Nellie bolted into Nathalie’s wide arms. She squeezed her tight, feeling too safe and warm to pay any heed to Nathalie’s angry, hysterical scolding. She deserved it anyhow.

“How’re you holding up, Mr. Mage,” the young woman asked, unceremoniously half-dropping Amias on the path. “Did that dragon ooze on you?”

“I-I–?”

She grabbed Amias roughly by the shoulders, twisting him here and there like he was a present she was inspecting. She abruptly dropped to a knee, grabbing his leg with force enough he had to grab Nathalie, who in turn grabbed Nellie, to stop from falling over.

“Looks like it got your leg,” she said. She pushed it away as if disgusted. “Luckliy, you were fighting in the stream or you would’ve lost it by now.” She shrugged. “Or died. Maybe both.”

Morgan was staring at this young woman—though Nellie was starting to wonder if she was old enough for the descriptor—with rapt attention. “Who are you,” he asked incredulously.

“Your salvation,” she said snarkily. “Well, come on. You can collect yourselves at my room.”

It was embarrassing to discover that they had been circling between the Gap Cave and the Skylight Cave. It took an hour of stumbling through the dark woods before they saw the welcoming twinkling of Cumberland Gap. The town had a sleepiness to it even though it could not be later than 6PM.

Nellie dragged herself after the young woman, trying to close the distance to question her or thank her. But, she was too tired to keep pace with her brisk strides across the Iron Furnace parking lot.

“Our car–,” Nathalie started weakly, not able to put fight into it.

“Your magic man needs food. You’ll have something to eat first.”

“And I have questions,” Nellie said.

“Of course you do.” She quickened to a trot. “Hurry up. I’m going to feel bad asking for extra if they’ve already made dinner.”

They arrived at a building, or two buildings, that were very old. The smaller was a log construction that was as tall as Nellie’s and Nathalie’s single-story house, except the presence of upper windows let it be known it was two-story. The metal roof butted up against the other building at the halfway divide. This building was truly two-story and old, but not nearly as ancient. The siding was also wood, but not exposed logs. There was a gentle eek-fup, eek-fup, and a gurgling that indicated a water wheel nearby.

“The bed and breakfast,” Morgan whispered to Nellie. “I’ll have pancakes yet.”

Nellie was first in behind their mysterious rescuer. She shuffled awkwardly to make room for the other, feeling very much like she entered a stranger’s house without permission. She was distracted away from looking over the decor by a woman older than Nathalie bustling over to meet them.

“I found lost hikers,” the young woman explained. “Think they could eat something before I take them to their car?”

“Pancakes,” Morgan chimed.

“That shouldn’t be much trouble,” the old woman said, eyeing them.

“Thanks; I’ll bring them to my room for now.”

The four of them–prompting in Morgan’s case–muttered their thanks to the woman as they passed.

The room had a clear theme: sunflowers. The bedspread was bright yellow to match the large painting of a sunflower field that hung over the bed. There was a sunflower embroidered pillow on a blue, wing-backed chair. A sunflower footstool nearby.

Their rescuer was young, easily being college-aged like Ira. She had brunette hair that brushed the tops of her shoulder, and wore half braided back to keep it from her face (presumably not fully braided to keep her neck warm). She struggled to unlace heavy leather boots that went up her calves, kicking them off next to the footstool before dropping in the blue chair. Her striking green eyes went to each of them before settling on Nellie.

“Go ahead.”

“Um… I don’t–?”

“Questions. Ask them. Pancakes don’t take long.”

Nellie’s cheeks tinted. She could feel everyone staring. She fidgeted with her jacket zipper.

“I’ll give it a start,” Amias said. “Thank you, young lady, for swooping in when you did.”

“Heard her screaming bloody murder,” she said, pointing flippantly at Nathalie. “Thought maybe a bear was being naughty. Then he,” she pointed to Morgan, “started yelling about dragons.” She snickered. “Then the calls for Ira.” She set her gaze on Nellie again. “Are you Nellie?”

“Y-yes,” Nellie stammered. “How–?”

“How many people know Ira and get caught up with dragons?”

“You’re… Penny,” Nellie said carefully.

“I am.”

“Ira’s girlfriend,” Nathalie said, unsurely.

Penny’s face darkened. “Is that what he’s saying,” she growled. “I’ll murder him!”

A knock at the door interrupted them. Penny shot up, put her hand on her belt–which was full of small pouches and sleeves that suspiciously looked to house knives–and opened the door a crack. Then wider to show the rest of the room to the old woman.

“Pancakes are on the table,” she said, craning to see where each person was in the cozy room.

“Thanks,” Penny said. “I’ll bring them down shortly.”

She dropped next to the bed, lying on her stomach.

“Forgive me, young lady,” Amias said, watching her with bemusement. “How is it that you are… acquainted with his highness? You sound American.”

“I am American,” Penny said, straightened with a pair of slippers in her hand. She pointed a slipper at Nellie. “So’s she, and I don’t hear you questioning her.”

“Am I American,” Morgan mused.

“Seems like you’re outnumbered, Mr. Mage. And we have home field advantage.” She jumped to her slippered feet. “Let’s get you fed and out of here.”

Nellie trotted after Penny with Morgan elbowing her to give him the lead. She could tell her pants were not regular jeans. They looked too heavy, the color too dark. She swayed slightly trying to see if they had tinplate woven in like Ira’s coat, but failed to see any metallic sheen. Her drab colored shirt had none that she saw, but it did have defined wrinkles on the otherwise loose sleeves as if they were normally bound in long gloves or braces.

