People called her Girl, or Nobody, or Hush, because she had never made a sound and no one had ever given her a real name. The night the snow fell purple over the peaks, she packed a crust of bread and started climbing. Under the mountain lived the dragon Vesper, who did not hoard gold. She hoarded names, stacked in the dark like cold little coins. The girl wanted just one. Her own.

Warm air breathed out of the cave mouth. The girl stepped inside and saw thousands of names glowing on the walls, each one a tiny silver coin. At the center coiled Vesper, huge and patient. 'A visitor,' the dragon rumbled. 'Most run. You climbed. Tell me your name.' The girl opened her mouth and nothing came out.

Instead of trying to speak again, the girl picked up a sharp stone and scratched one word into the cave floor: WHY. Vesper blinked, surprised. 'Why do I hoard names? Because a name is the truest thing a person owns. Hold enough of them, and you hold a piece of everyone.'

The girl scratched another word: SHARE. She did not want to take a name from the hoard. She wanted Vesper to GIVE one freely, the way a friend gives a gift. The dragon had never once been asked for kindness instead of a trade, and it stunned her.