On one dragon tree, sturdy and branching, unusual fruits grow. In May, large fluffy flowers bloom on it with the sweet aroma of blackberries.
When the petals fall, a firm green pod appears in the heart of each flower. By autumn, these seed-pods turn red and crack open, so the world can see the fruits of the dragon tree.
These are tiny dragons. They look like perfectly ordinary ones, only miniature. And they have wings, and can breathe fire—everything as it should be. Adult dragons spend whole days hunting for treasures. They search for them and bring them to their chests in the tree.
Colourful inhabitants flutter around their native home, like butterflies, bustling about, hurrying on errands, chatting and keeping quiet, lazing and working, sleeping, eating, dreaming, and singing songs.
The tree, full of dragon rooms, grows in an ordinary city park. Only those who are used to rushing and looking at their feet notice no wonders on it. And that's too bad.
Because all sorts of amusing nonsense happens there constantly, especially with the younger dragons.
Last autumn, from a beautiful seed with a lilac sheen, a purple dragon named Filimon hatched, but everyone just calls him Filka. His name was chosen by the old nanny, as were the names of the other dragonlings that appeared that year.
They were all named with the letter F. The previous year, the little ones were named with the letter U, and the next year they'll be given names with the letter X—it's all quite simple.
Curious Filka once asked what would happen when the letters run out. He was told that then a new tree would appear, and everything would start over. But for now, there's plenty of free space on this one, and there are quite a few letters in reserve.
Life bubbles on the tree and around it, like in a cauldron of rainbow soup, especially with the arrival of a whole harvest of dragonlings with the letter F!