“Should we call the Order of Ferblanc about the dragon,” Nellie asked in a low tone.

“Those snobs? Oh, right, you’ve met Ira,” Penny said, visibly rolling her eyes. “That’s not really their job. They're more around to keep people like him,” she jabbed her thumb over her shoulder at Amias, “in check if they go nuts on the population. More than happy to jump to if Ira calls though.”

“I don’t have a number for the Keepers….”

“They’re like that,” Penny said. “There’s a Conservatory not far. I can check in with them sometime tomorrow afternoon. I should be able to keep her in check until then.”

Penny led them to a long dining table. Plates set with pancakes were upon it. There was a jug of milk, a jug of ice water, and a small jug of syrup. Bowls with strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, and sugar sat in the middle of the four plates next to two cans of whipped cream.

Morgan hastily took the nearest seat and started heaping butter, fruits, syrup, and cream onto his pancakes. Nellie sat next to him, crinkling her nose at his efforts to get the large bites into his mouth. She chose to eat the fruit on the side like Nathalie and Amias, but helped herself to the whipped cream.

“Pardon for bringing this up,” Amias said, speaking quietly as the old woman walked the edges of the room. “You seem under the impression you can handle this… animal.”

“And you seem unable to grasp that you’re alive because I can,” Penny said loftily. She plopped a strawberry into her mouth. “I can’t take her down alone. I’m not stupid. But, I can’t irritate her enough to get her to back off.”

“Her,” Nathalie asked tentatively, as if not sure she really wanted to know.

“Ira and me figured all dragons are female,” Penny said, nonchalant. She waved dismissively. “Just our running theory seeing as our mothers both turned.”

“Yours too!” Nellie shrunk as the old woman whipped her head towards them. “Sorry,” she added, lowering her voice. “Yours too?”

“And yours, from what Ira told me.”

Amias narrowed her eyes at Penny. “Three women all curse, for lack of understanding. I was unaware there were so many.”

“Who’s your mother,” Morgan asked. He searched his syrup puddle for soggy chunks he missed. “Does she work for my father too?”

“Who is…?”

Morgan straightened as if smacked. “You don’t know my father,” he asked. He bristled. “The Regere of the Auctorita.”

“Oh, him,” Penny said. “No, she’s got nothing to do with him. She was more… freelance, I guess you could call it. Wait, shh.” She straightened, smiling a wide, forced smile. “Hey.”

“Good evening, Miss Penny,” a young man greeted enthusiastically. A pretty, young lady with a blonde bob hung on his arm. “The missus was hoping we could get that picture with Hodge tomorrow morning.”

“You said this morning he was too tired and to ask later,” his wife piped up. “If he’s up for it….”

“Oh, sure,” Penny said with forced politeness. “I was going to shoot some tomorrow, so he’ll be all done up.”

“Can–can he wear some flowers,” the wife asked hopefully. “I have my second bouquet still from our solo pictures.”

“Sure,” Penny said, her smile starting to look uncomfortable. “I can add them last. You can help.”

“Oh my goodness, really! Thank you so much! I’m such a huge fan! He’s so, so, magical, and whimsical, and–.”

“Okay, honey, let’s leave Miss Penny to her company,” the husband said. He smiled happily. “Thanks so much. You’ve made our honeymoon extra special.”

Nellie felt compelled to wave as the newlyweds retreated towards the stairs. She rounded on Penny, leaning over the table and keeping her eyes watching for further interruptions. “Hodge?”

“My unicorn,” Penny said, not bothering to say it quietly.

Nellie’s jaw dropped. “U-unicorn?”

Penny pulled out her phone. She tapped and swiped, and held it up for Nellie (and Morgan, leaning in) to see.

The Instagram was full of tiles featuring a gorgeous white stallion with a long, white mane and shimmering, golden dapples. In the center of his forehead, splitting his forelock, was a long, spiral horn that started black and ended red at the tip. He had large, expressive brown eyes that looked far more intelligent than those of a regular horse.

She tapped one of the photos. This one had Hodge laying with his cloven feet curled into his body. His lion-like tail was tied with a red ribbon to match the ribbons braided into his mane. His small goatee had a little curl styled on the end. Roses were strewn about and a graphic stamped on the picture wished people a Happy St. Valentine’s Day.

“This was one of my favorites,” Penny said fondly. “He’s so handsome in red.”

“It really is a unicorn,” Nathalie said weakly, glancing over.

“You post this creature online,” Amias asked, his brows furrowed.

“Why not,” Penny asked, clicking her phone off. “It’s not like people think he’s a real unicorn. He makes bank on social media. All I need to do is keep my photography skills up, and we’re set.”

The old woman inched away from her wall, approaching with a kind smile and opportunistic eyes. “It’s rather late,” she said. “We do have rooms available.”

“We really can’t,” Nathalie said before either Morgan or Nellie could speak. “The pancakes were very good. I’ll gladly pay for the lot.”

“Put it on my room,” Penny said. She stood. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

Nellie felt overwhelm rise in her chest as everyone climbed to their feet. There were far too many things to ask Penny, or just to simply talk over. It was clear that Nathalie would not budge on leaving that moment, and Amias would very well back her up with how they have come to some sort of understanding. She hurried after Penny, away from the proprietor and the spare other guests coming to sit in the comfortable chairs scattered about.

