The Dinosaur Who Lost His Roar

Pip was the smallest dinosaur in the fern valley.

He had small feet, small spikes, and a small green tail that wiggled when he was thinking. But Pip wanted one thing to be big.

His roar.

Every morning, the other dinosaurs stood by the warm stones and practiced.

“Raaaar!” called Toma the triceratops.

“Rooooor!” called Brindle the brontosaurus.

Pip filled his chest with air.

“Ra…” he began.

But only a tiny squeak came out.

“Eep.”

Pip looked at his feet.

The others did not laugh. They were kind dinosaurs. But Pip still felt like a pebble beside mountains.

“Maybe tomorrow,” said Toma.

“Maybe,” Pip whispered.

That evening, when the sky turned peach and the ferns folded their leaves, Pip walked alone beside the moon pond. He leaned over the water and tried again.

“Raaaar.”

“Eep.”

The pond rippled softly.

“I am not brave,” Pip told his reflection.

Just then, something rustled in the reeds.

Pip froze.

Out came a baby dinosaur no bigger than a pumpkin. It was covered in speckles and looked very lost.

“Mama?” it peeped.

Pip looked around. The valley was growing dim. The baby sniffed and took one wobbly step toward the dark trees.

“Wait,” Pip said. “Do not go that way.”

The baby blinked at him.

Pip wanted to call for help. He filled his chest with air.

“Raaaar!”

But his voice still came out small.

“Eep.”

The baby stopped crying.

It tilted its head.

“Eep?” it answered.

Pip stared. “You can hear me?”

“Eep,” said the baby.

Pip tried again, softer this time.

“This way.”

The baby followed.

Pip walked slowly along the pond path, making tiny eep sounds whenever the baby looked worried. The sound was not big. It did not shake leaves. It did not echo off cliffs.

But it was gentle.

And the baby understood it.

At the old fig tree, Pip saw the baby dinosaur’s mother pushing through the ferns. She was enormous, with a head like a hill and eyes full of worry.

“There you are,” she breathed.

The baby ran to her legs and made a happy squeak.

The mother lowered her great head to Pip.

“Thank you,” she said. “A big roar might have frightened him. Your small voice brought him home.”

Pip felt warm from nose to tail.

The next morning, the dinosaurs practiced by the warm stones again.

Toma roared.

Brindle roared.

Pip filled his chest.

“Eep,” he said.

It was still small.

But this time, Pip smiled.

“That is my lost-baby roar,” he said.

The others nodded very seriously, because every valley needs many kinds of brave.

That night, Pip curled under a giant fern. The moon pond shimmered nearby. Somewhere in the valley, a baby dinosaur gave one sleepy eep.

Pip answered with his own.

Then the whole fern valley rested.