There was once a small dragon. Very small. Who lived not too long a time ago. All too long ago. When he reached puberty, his inner life darkened. Powerful steam and gas were built inside his belly and in his mind and he noticed the Call of the great red dragon.
"Put fire to the world. Burn, world ..."
During his lifetime the red dragon was very feared. Whenever he had been in a bad mood, then surely a forest would catch fire or a church, or a few peaceful people would find themselves ablaze. People believed he was the source of even a volcano, into which he, according to legend, should have fallen into. Called large red spouter near Drachenwurzhausen.
The little dragon, very small, did not only feel the call of the great red dragon. He also felt the presence of light. A light that was able to stop any fire, that would spread inside him and began nourishing his needs, had turned his hard dragon skin in a gentle, skin-breathing dragon skin.
He was torn between the light and the call of the red dragon. Sometimes black smoke rose from his nose and he suffered terrible abdominal pain and his skin was stretched terribly all over his body and he imagined many young dragon girls rope skipping. In particular, the idea that around the dragon girls tails were tied colorful ribbons, how the dragon girls casually lifted the tails in the air singing and skipping the rope, let his inner glow, and drove him the steam from every orifice.
But then he opted for the light. His beautiful soft skin was always sought for very much all his life. He led a rich and eventful life and his only fear would never come true, that one of his adorable dragon ladies might put him because of his fragile skin in a pot in order to eat him. They were always nice to him and admired his delicate complexion, very delicate. And he remained small until the end of his life, very small. (There were rumors that he had sometimes worn young dragon ladies ribbons around his tender tail but this is certainly a lie ...)