“Wait,” Nellie pleaded.

“Yes, you can meet Hodge,” Penny said.

“Cool, but I wanted to ask about,” Nellie lowered her voice, “Ira. Is he okay? Is he here?”

“His daddy has him working,” Penny said with a bite. “He keeps his phone off when that happens.”

There was a small park across from the bed and breakfast, with a single line of parking off the street. There was only one vehicle present; an old, red pickup truck with a shiny, new horse trailer attached to the hitch. It was not a large trailer or large truck, but the combination took up nearly half of the parking spaces.

Hodge was more beautiful in person despite being half-asleep in a dark trailer. The weak streetlight that managed to penetrate the trailer caught his dappled fur, making him look like he sparkled with golden moonlit.

He raised his head, his eyes fluttering. He snorted angrily and threw his weight against the trailer.

“Ssh, Hodge,” Penny cooed. “I’ll get rid of them.” She waved a hand at Amias and Morgan. “Give him more space. He dislikes men.” She looked at Nathalie. “And… if you could step away a bit too. He won’t be outright aggressive, but the whole maiden thing with unicorns is very real.”

Nellie hesitated as they arrived at the Crown Victoria. Ira was accounted for, in an unsatisfactory way. That was the main reason she wanted to find the Cumberland dragon, finding the dragon was a bonus. If such a terrifying event could be called that. She accomplished what she meant, and even got to see a real unicorn. Even still, she could not open the door.

“Nellie,” Penny said, starting her back to attention. She handed her phone over. “Put your number in. We’re keeping in touch.”

---

Nellie thought that once Amias took Morgan back, that life would slip back to the doldrum as it had after Ira left. That was far from the case.

---------------------------------

The lore with the Cumberland dragon is that it oozes this blood red junk that'll kill you if you don't submerge it in water. Apparently, the native tribes retold that bit of info to the calverymen that found the dragon. The dragon is also called 'goosefoot' because of the tracks (I forgot to say that in the 15th chapter).

Penny intro! Ira, Penny, and Morgan were the characters most needed to be infroduced in this, and now they all are. I liked the idea of Penny posting Hodge all over Instagram while everyone else in the Realm is all 'we should keep things hush-hush because panic'.

I couldn't fit it because of the clunkiness, but since Hodge is hostile to men, disgruntled by boys, and wary of non-virgin females, then his whole photoshoot with that bride is problematic. And when the photoshoot is problematic and Penny can't detter the fan any longer, then she says something about him being skittish/tempermental, and holds a halter on him to keep him more calm. Which is how she's recognized because she's in way more of Hodge's pictures than she would like.

There was only ever recorded a single account of the Cumberland dragon; all the way back in 1794. The story was printed in the Knoxville Gazette first, and then reprinted in papers stretching all the way up to the northeast. The account gave a location: Cove Creek.

It bordered North Carolina, making the cramped drive in the Crown Vic long and unpleasant. Nellie had not expected Nathalie to go with them on their dragon searching quest, but it was pointed out by Morgan as they whispered to each other in the backseat that taking ride shares over long distances as they had was unusual and generally frowned upon.

They found Cove Creek to be mountainous and just as rural as Cumberland City, if not more so. They tried searching for a spot to stop and gather some information, or to stretch their legs after the four hour drive, but there was nothing. There were hiking trails and an RV park nearby, but nothing where they could ask about dragon lore or even get something to eat.

“We should’ve brought Ash,” Nellie mused aloud, staring at the abundant woods.

“No,” Nathalie said flatly.

They succumbed to their hunger and pulled off at the RV park to get directions to food. After a five minute drive to what was considered civilization–a three-lane road with a Dollar General and a lot of open spaces–they found a small, wooden building scarcely larger than a shed surrounded by a dirt lot. Several cars were parked, and the picnic tables boasted clusters of people.

“This looks quick enough,” Nathalie said. “Shall we?”

Amias eyed the shack dubiously as they approached. His complexion turned ashy as his eyes scanned the menu on the side of the building.

“Cash only,” Nathalie murmured. She dug around in her bag. “I do have cash somewhere….”

“Taco… salad,” Amias half-whispered. “What…?”

“Corn dog,” Morgan mused, cocking his head.

Nathalie only had a twenty on her. She carefully factored in the tax, and ordered the food and three waters. She ordered a corn dog for Morgan, a BLT for Amias—Nellie suspecting she believed that would startle his spoiled palate the least—and grilled cheese with a side of cheesy tater tots for herself and Nellie to share.

Morgan gagged on the very first bite of his corndog. Amias grimaced painfully, but managed to eat the BLT. Nellie did not mind her food in the least, and managed to peacefully share it and one of the waters with Nathalie.

“Where do we venture from here,” Amias asked, carefully wiping his mouth with a paper napkin. “I saw nothing of the sort in the way of information. No library. Not even an info kiosk.”

“You would think there would be some type of tourist trap if the area had a dragon story,” Nathalie said.

“We can ask locals,” Nellie suggested. “That’s how I figured out Ash was a smoke wolf before our internet was installed.” She frowned as Morgan gagged again on his half-eaten corndog. “I should probably do the asking….”

“Will you gentlemen excuse us for a moment,” Nathalie asked. She led Nellie a few feet away. “I’m not fully comfortable with you walking up to strangers, but I should keep an eye on Mr. Baig and Morgan. Prevent them from assisting you, to be blunt.”

