Chapter Two

Brender

“Brender, are you really going to go watch some kid all day?” Oliver asked, arching a brow. “Like all day? You’re giving up a Saturday to watch someone’s brat?”

“They’re short on volunteers this year. It seems no one’s in the holiday spirit,” I shrugged and checked my reflection in the television.

“Stop that! You’re going to get me killed!” My younger brother rolled his eyes at me. “Don’t you have enough rugrat time while you’re working?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, considering plucking the crystal out of the back of the television to make him lose his spot on whatever fighting game he was playing.

“I just mean you teach kids all day now. Five whole days a week,” he shrugged, still looking at the television.

“Someone has to prepare the next generation to survive.”

“I don’t believe our parents at all,” he shook his head. “You used to fight in the arena. That’s what they say.”

“I used to do a lot of things,” I shrugged again. “Believe it or not, if you live long enough you get bored of even the things you once loved. Besides, when fighting and winning grew too easy, it was time to retire and give the next generation a chance to hone their skills. You could try your luck in the arena. See if it runs in our blood.”

“I’d get my ass handed to me and you know it.”

“I’d help you work out,” I offered.

“Eh, unless they open up a Blast Face arena, I want nothing to do with it,” he laughed.

“Eh, to you too. Don’t forget they’re delivering the tree this afternoon. Since I’m not going to be here, you’re going to have to let them in. Listen to the delivery person on how to set it up, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“We’re getting a living tree. They’re going to come back and replant it after New Years. I shouldn’t be out late, but I expect to come home to the tree set up. You can do that much since you’ll be enjoying the holidays here too.”

“Fine. Whatever. Next thing you’ll ask me to hunt the boar for the butt roast,” he sighed.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to get out and do some flying.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“Nope. Not fat. Just a big lump on a log. Dragons are meant to go outside.”

“I’ll open the window, okay? How’s that? After this match, I’ll open the window and let some outside come inside and hang out with me.”

“It’s snowing,” I huffed.

“Oh shit! Really?”

“Yes. Don’t let it get everywhere. You’ll slip and break your tail.”

“Oh, brother,” he sighed. “I wish I was born closer to you. Then I’d have known you when you were fun.”

“You couldn’t have handled me when I was fun. I’d have worked you out to the scales.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re still a gym bat. I know. So be a wild dragon helper and have your sort of old person fun.”

“I hope you never find yourself in the situation where you’re raising a hatchling alone and need the help,” I sighed at him because growling and roaring did nothing to motivate Oliver.

I grabbed the two boxes of paper mache eggs I made a few weeks ago and headed out before I showed him a gym bat. I loved my baby brother but on days like this I understood why my parents were so eager to let him move from Starscale 3 where they retired a few years ago to come live with me.

“He’ll be lucky to ever have a hatchling unless they invent a way to make one through his video games,” my dragon chimed into my thoughts, rolling his eyes.

I didn’t have anything against video games in particular. I played my fair share of them from time to time, but I did worry about Oliver. Only today wasn’t about him. Today was about an omega dragon named Stellan, and his son, Saer. This was my third year volunteering for Wild Dragon Yuletide Helpers, a service provided by the flight, but my first year being sent to a different world to meet my little person for the day.

I drove to the ship dock and had to drive around ten minutes to find a parking place. Cars weren’t as popular as walking, but they did the job when you had a few clumsy things to carry like boxes of paper mache eggs for someone to wrap up yuletide gifts in. From there, I waited in line at the gate where my boxes full of eggs were the norm. Not everyone made eggs from scratch these days. There were fancy ones made by artisans that you could trade for, but I preferred to save up any paper trash that could be used but would have been burnt otherwise and make my own eggs for the occasion. These were blank slates and ready for a coat of paint. I never painted eggs that I gave away for others to use. I figured they might want to add their own flare to the packaging.

“Preparing for the holidays for your little one?” A little old dragoness asked behind me.

She was blonde but salt and pepper strands had started to adorn her hair.

“Afraid not,” I smiled over my shoulder and told her about Wild Dragon Yuletide Helpers.

“That’s adorable! It’s so nice that the flight keeps adding more children related services. You can never have too many hands or wings when it comes to a little one. I’m present picking for great and great-great grandchildren today. I read an interview one of the visiting Moonies did the other day and back where they come from you have to work to earn points and then use those paper points for everything! Could you imagine? How do they afford more than one hatchling? Even their leader only has two. Well, maybe three. There has been a rumor.”

“Can’t imagine,” I shrugged. “Do my best not to think about nightmares.”

“Ah, smart man,” she said as the shuttle pulled up.

I couldn’t help her aboard with my arms full, but I did let her go ahead of me. It was the least I could do with how much running around she must do with such a big family.

“I used to think that would be us,” my dragon chimed into my thoughts as we stepped onto the shuttle and spotted an empty seat.

“You used to think that we’d be a little old lady?” I teased the scaley beast.

“Ha ha. You’re not funny.”

***

An hour later, I waved goodbye to the grandma and headed to the volunteer hub near the station to check in. There, the line was short, and checking in was sweet and to the point. The volunteer organizer behind the desk was a short dragon who only came up to my chin but had big blue eyes and the smile that said he was here out of more than flight obligation, double checked that I had the right address and sent me on my merry way.

Snow fell in fluffy flakes of different purple hues mixed in with some white. Stellan didn’t live far from the station, saving me from carrying the large but light boxes too far. I stopped a block away, resting the boxes on top of the back of a public drinking fountain to call ahead. Showing up with big boxes of secrets to the home of a small child didn’t always go great. I didn’t want to ruin Saer’s holiday spirit or his belief in the wild dragons who flew into houses and laid their gift giving eggs under yuletide trees.

“Hello?” A harried sounding man said from the other end of the line.

“Hey! It’s Brender, your vol---

“Please tell me you’re not canceling,” he said in a rush of words.

“Nope. I’m a block away.”

“We’re the bright red house on the corner of---”

“I know. I have good directions. Are little ears listening?”

“Not at the moment,” he said, hesitation plaguing his words.

“I have two boxes of homemade paper mache eggs to make your life easier, but I don’t want to show up at the front door with them for obvious reasons.”

“OH!” Stellar said, relief flooding into the single word. “Thank you! That will make things easier! Come through the side door entrance. We’ll stash them in the storage room there. It’s the black door next to the purple rose bushes! Well, it’s too cold for roses right now, I guess, but it is the only black door on the house.”

“I’ll find it,” I assured him. “See you in a few!”