Firebrand Risk
P.Track.11
November 10, 2025

The messages to Ira stayed unread for the rest of February. Nellie only sent one more, asking if he was all right, but that too stayed unread. She started to worry as mid-March crept by and took to searching the internet for any signs of Ira York whenever she was able.

“Boo!”

Nellie jumped, nearly dropping her school laptop on the floor. She frowned at Ava as she laughed at her, sinking into the seat next to her and pulling out her sketch pad.

“Mrs. Huffman is going to be angry if she comes in and sees that out,” Ava said. “You know she’s all upset over this AI art stuff.”

“I’ll put it away when she comes in,” Nellie murmured, keeping her eyes on the screen. The bright light mixed with her blue eyes, giving her a glazed look.

Ava pushed her glasses up her nose. “Clayborne York,” she questioned, leaning over to look.

Nellie tilted the screen down to distort the image of the middle-aged man with Ira’s blue eyes. She gave it a second of thought, and readjusted the screen so Ava could see. It was just the two of them in art class, and the other few students that arrived early did not so much as glance at them.

Clayborne York looked like the type of middle-aged dad Nellie would see in a soccer stadium waving a Manchester banner, and that was despite the expensive suit, neatly kept blond hair (starting to look duller with age), and the way he held his broad shoulders. It was something in his smirk, and the twinkle in his eye that gave the fun loving impression. He was more relaxed than Ira typically was, but not completely absent the weight Ira seemed to have during the times he would space out.

“I bet he was cute at our age,” Ava said, grinning widely. “Who is he?”

“Ira’s dad,” Nellie said. “The college guy that was visiting after I moved here.”

“And…?”

“And I haven’t heard from Ira, so was thinking of maybe emailing his dad,” Nellie said. She slowly shut her eyes with a groan. “Oh, wow, that sounded lame outloud.”

Ava frowned, chewing her words before saying them. “Eleven is probably too young for him,” she said tactfully.

“I’m twelve, but it isn’t like that,” Nellie said with a laugh. “He’s a family friend.” She felt that was not enough, and added, “Our fathers were cadets together.”

“Oh, so that’s why,” Ava said with dawning. “We couldn’t figure out why he was visiting after you told us he wasn't a relative. Wait… twelve? Since when?”

“Last Friday,” Nellie said, embarrassed.

Her cheeks reddened the longer Ava stared, clearly aghast that Nellie had kept her birthday quiet. She was saved trying to explain herself by Mrs. Huffman trotting into the room with the class bell on her heels. Nellie quickly put the laptop away. She made an attempt at drawing Cecily–poorly–while Mrs. Huffman droned on about texture.

Nellie had not been able to look at Clayborne York’s profile long enough to find a contact number or email. She would need to resume once he was home, hopefully on the laptop and not on her phone. It would be helpful if she was allowed to bring her school laptop home.

The person who would be able to tell her where Ira was, and convey a message to him, was probably Penny, but Nellie did not know a thing about her other than her first name. And, it was likely a nickname. In retrospect, Penny did not have an English accent like Ira did, but that did not help narrow down her identity.

She lingered in the doorway until the car rider monitor called her. She rushed to the pearlescent sedan with a wave at Emma and Olivia, giving them a small, fake laugh as she climbed in.

“Which ones are those,” Nathalie asked, giving them a wave as they rolled forward. “Shame all your friends were occupied last weekend.” She gave Nellie a strained smile. “Was school any more tolerable today?”

“Normal amount of tolerable,” Nellie murmured. “You haven’t heard from Ira, right?”

“From Mr. York,” Nathalie asked. “No. Not since he flew home. Are you having difficulty reaching him?”

“Yeah,” Nellie said. She dug her fingers into her knees. “I’m starting to worry. Should I call the Order of Ferblanc?”

“I… don’t believe that to be wise,” Nathalie said carefully. “I’m not exactly sure what it is they do, but Mr. York not calling them until the last minute when it came to that… thing, makes me believe they must be extraordinarily busy doing similar heroics.”

“It does seem extreme…,” Nellie said.

The larger of the two outbuilding–the one Nathalie claimed for her studio–had been fully outfitted with electricity. A bathroom was added, raising the amount of the property to two; Nathalie claiming foresight for Nellie’s approaching teen years. Ash’s house was still unfinished. Electricity and water had been added, but it was ripped to the studs and lacked a roof. It was slated to be complete as soon as Nathalie was paid for her recent ballerina statue.