Nellie smiled appreciatively. She practically bounded over to the woman in the order window.

“What can I get you, sweetie,” the woman asked.

“Nothing; we just ate,” Nellie said. “I really liked all the cheese you had on the tots. I had a question about the area, and figured you might know.”

“I might… depending on the question. Go ahead.”

“Is there a dragon story,” Nellie asked. She laughed a little. “Sorry, it’s kind of weird. My little cousin over there said he read about a Cumberland dragon in Cove Creek, and he got all excited.” She leaned forward and whispered, “He’s too shy to ask.”

“A dragon story,” the woman mused. “That’s not what I expected.” She hummed. “Nope; can’t recall them mentioning it in school neither. But, if it’s called the Cumberland dragon, maybe it’s nearer Cumberland Gap?”

“Is that near here,” Nellie asked, trying to contain her excitement.

“About two hours, maybe two and a half if the weather ain’t good. Me and the family drive through once or twice a year to go visit the grandparents in Kentucky. There’s a few things to do if you’re the outdoorsy sort.” She shot a glance at Morgan before lowering her voice. “They got a cave. I bet you could tell him the dragon lived deep inside and really make his day.”

“That sounds excellent,” Nellie said, unable to sound mature through her wide smile. “Thanks! And thanks for the food! I’ll make sure to leave you a good review.”

She skipped back to Nathalie and the others with this promising lead.

---

It took a lot of begging and pleading to convince the adults—mostly Nathalie—that they should take an extra trip to Cumberland Gap. She made it known throughout the drive that they could not stay long as they were already going to be stuck in rush hour traffic at least once getting back.

Cumberland Gap, Tennessee was less than a dozen streets nestled in the Cumberland Mountains between the state lines of Kentucky and Virginia. They passed through the town in no time, and parked in the parking lot for the Iron Furnace attraction just across the Virginia border.

“Let’s check this furnace and leave,” Nathalie said. “We can’t spend more than fifteen minutes here.”

“What about the cave,” Nellie asked. “A furnace could be a dragon house, but so could a cave. We can’t skip it.”

“There are places to spend the night if we have need,” Morgan said, glaring at the slow-loading screen of his phone. “My pick would be the bed and breakfast.”

“We are not staying the night,” Nathalie said firmly. “You’re going to the furnace and the cave, forty minutes at most, and we’re leaving.”

They climbed from the car and took in the smells and sights of the hills, spotty in places but returning to green.

“Ah, nature,” Amias said with a grimace. “Well, suppose we should trudge along then.”

Nellie and Morgan took the lead, both because they were more than ready to run around the woods and because Amias and Nathalie were less than enthused to do so. Nellie paused from time to time to allow the adults to close the gap, eavesdropping on their complaints that mostly circled around on how far they drove and how much walking they would be doing.

“–all for a naught,” Nathalie whispered.

“Perhaps so, dear lady, but the children seem happy enough,” Amias said.

“Now, but when they fail to find this dragon, who’s to say?”

“I see it,” Morgan called from ahead, excitement apparent.

Nellie rushed to catch up and soon spotted a stone structure on the top of a small hill. It resembled an old fireplace with an extra wide chimney that appeared short compared to the girth of the body. She was not sure what she had expected when she heard ‘Cumberland Furnace’ but apparently an actual ancient furnace was not it.

She went to the information plaque that helpfully had a trail map. The Cumberland Cave was near with the route being more of a loop away and back than direct. It was likely the terrain that determined it, but she was up for some climbing. She lined up her finger with the mile ledger and set it across the map beyond the Cumberland Cave, eyeing two other cave locations.

“Cumberland Cave isn’t far,” Nellie said. “And there’s a second cave about two miles from that. It shouldn’t be much trouble, especially if we cut through the woods.”

“We are not wandering from the path,” Nathalie said.

“If I may,” Amias interjected. “I have no love of all this wilderness, but we are much more likely to attract a dragon off the path.” He smiled wryly. “Or rather, I am much more likely to attract a dragon.” He set his eyes on Nellie. “I do propose we stay on the path this time, and for as much as we are able towards the second cave.”

“Let’s go,” Morgan said impatiently. “You’ll make us turn around the longer we stand here!”

He ran off, his hazel eyes wild with adventure.

Nellie chased after Morgan with a grin across her face. Amias had agreed to the second cave. She bet she could coax them onto the third. She estimated it was twelve miles, which was not an easy hike by any means, but they had come that far so a bit farther should not be such a big deal. Especially if she promised to never talk about the Cumberland dragon again, as the adults were hoping.

They found the Gap Cave full of people waiting for a guided tour. Nellie went to locate the trail map.

“I doubt this has a dragon,” Nellie said matter-of-factly. “Onto the Skylight Cave.”

It did not take long before Nellie found a deer path wide and welcoming, and in the direction of the Skylight Cave. A bit of nudging got Amias and Nathalie to venture off the path–Morgan sprinting off into the trees also helped.

It was not much longer after this venture off the trail that they started to slow; a combination of the mountainous terrain, lack of water, and general stickiness from all the strenuous exercise. None of them wanted to point out that they could not see any hint of the trail. Phones were brought out to check the time and the service—none.

Nellie’s ears started to pick up every twig snapping. She had not paid much attention to what cryptids lived in Appalachia after discovering what Ash was since Appalachia was not exactly in her backyard. That seemed like a mistake now.

