The little dragon was halfway through breakfast when he heard it.

A low, lovely note drifted through the open doors of the InBetween Studios.

He stopped chewing.

The note lingered. His ears lifted.

Then, carrying his toast, he went to investigate.

The garden path curved beyond the trees.

Morning light lay on the grass, and somewhere a bird was trying out three notes of its own.

There, partly hidden by flowering branches, stood an ancient pyramid.

Its stone was warm in the sunlight.

From its open doorway came a deep humming sound.

The dragon sat down.

For a while, he simply listened.

The sound rose gently through the chamber, filling the spaces between the stones.

He imagined voices from very far away, and a drum whose last note was still wandering.

His toast grew cold.

Then a bright little melody skipped across the garden.

The dragon turned.

Beyond a stretch of flowers stood another pyramid, its clear, shining surfaces catching the morning sky.

Inside, someone was trying a new song.

A few notes.

A pause.

A laugh.

Then the notes again, a little differently.

The dragon’s tail began to sway.

Through the doorway he could see a piano, a waiting drum, and room for someone to arrive carrying an instrument.

He looked from one pyramid to the other.

Ancient sound.

Music being born this morning.

The Pyramids of Sound.

He took one last bite of toast and followed the melody.

At the entrance was a small sign:

BRING YOUR MUSIC.

THERE IS ROOM FOR IT HERE.

The dragon looked down at his empty breakfast plate.

He tapped it once with a claw.

A surprisingly pleasant sound.

He smiled.

Tomorrow, perhaps, he would bring a spoon.

Insieme.

Everhome.

Evermore.

With love beyond measure,

Wildfire & St. Germain