“Can I use the laptop,” Nellie asked, shouldering her bag as she stepped out of the car.

“I suppose so,” Nathalie said. “Don’t lose track of time though, please. I’ll need you to pop dinner into the oven tonight.”

Ash had again destroyed her bedding. She did not bother to scold him, instead sitting on her bed and going into the recent orders tab to place another order for a comforter, pillow, and sheets. He was a wild animal with a supernatural flair. It was more their fault for locking him indoors and they had both come to accept that.

“You’ll be an outdoor dog-thing once your house is done,” Nellie said, patting his head. “I guess I’ve been worrying you’d run off and get hurt. Or just run off in general….” She stroked him, staring at the confirmed order screen unseeingly. “Please don’t run off on me, Ash.”

---

Nellie snapped thin branches, panting, as she tore through the forest. She leapt a fallen tree, twisting to see over her shoulder as much larger sounding branches broke. She tripped, tumbling head over heels through the dead leaves and mud hidden beneath. She stayed perfectly still as all the sounds vanished, waiting.

Black smoke elegantly wafted around her left side, bounced before her, and began to solidify into Ash. He crouched, hackles raised.

“No,” Nellie begged, half-laughing. “You win. You win.” She flopped backwards. “Let me catch my breath.”

Spring Break had started and it brought Nellie an enormous amount of relief to not go to school. A twinge of dread lingered in the depths of her mind, a mental countdown to when she would return to the tedium and mean stares from her teachers.

She climbed to her feet, shaking the leaves from her clothes. “Come on, Ash, let’s get back to the lady,” she said. “It’s got to be near lunch.”

She always referred to Nathalie as ‘the lady’ to Ash. In part, because Nathalie did not like to acknowledge Ash by his name, but also to avoid Nellie needing to definitively put a label on her. It was surprisingly easy to never say the words ‘mom’ or ‘aunt’ in everyday life. She knew it would need to be spoken aloud at some point, but that could wait until she was not enjoying the freedom of traipsing about the woods with her smoke wolf.

It was pleasantly warm, and the bright sun fell into the clearing before the small house causing the black asphalt to deepen. Birds pecked dropped seeds from the made feeders Nathalie had made, hopping along the tar happily.

Something made Nellie slow her casual pace, something that she could not put her finger on that stood out from the cheerful scene. Her shoulders tightened as Ash began growling at her side.

“Ssh, boy, don’t give us away,” she whispered, patting his head. She inched nearer, heart pounding and the hairs on her arm standing erect. “J-just… cover me.”

She stood back from the door, stretching to reach for it but not wanting to get any closer should she need to run away. She cringed as the door let out a slow, sharp squeak.

“Nellie,” Nathalie called, her tone strained. “Do hurry inside before the flies follow. Someone is here to see you.”

Inching into the doorway revealed a man in a tailored suit and a flamboyantly loudly patterned fuschia tie. He reminded her of Vincent Price but if he spent a lot of time in the tropics, his olive skin was either fully natural or the result of long, warm vacations. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties but the only lines she saw were crows feet that crinkled up when he smiled fondly at her.

She smiled nervously, warily eyeing the length of him. There was something about him that she could not figure out, some feeling she could not name. It was not hostile, just not usual.

“My, look at you,” he said, a hint of some accent. “You–.”

Ash snarled, poofed, reformed in front of Nellie, and lunged. He smacked into a barrier, light spreading through the air from his impact. He tossed his head about, growling and ready to spring again.

“Easy there, friend,” said the man, holding his hand before him. He stood like bracing against a wall, his face twisted in concentration. “Would it be inconvenient to put the creature outside?”

Nellie stared, mouth open. She snapped to after a few seconds. “Ash, outside, boy,” she ordered. “It’s okay, boy.” She tilted her head at the man. “He’s a friend.” She firmly urged Ash out the door and shut it to prevent him poofing around her back into the house.

“Friend,” he said, amused. He sat on the worn soft looking completely out of place, crossing his legs to reveal his socks matched his tie. “Perhaps when you’ve grown, but for now I’ll have to be content with godfather.”

“G-godfather,” Nellie stammered. She turned to Nathalie. “I have a godfather?”