Amias let out a long, mournful moan that caused Nellie, Morgan, and Nathalie to jump. Nellie’s blue eyes darted to him, her heart pounding.

“My boots will be ruined,” Amias lamented, lifting to show the scuffs, scratches, and muck on the suede boots. His lip curled in disgust. “That better be mud.”

A shrill shriek pierced the air. The four of them ducked just in time as a dark, feathery bolt shot towards Amias. He frantically grabbed a stick, waved it, and erected a glowing dome over himself. The hawk screeched and scratched at it on its second pass.

“Shoo,” Nathalie ordered, flapping her arms. “Shoo!”

“I bet there’s a nest around here,” Nellie said. “Aww, I wonder if the babies hatched!”

“Perenelle,” Nathalie panted, “help!”

Nellie slipped out of her jacket to wave it at the disgruntled hawk. Her efforts with Nathalie’s managed to make it retreat. The three of them stood completely still, listening hard for if it was coming back. (Morgan sat nearby watching with amusement.) After a moment, Amias dropped his dome and Nathalie and Nellie relaxed.

“My eternal thanks,” Amias breathed. He shuttered. “Nature.”

“Only the predatory types, Amias, you’re too broad,” Morgan said airily. He slid off his boulder. “Now then… do we head back now? I did manage to see a plate of pancakes with whipped cream on that bed and breakfast page before I gave up hope of it loading.”

“No pancakes,” Nathalie said firmly, turning in place. “Back to the car, back to the house, and then you two will go back to Europe. Oh, blast it all, which way did we come from?”

They decided on a direction with all the confidence of a blind man crossing the highway at rush hour. Unease began to settle as the shadows caused by the sparse canopy deepened with the lowering sun. 

Nellie was no longer whispering tactics to break away to force Amias and Nathalie to continue finding the dragon. She doubted it existed. She clung to herself, giving a shiver at the dropping temperature.

“I refuse to sleep outside again,” Amias muttered under his breath. “I won’t. I won’t do it.”

A slight gurgling reached Nellie’s ears. “Water,” she murmured. She stopped. “That’s water!”

She led the charge to the creek, dropping in the mud and scooping handfuls of freezing water into her mouth. She slowed her drinking with her thirst quenched, narrowing her eyes to make out a track in the mud. She used her phone’s flashlight to illuminate the creekbed.

It was not a single track, but tracks. They looked like goose feet, but at least double the size and with a wider stride. The impression in the mud was much too heavy for a regular Canadian goose.

“I remember seeing many creeks crossing the trekking paths,” Nathalie said. “If we follow this, we may find one.”

“Anything to get back to civilization,” Amias grumbled. “Master Morgan, how are you fairing?”

Nellie crept along the tracks, ignoring Morgan whining his exhaustion and chilliness to Amias. The tracks led up the opposite back. She held her phone high, but the long grasses hid the footprints. She jumped the creek and scrambled up the bank.

“Nellie? What are you doing,” Nathalie called.

She strained to see beyond where her light shone. The back of her neck prickled.

The weedy trees whipped aside as a something launched up and towards them. All of them screamed. Nellie fell backwards into the stream, yanked out by Nathalie as she tried to bolt only to fall in the slick mud, trapping Morgan in her mad grab at him as well. She was jerked again, this time the other way back into the stream, as Amias shoved Nathalie towards the opposite side of the creek.

They stood (or slumped) divided by the creek and the creature; Amias on the side they had come from and Nathalie with the children on the side the creature had come from.

It was reptilian given that it was covered in scaly skin; Nellie seeing from her flashlight it was mostly black and brown, like the forest shadows, but with spotted dapples of light yellow similar to the sunbeams that managed to break the canopy. It did not have a long, thin snot like the dragons in her fairytales. It was snorter, more bulldog-esque, which somehow made the snarling worse.

The dragon stood on its two legs to around four feet. Its red eyes looked from Nathalie and the children, the rumble deepening in its chest, before swerving its white-tuffed head at Amias. It opened its wide mouth in a roar that sounded like an angry, dying bull. The red ooze dripping from its maw smoked as it hit the leaf litter.

“Find a trail back,” Amias urged, throwing up a shield as the dragon leapt at him. “I’ll meet you shortly! Go!”

Nellie could not move, or would not. Nathalie dragged her off by her arm before she figured out which. There was no knowing if they were running straight into the dragon’s lair. There was no telling what would happen by leaving Amias behind. She halted, hunching over and holding her knees. She wheezed and held the stitch in her side.

“We… can’t leave…,” Nellie tried to get out.

“He said… to,” Nathalie panted, clutching her chest.

There was a long pause filled with their ragged breathing.

“Do you think it’s your mother,” Morgan asked, still leaning against a tree. He was not as winded, but still gulped the air.

The thought had not crossed her mind. The moment the dragon appeared, her only thought was to get away from it. She had completely forgotten why they were looking for it. Although, her thought was more to find signs of Ira than to find her mother.

They shuddered as the dragon’s bullish roar sounded. There was a flash, a glow, from that direction.

“We need to find a ranger,” Nathalie said gravely. “Quickly!”

Nellie’s insides squirmed as they moved further away from Amias and the dragon. Her head swiveled repeatedly back for signs of either of them, her fingers biting through her jacket as she held herself. She flinched as another roar cut the sky.

