something breaks.”
    They sat together again.
    Wren added silver birds to her sky.
    Pip added a golden moon above his boat.
    The broken crayon was shorter now. But it still made beautiful lines.
    On the way home, Wren thought about the heavy feeling in her heart.
    It was gone.
    She had made a mistake.
    She had told the truth.
    She had said she was sorry.
    That did not make the crayon whole again.
    But it helped make their friendship warm again.
    And that felt brighter than gold.

{Clyde Verhine ~ August 2026}