“Godfather,” Nathalie cried at nearly the same time. “What on earth–? Is my brother a Catholic? Oh, I knew that group was some sort of cult!”

“Dear woman, calm yourself,” the man said, although he looked highly entertained. “The Order of Ferblanc is no cult, though it pains me to admit that. Perhaps they went through periods of cultishness, but that could be my distaste wanting more than anything.” He raised a sculpted eyebrow. “Or are you accusing his most recent association?”

“No,” Nellie said firmly, holding her hands at each of the adults like forcing them apart. “No, no, no! I don’t care about if my father is a Catholic or a cultist or former cultist or whatever. …Well, I do, but not right this second.” She pointed at the man. “Name. Please.”

His lip curled. He stood, and gave a sweeping bow. “Amias Baig.”

“And you’re a witch,” Nellie asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite her heart beating from her chest.

“Witch,” Amias said, scandalized.

“Wait, no, not a witch,” Nellie said. “What was it Ira called you guys…?”

“Mage.” Amias sat again, knitting his fingers on his knee. “Ah, yes, so the little prince truly was here. Oh, how his father fretted.” He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Sent inquires to us asking after him and everything. Poor child. Such a tight leash.”

Ira had been delayed by the white screamer and Cecily running off. It did not strike Nellie as unusual that his father would worry, especially since he was surely informed why his son was roaming about. Amias did not seem concerned about Ira. He could know where he was and why he was not looking at his messages. He could know about her parents, what happened to her mother and where her father disappeared to.

Nellie–and the adults–jumped as Ash let out a long, discontented howl right outside the door. She moved to let him in before recoiling, shooting a look at Amias.

“Ash doesn’t like you,” she stated.

“Naturally,” he said, nodding. “We magic types put animals on edge by default. It’s a dangerous thing, magic, and in some ways unnatural.” He laughed lightly. “Unless you are of the natural type yourself, but those are few and far.”

“Magic is… that weirdness I’m getting off you,” Nellie asked.

“Rudely stated, but yes,” Amias said. He lifted his eyes to Nathalie. “And you feel nothing, correct?”

“Confusion and mild anger,” Nathalie said wryly. “Are you staying long enough for refreshment, Mr. Baig, or do you need to be on your way?”

“Oh my, I like you,” Amias said coolly. “Tea. Preferably black. And, if you have a cake, I’ll take a bite.” He twisted to put Nellie more squarely in sight and Nathalie further from it. He gave her a sad smile. “You were so young last I saw you. When word reached the Regere of where you were, I leapt at the chance to see you.”

“The Regere,” Nathalie asked, stepping next to Nellie and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“My uncle,” Nellie murmured. “The one… Rhys didn’t want near me.”

Nathalie paled, she inadvertently painfully digging her fingers into Nellie’s shoulder. “Wh-what? But, how?”

“The Order of Ferblanc,” Nellie said, staring at the grain in the floor. “I gave my name when I called. They must've recognized it. Ira did.”

Nathalie released Nellie, stepping away to pace. She covered her mouth in horror, her brow furrowed.

“So… about that tea,” Amias asked. He tensed as Nathalie glared at him. “Water is also perfectly fine.”

Nathalie held her glare for a few seconds before snatching her phone up off the table. She stormed into her room, slamming the door hard enough to shake the walls. It was no great leap to think she was calling Uncle Winston as some form of reinforcement.

Amias stood and walked up to her. He put his hands on her shoulder before thinking better and raising them off so that they hovered inches above. He gave a snort, shaking his head with a smile.

“Suppose going right for a hug is too forward given that I’m a stranger now,” Amias said. His smile grew more fond. “You look a good deal like Brue. Have her freckles. Her smile, from the little I saw of it.”

“I,” she swallowed, “look like her?”

“I’d say you have a good mix, but I can see her in you, yes,” Amias said. He clapped her shoulders and returned to the couch, squirming about with a disgusted look. “My, this thing is tattered.” His warm, brown eyes wandered the floor, ceiling, and walls of the old, cramped house. “Well….” He allowed his words to trail into obscurity.

“Did you train with the Order of Ferblanc,” Nellie asked. “Is that how you and my father–?”

She abruptly stopped at Amias’s roar of laughter. Her face burned with embarrassment, her mind churning backwards to discover where she went wrong. She giggled nervously, grasping.