“We can’t leave him back there,” Nellie blurted, spinning around.

She shut out Nathalie’s frantic screams as she ran back towards the creek. Her heart was threatening to burst from her chest from more than just the excursion.

Amias was panting, wet, muddy; his neat hair a mess. He took his eyes from the dragon when Nellie broke into the creekbed, a look of dumbfoundment on his face.

“Nellie–?”

The dragon bodied him, knocking him down with a hard ram of its head.

“Amias!” Nellie dropped, grabbing rocks and hurling them at the dragon. “Ira! Ira, help! Where are you?”

Her cold fingers failed to dig up any more rocks in her spot. She tried to stand to move spots, her knees giving out as she stared into the large, red eyes before her. She trembled, zeroing in on the blood red ooze dribbling from its snarling jaws. Her mouth dropped open to scream, but no sound came out.

The dragon smashed into an invisible wall, light spreading across the air where it hit. Its hot, rotten breath was not blocked by the shield.

“Nellie,” Amias croaked. His expression was strained as he held both hands up towards the dragon. “Move!”

She scrambled out of the creek just as the dragon broke through Amias’s shield. She managed a gasping scream as it smashed into the creek where she had been sitting. She hurried around and over to Amias, pulling at his arm.

“Come on,” she urged.

“G-go,” he breathed. “I’m too… exhausted.”

She sobbed, pulling at him but barely budging him. She threw her whole weight against him, slipped, and found herself lying in the mud. She was yanked and thrown, finding herself behind Amias.

His breathing was rough as he held up his shield. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his body shuttered each time the dragon rammed into the barrier.

“I-Ira,” Nellie called.

The dragon hunkered down and jumped double its height, clean over Amias and his shield. It landed behind them, snarling.

There came a pop, pop, pop, and a long hiss. Putrid, dark smoke filled the creekbed. Nellie was forced to shut her eyes, tears streaming to lessen their burning. Amias joined her in deep, hacking coughs. The choking, rumbling coughs of the dragon echoed over their own coughs. The sound of its tail snaking through the brush, of it crashing through branches, died away as it took off.

“N-Nellie,” Amias choked.

“H-here,” Nellie got out, the peppery smoke burning her throat. She waved her arms about, gripping Amias’s leg when she found it.

The gentle, constant breeze soon dissipated the smoke enough that Nellie felt it easier to open her eyes, although they still hurt and her vision was mildly blurry from the tears.

The slender figure of a young woman stood against the twilight sky.

“Ira, Ira, Ira,” her voice came mockingly.

Nellie squinted as a light was turned on directly in her face. She fought to stare through it to no avail.

“Ira isn't here, and I’m no prince charming.”

--------------------------------

Started this on my phone when I was up north. It was slow going, but got here in the end. With a dragon! Amias being magic means animals (mostly predatory types) don't like him. I thought to have a bobcat or bear show up first, but liked the idea of him being dive bombed by a sharp-shinned hawk. It was supposed to give an opening for Amias to complain about his energy=magic being depleted because of all the activity, lack of food, lack of water, ect. but it was too clunky.

“What about your next holiday,” Morgan asked.

Nellie was sweeping out Ash’s house while Morgan leaned against the doorway and watched.

They had apologized profusely after their failed attempt to find the Cumberland dragon. Nellie doubted how heartfelt Morgan was, but it was enough to convince his mother when he called her that evening. The following day had been quiet with them closely watched by Nathalie, Uncle Winston, and Amias when they were not shuttered in Nellie’s room.

Amias dropped Morgan off alone on Thursday, saying he needed to confer with the Regere. Morgan could not guess what the talk was about, and was not that interested in speculating on it. He was focused on finding an opening for their next adventure.

“Summer? No way,” Nellie said, shaking her head dismissively. “I’m surely grounded, and there is no way my aunt will let me out of her sight.”

Nathalie was in her workshop, half keeping an eye on them and half needing to get her prep work down for the multiple metal flowers she would be making for people to put in their gardens now that it was obvious the cold was gone. Or what people in Tennessee considered the cold; Nellie still found it a bit chilly.

It felt less weird calling Nathalie her aunt, but she still tried not to use it as a prefix. That did feel weird.

Nellie inched by Morgan with her pile of sheddings. “Besides, I doubt you’ll be out of your mother’s sight once you get home.”

“Ugh, you don’t understand how right you are,” Morgan groaned. He brightened. “What if you visit? Surely there are dragon stories we can look into in Lisbon.”

“But Ira was looking here,” Nellie said.

Morgan scoffed, “I’m sure his highness is pleased to have a moment alone.”

“There’s also the thing about my father not wanting yours near me,” Nellie said.

“Semantics.”

Nellie frowned. “Pretty sure that isn’t how you use that….” She wiped her brow, and leaned on her broom. “Finally! He’s shedding so much right now. Where is he anyway?”

“Ran off after a bird,” Morgan said, shrugging. He was boredly playing a matching game on his phone. “Still say asking for a summer visit is the best move.” He smirked a smirk that she had seen in the mirror countless times. “Unless you want to go the unscheduled route?”

“It worked so well this time,” she said sarcastically.

“Nellie, lovey,” Uncle Winston called from the front steps.

She forced Morgan to take the broom, hurrying towards the house while wiping her sweaty, sore hands on her jeans.

Uncle Winston had his packed duffle by the door. It was decided last night that he would order a rideshare in order to have an adult at the house with the kids; Nathalie being the obvious choice even had Amias been available.

