I bite, yet have no teeth to show, found in green where few will grow. Through drought and heat, I stand with grace, A guarded heart in barren place.

I start with leaves but never grow, I bring warmth when the cold winds blow. I use water, but not from the rain, steeped in patience, I ease your strain.

I have a lion’s strength and a scorpion’s sting, A creature of legend, with a deadly wing. What am I?

Born in the tropics, but not a fruit, I make desserts feel more acute. What am I?

When my number is four, I will make you sound strange. When my number is three, I bring a promise of abundant energy. But you might have to come and find me on the moon first.