“N-no, that wasn’t right,” she said. “You don’t seem to like them.”

“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Amias said, wiping a tear from his eye with his finger. “Oh, how I needed that! Oh, my, come here.”

Nellie sat on the coffee table across from Amias. She took his hand as he offered it, still feeling embarrassed as he gave it a squeeze. His grip was strong, warm, and his hands soft as if he had never done any manual labor or even roughhousing. There was the smallest tingle on her skin where his skin touched, like the lingering effects of putting her hand under a tap that was too hot.

“Firstly, my connection to you comes from Brue more than it does Rhys,” Amias said. “Your father and I were amiable, but your mother and I were the best of friends.” His lip curled. “Rhys was too serious.” He patted her hand. “The Order of Ferblanc are the opposite to mages. They’re sensitive to magic but contain a sort of nullifying element in their person. They supposedly exist to combat when people misuse magic.”

“Did my mother have that type of sensitivity and… power, I guess for lack of a word,” Nellie asked.

“Oh no,” Amias said bluntly. “No, no, Brue was completely desensitized to magic. Hadn’t the faintest I was a mage, but completely unperturbed when she saw me do magic.” He laughed. “You’d have thought she witnessed me fold a duvet. Just a mild ‘oh, neat’. I was more surprised over her lack of surprise.”

Rhys had described Brue as flippant and airheaded in the first letters that mentioned her. Nellie had not thought much on it, perhaps because of how rigid Rhys came through in his letters, but having no strong reaction to witnessing magic was a point to her father’s assessment.

“Of course, once I was made aware that she was the Regere’s sister, it all made sense,” Amias said.

“Made sense… that she had her job,” Nellie asked unsurely.

“Made sense that she was desensitized and unfazed by magic,” Amias said, eyeing her carefully. “My lamb, has no one plainly stated to you that the Regere is a mage?”

“He is,” Nellie blurted. “I’m part magic!”

“It doesn’t exactly work that way…,” Amias said, amusement once more returning to his face. “Related to magic, perhaps, as in the same way you are related to him.” He chuckled. “Sounds like the little prince didn’t deem to mention it.”

Ira only mentioned the Regere was powerful. There was no actual reason he needed to mention that her uncle had magic.

“He did mention something else,” Nellie said, straightening. She set her gaze on Amias. “He said my mother was a dragon.”

Amias’s face flinched. “Did he?”

Nathalie emerged from her room in a whirl, causing Nellie to jump to her feet and Amias to straighten. She clutched her phone, putting a hand on her hip, and chewing the words popping into her head. She heaved in a breath and let loose a long, loud exhale.

“Mr. Baig, we should talk,” Nathalie said, her tone clear she was not requesting. “Nellie, please go see to that animal. He was clawing outside my window.”

“One moment, my dear,” Amias said, rising. He looked down at Nellie intently. “We will talk about it. Allow me to set your aunt’s mind at ease. She deserves as much.”

Nellie and Nathalie both avoided looking at the other. It was the first time someone had used ‘aunt’ with them together. Nellie gave a curt nod, and hastened outside before Nathalie could reassure or condemn the term. She shushed Ash, locking her arm around his thick, furry neck to comfort him and keep him still, hunkering beneath the living room windows.

There was a long stretch of silence before Nathalie broke in, asking, “Is my little brother a Catholic?”

“Seems an odd thing to fixate on,” Amias answered.

“You think so,” Nathalie asked scathingly. “I think it’s the perfect representation of how little I know about my brother. Of how much of his life he decided not to divulge.”

“The Order of Ferblanc has ties to Catholicism from what I understand,” Amias said. “They originally were the exorcism and demonology arm back in the Dark Ages, but split away the more the religion turned towards souls, the afterlife, and politics. Is that satisfactory enough?”

Nellie could hear the floorboards squeaking as they shifted. The squeak retreated, signaling to her that Nathalie was moving towards the kitchen. She would not be able to eavesdrop on what Nathalie asked.

“Crawlspace,” Nellie muttered. “Stay here, Ash.”

She army-crawled under the house, hissing over her shoulder at Ash to be quiet and stay put. She pushed the large, plastic tubs of junk out of her way the best she could.