He gave her a firm hug and clapped her shoulders, lightly shaking her back and forth. His expression was strained but not unhappy.

“It’s unfair I ask, but have patience with Nat,” he said. His blue eyes looked over her head, out the door. “And I urge you to be careful. Rhys was distraught, but adamant that this Regere fellow was dangerous. His son is a boy, but still a tread to him.”

“Ira didn’t seem to think my uncle was dangerous,” Nellie said, trying to be assertive but falling short. Morgan did not seem to like his father and it did not help put him in a more pleasant light.

“Be careful, Perenelle,” Uncle Winston repeated more firmly. He looked at his phone. “My car will be along shortly. I’ll meet it at the road to avoid provoking your furry friend.”

Nellie squeezed Uncle Winston. She gulped the lump in her throat, dragging her feet as she followed him from the house. She hung back near Ash’s house, waving as he rounded the curve in the driveway, disappearing.

“It’s nice you have an uncle that likes you,” Morgan said.

“You don’t?”

“My mother has no brothers and her sister is currently unmarried,” Morgan said.

She remembered Uncle Winston mentioning her mother’s older siblings appeared indifferent to the fact that she existed, and were blatant about not wanting to take her in. Morgan must have been blacklisted in the same manner. He had said their shared grandfather did not like him and did not visit; Nellie had been too surprised (and happy) by his appearance to pay it any attention.

“What about our grandmother,” Nellie asked. “Does she like you?”

He stared at her with a mildly disturbed expression. “What an odd thing to ask someone. Completely random.”

“We’re talking about family members not liking or liking us,” Nellie said flatly. She straightened to easier pull her phone from her pocket after a blop sounded. “Amias is heading back. He wants to know if you want anything to eat.”

“Will your aunt be making anything,” Morgan asked.

“Probably not,” Nellie said. “She’s cutting spoons. That’ll keep her busy for the next two hours at least.”

Nellie had Morgan make his opinions known using voice messages to save her from trying to text his complaints over the lack of options. The Wi-Fi was too weak near Ash’s house for a phone call or video call, saving Amias from being harassed.

Ash poofed nearby. He bounded towards them with his feet turning to black smoke and reforming. A dead bird hung from his mouth, and he looked unmistakably proud.

---

Nathalie let them eat their lunch in Nellie’s room. She had a sneaking feeling that Nathalie had warmed to Amias and with her friends lacking to nonexistent, was looking forward to some adult conversation. She was more than happy to let them chat and stay shuttered in her room with her cousin.

Morgan had demolished his French toast stuffed with ham and melted cheese. He picked at his side of fruit, either his stomach realizing it was stuffed or him being tired from the exhaustive pace he had eaten at.

Nellie was more controlled with her mac’n’cheese. She never had it with chicken in it before, and was having a good time finding pieces of tender chicken in every few bites.

“She sends me sweets and visits much more often than our grandfather,” Morgan said.

“Uh… what?”

“Our grandmother,” Morgan said, a ‘duh’ was implied with his tone. “You asked if she liked me. She does. Or tries to.”

“I asked almost two hours ago,” Nellie said. She poised her fork and stabbed it as if hunting with a harpoon. “What’s she like?”

They spent the next hour exchanging grandparent stories. Morgan had no connection to Rhys’s side, but seemed to enjoy the comparisons between Granddad and Grandfather Agarwal and listened to Nellie describing Nana in polite perplexity. Didi Eileen apparently was more into juice bars and styling her hair to show off how gracefully she was aging than knitting, baking, and making Christmas crackers.

“She sounds oddly glamorous,” Nellie said. She sighed wistfully. “I wonder if my mother is anything like her?” She laughed. “She didn’t pass any glamor to me. Maybe that's nurture, not nature?” She awkwardly moved the last bit of mac’n’cheese around. “Has she ever mentioned me?”

“Of course not,” Morgan said. He must have noticed Nellie’s glumness, because then he hastily added, “Never to me, at least. You know they see me as a child. They never say anything to me.”

She fought the urge to tease him for being younger.

“Ready for the madeleines,” Morgan asked, grabbing the styrofoam box that contained six nutty madeleines.

“Start without me,” Nellie said, setting her fork down. “I’ll need a minute.” 

She crinkled her freckled nose as Morgan shoved a whole one in his mouth. It was weirdly fascinating watching his cheeks get smaller as he chewed.

“You know something,” Nellie said as a thought popped into her head. “I never asked what it is your dad does.” She was unable to get an answer with Morgan’s mouth so full. “I know it’s not anything involving the Order of Ferblanc, because Ira told me the knights were people sensitive to magic but not magic. And that they go around and cancel out mage stuff if it’s too dangerous or something. What was the other one he mentioned?”

She went to the small notepad she kept near her bed–now that it was safe to do so with Ash outside fulltime. She had added notes ever since Ira left, having the suspicion that random scrap paper would not suffice beyond the list of cryptids the old people at the coffee shop had mentioned months ago.

In the first few pages she put the mentioned cryptids, giving each a page to themselves should she need to add more like she had with the white screamer and gryphon (ex: Cecily). The Order of Ferblanc followed, and the page after is where she wrote: Keepers.

“Is the Regere involved with the Keepers. Or Stalkers,” Nellie asked. She frowned. “ Kind of a terrible name. But, Ira said his parents were called Stalkers. Is that how all of you know each other?”

