Zimble the dragon had a bit of a problem. Every time his little snout felt a tickle, a cloud of messy, gray smoke would billow out, covering his favorite daisies in soot. 'Oh, bother,' Zimble sighed, his emerald-green scales drooping as he looked at his dusty garden. He didn't want to be a smoky dragon; he wanted to be a helper. Feeling quite sad, he flapped his clumsy wings and wobbled through the air toward the Whispering Woods, seeking the advice of the wisest bird in the forest.