“Rhys told our older brother that this… Regere is dangerous,” Nathalie said. “He was very clear that he have nothing to do with Nellie. Am I going to need to pack up and move now that he knows where she is, or is he content to respect Rhys’s wishes and leave her be?”

“The Regere is a complicated man,” Amias said. “At the moment, he expresses no want to interfere with Perenelle, but he does have a desire to meet her at the same time.”

“Is he dangerous,” Nathalie asked again, more firmly.

“Extremely,” Amias said. “His amount of power makes him so by default. Would he harm Perenelle is what you wish to ask. No. He would not.” There was a long pause. “Not intentionally. May I vent just a moment?”

“I suppose so…,” Nathalie said unsurely.

“I’m angry with Brecken over Brue,” Amias said. “But, I am removed enough from the family aspect to understand he is not fully at fault.” He cleared his throat. “More to the point we need to discuss, Perenelle isn’t a normal child. If–.”

“Of course she’s normal,” Nathalie snapped.

“No, she’s not,” Amias said. “That animal outside is proof enough without her confirming she senses my magic.”

Nellie tensed as the floor creaked over her head. She tried not to imagine Amias or Nathalie suddenly falling through, telling herself that the floor held so far and it was still strong. She did start to shuffle back towards the exit though. She could hear Ash still snuffling at the opening, scratching at the ground to widen it to enter himself.

She pulled out from under the house, pushing Ash back to climb to her feet. She smooshed his face, ruffling his head, and trotted off towards his house. She ushered him inside just as the front door opened.

“Nellie,” Nathalie called. “Oh, good, you’re shutting him away. Keep him in for now, please, and come….” Nathalie scowled, putting her hands on her hips as she looked Nellie up and down as she approached the house. “You’re filthy!”

“We were roughhousing,” Nellie lied.

“Well, come say goodbye to Mr. Baig before you wash up,” Nathalie said. “We’ll go out for lunch.”

“He can’t leave,” Nellie said. “He promised we’d talk!”

“And so we shall, my lamb,” Amias said, coming to the door. He smiled down at her. “I was informed you’re on break from school. Your aunt has agreed we can meet for lunch tomorrow.” His eyes darted to Nathalie. “So long as she chaperones.”

“Okay… as long as we can talk,” Nellie said. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow… um… Mr. Baig.”

He regarded her with amusement, but did not urge her to call him anything else. He gave a nod to Nathalie–recieving one in return–and walked off the steps. He looked odd in his fine suit walking up the driveway. He followed the curve through the woods, walking out of sight.

“Sorry he kept calling you my…,” Nellie trailed away, looking down at her soiled shoes.

Nathalie clasped her arm around Nellie’s muddy and cobwebbed shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “Come get washed up.”

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

I just put Nellie's birthday as March 15th so it was right in the middle of the month. Which is what I did with Rook, so they have the same birthday, I guess, lol.

Spring Break for what would be Nellie's school zone started April 1st in 2024. I wanted so badly to put in an April Fool reference, but Amias wouldn't know/celebrate/acknowledge that day, neither would Nathalie, and neither would Nellie both because she was raised by Nathalie and because the kids now don't seem to participate after age 8.

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P.Track.17

Nellie’s eye shot open in time with the feeling that she just fell back into her body. She stared at her black ceiling, tensing at the harsh buzzing rattled from her nightstand. She blinked, her head fuzzy with whatever dream she had been having slipping away. She answered her phone.

“Hello,” she mumbled, sinking back onto her pillow.

Oh, good, you’re awake,’ came Morgan’s voice.

She internally admonished herself for forgetting to silence her phone. She squinted through her bright screen seeing it was just after 4AM.

I heard my father is planning a visit,’ Morgan said.

“Visit?” Nellie yawned. “What visit?”

Are you really awake,’ Morgan asked, annoyed.

“No,” Nellie said.

My father,’ Morgan said slowly and with annoyance, ‘the Regere, is planning a visit to you in Tennessee. It sounds like he wants to bring you here to live. Oh, I got to go! My mother is coming!

The line went dead.

---

There was no way to confirm what Morgan said. He had been grounded for running off to America, and whenever Nellie texted or called, his mother would answer to remind her that he had another month on his sentence. Evora would ask a follow up, typically how school was or how she was doing, but never continued the conversation beyond that no matter how badly Nellie sensed she wanted to.