Her cheeks burned as Morgan laughed at her. Everyone seemed to forget that she knew absolutely nothing about any of this four months ago.

“The Regere is the leader of the Auctorita,” Morgan said with an air of superiority.

“I’m sure I’d be so impressed if I knew what that was,” Nellie said dryly.

“For crying out loud, you really are naive,” Morgan said. “Don’t glare at me, Nellie; it’s true. Not your fault.” His eyes shot to her notebook. “Is that all you know? Give it here. I want to see what you’ve been kept in the dark about.”

She begrudgingly handed over her notebook. It did not take Morgan more than a minute to get through it. She felt nervous as a frown overtook his face.

“So… am I on the right track, or…?”

“Think you can get me some milk or something,” Morgan asked. “The madeleines are good, but you can’t eat cakes without a drink.”

That could not be a good sign. She opted not to force him to answer, gathered their used dishes and containers, and eased out of her room. She froze as Nathalie’s and Amias’s low voices leaked out from the living room.

“--brat,” Nathale said. “Forgive the bluntness.”

“Forgiven tenfold,” Amias said. “I was nearly five years sober before he appeared outside the townhouse.”

“I worry his influence on Nellie,” Nathalie said. “Even when Rhys disappeared to join that Order, even with Nellie popping up with stories of fantastical animals, I still felt I could handle things. But now… magic, and dragons, and who knows what else.” Nathalie’s heavy sigh reached the hallway nook where Nellie hovered. “Perhaps I’m losing my grip because our relationship has changed.”

“It is quite a lot,” Amias said. There was a pause. “I do have a thought.”

Nellie internally admonished herself for her timing. Her precarious pile in her hands was tripping too much for her to sit still any longer. She gave the baseboard a tap with her foot to let them know she was coming—the idea being to keep them comfortable so she could attempt to listen in after dropping off the plates—paused, and entered the living room.

She stole looks at the two adults as she poured glasses of milk. They were murmuring pleasantly about nothing important.

“Nellie,” Morgan called, sticking his head out of the door. “What’s keeping you?”

“Enjoying yourselves,” Amias asked.

“We will be,” Morgan said. “I think it’ll be great fun explaining the Auctorita, and all such things. There’s so much she doesn’t know!”

Amias and Nathalie both turned shades of gray.

Nellie went back to her room, pleased with their reactions. She settled on her bed, criss-crossing her legs, and leaning towards Morgan with anticipation.

“Where to start…,” Morgan mused. His brows knitted. “Perhaps with the question; have you ever heard the phrase ‘protector of the realm’?”

“Um, sure,” Nellie said uncertainly. “It’s part of a Game of Thrones meme with long titles. I wasn’t allowed to watch it for obvious reasons, but I did hear it ended horribly.”

“A meme,” Morgan groaned. He drew in a breath. “It’s taken from history. They were seen as the first and last defence of the realm.”

“Which was… the kingdom, right?”

“Yes… and more,” Morgan said. “The Lord Protector had deep ties with the House of York, becoming one and the same with the ruling king at times. In the Medieval Ages, the Lord Protector used his power to influence Rome to put more resources into their demonologists which led to the creation of the Order of Ferblanc. At the same time, he recruited very specific peoples–magically sensitive, good with creatures types–to be keepers and stalkers on the lands.”

“So, Ira’s ancient family created the Order of Ferblanc, the Keepers, and…?”

“And, as a result, the creatures, monsters, and magic became things of folklore,” Morgan said. “But, not for real. Now, we refer to this world hidden in the world as the Realm, and both factors still practice as they did ages ago.” He grinned impishly. “Oh, and we still have a Lord Protector, but right now we just call him King Clayborne York.”

She choked on the milk she was sipping.

“Ira’s a prince,” she wheezed.

“Of course,” Morgan said. “Why else would I call him ‘his highness’ all the time?”

Her head was spinning.

“The Actorita was created as a sort of bridge between the Realm and the rest of the world,” Morgan said, reveling in her surprise. “The Regere–my father– and the King have to work together, but which one has real power gets contested. Which makes things between us awkward.”

“Are you a prince too,” Nellie asked weakly.

Morgan’s smirk twitched. “No,” he said coolly. “I’m just Morgan.”

“Thank goodness for that,” she said. “Is there more?”

His smirk returned, but a soft knock on the door interrupted them.

Nathalie was at the forefront with Amias hoving over her shoulder in the cramped space between the two bedroom doors. The sight of both of them, their expressions strained into mixtures of happy, authoritative, and calm, put Nellie on edge.

“We’ve been talking,” Nathalie said, “and since tomorrow is the last weekday of your holiday, perhaps we should go away.”

“I’m not grounded anymore,” Nellie asked.

Nathalie’s eyes flickered pleadingly to Amias.

“I thought a properly chaperoned dragon hunt,” he said. “Let the two of you have a last hurrah before you go back to your studies, and Master Morgan faces the wrath of his mother.”

Nellie blinked in surprise. She looked at each of them, not seeing anything to indicate Amias or Nathalie were lying, and feeling her excitement build as Morgan’s own exuberance bubbled to the surface.

They were off to find the Cumberland dragon.

-----------------------------------

Happy Thanksgiving! I didn't have time to read through it, but since I can't see how posting an article via my phone would work, I wanted this out now. I think I'll schedule it and see if I can edit it after I land. Phone editing should work, if needed.