On one dragon tree, sturdy and branching, unusual fruits grow. In May, large fluffy flowers bloom upon it with the sweet aroma of blackberries.
When the petals fall away, a firm green pod appears in the heart of each flower. By autumn, these seed-pods turn red and crack open, so that the world may see the fruits of the dragon tree.
These are tiny dragons. They look just like ordinary ones, only miniature. And they have wings, and they can breathe fire—everything as it should be. The adult dragons spend whole days hunting for treasures. They seek them out and bring them to their chests in the tree.
The colourful inhabitants flutter about their native home like butterflies, bustling about, hurrying on errands, chattering and keeping quiet, lazing and working, sleeping, eating, dreaming, and singing songs.
The tree, full of dragon rooms, grows in an ordinary town park. Only those who are used to rushing about and looking at their feet notice no wonders upon it. More's the pity.
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 simply calls him Filka. His name was chosen by the old nanny, as were the names of the other dragonlings who 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 following year they will be given names beginning with X—it's quite simple.
Curious Filka once asked what would happen when the letters ran out. He was told that then a new tree would appear, and everything would begin again. 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 beginning with F!
