The Rain-Warmed Passage

The salamander waited beneath the old stair, glossy as a coal pulled from the fire. Each rainstorm brought the same visitor: a girl with muddy boots, who left half her apple beside the clay jar and asked whether the sun had come back yet. The salamander never answered. It only edged closer to the warmth, and by morning the apple was gone, the girl’s footprints had dried, and one small golden scale rested on the step.