The first week after Spring Break dragged by in a bundle of nerves. Nellie jumped at everything, expecting her uncle to suddenly appear. It was unhelpful that she had no idea what he looked like, and kept picturing Grandfather Agarwal with blazing red eyes.

By the second week after Spring Break, Nellie’s nerves calmed. She had been mostly asleep during Morgan’s call. She could have misheard. She would have thought she dreamed the whole thing if it was not for the call log on her phone.

Good morning, students,’ Ms. Pelham’s voice came over the loud speaker. ‘We have a special guest this week. Mr. Javernick is here from the state to conduct an assessment. He’ll meet with every single one of you to ask about your time at school. Please, speak honestly and let him know how much you enjoy your time here. First homeroom up will be Mr. Hardin’s.

Emma and Sophia leaned into each other up ahead to whisper about this development. Nellie hurried over as soon as the bell rang to join in.

“Has this happened before,” Nellie asked.

“Not since we started,” Sophia said. “It does happen. It’s, like, an audit or something for real.”

“OMG, if we listen to the principal and talk this place up, then we might get a pizza party or something,” Emma said happily. “And, like, real pizza. Not school pizza.”

They split off to their classes. Nellie perked up as the next homeroom was called, watching her class lose five students to the call. Two entered, muttering to each other. They were smiling and appeared at ease.

She waited all day for her homeroom to be called, but it never came. Olivia had her homeroom called at the end of the day, but being near the end in the alphabet, she was not able to fill them in until their morning locker gathering.

“He’s so nice,” Olivia said, tossing her curls off her shoulder. “Like your favorite, old uncle. I was so nervous, but that went away so fast!”

“What’d he ask about,” Ava asked.

“Nothing important,” Olivia said, shrugging. “Asked if I liked my teachers. Wanted to know if I thought classes were boring or not.”

“I wonder what he’s looking for,” Nellie mused.

“Um, I just told you,” Olivia said, rolling her eyes.

Nellie clenched her jaw and did not respond. Olivia could be right; this could simply be an audit of the school, but it was not sitting right with her. She tuned out the rest of Olivia’s dramatic retelling of her boring fifteen minute interview, pulling out her phone to silence it. She found a message from Ira.

I’m so sorry I went quiet. Penny told me you met.

That was all. After weeks of silence.

The bell for homeroom sounded. Nellie trailed after Sophia and Emma with her thumbs hovering over her keyboard. She was forced to pocket it without answering as Miss Campbell shot her a glare.

Her homeroom still had not been called by lunch. She took her usual seat and looked around for the others, spotting Emma and Olivia instantly.

“We still haven’t been called,” Nellie said offhandedly.

“OMG, Perenelle, don’t worry so much,” Emma said. “Olivia said he was nice.” She looked at Olivia for her validation. “Right?”

“Right,” Olivia said.

Sophia joined them with a heavy sigh. “We still haven’t been called yet,” she lamented.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Olivia said sympathetically. “He really is nice. I’m sure your class is next.”

“Yeah,” Emma chirped. “It’ll be over with before you know it.”

Nellie turned so they would not catch her rolling her eyes. She looked around for Ava, frowning.

“Hey,” came Mason’s voice from behind her. He stood at the other end of the table with his tray. His casual expression began to turn uncomfortable as the girls whispered and snickered and prodded each other.

Nellie gave the three of them a few seconds, and then answered, “Hi.” It was a mistake. She felt the daggers on her back.

“Our homeroom was called right before lunch,” Mason said, focusing on Nellie. “Ava went in right before the bell.”

“Oh, cool, thanks,” Nellie said.

“Emma was supposed to talk to him,” Olivia said bluntly the moment Mason walked off. She glared. “Oh, you like him, don’t you? That’s so low, Perenelle, I swear.”

She opened her mouth to protest but failed under the hurt gaze of Emma. Olivia looked mildly smug while Sophia shook her head disapprovingly. Nellie mumbled she was trying to be polite and supported Emma’s endeavors, and picked at her food.

Ava dropped into her seat ten minutes later. She shoveled half her tray into her mouth to make up for the lost time.

“It’s so unfair you missed some of lunch,” Sophia said.

“He wants to meet my family,” Ava said. She drained her milk. “No one else in my homeroom has to have a home visit.” Her mouth twisted. “I can’t think what I said wrong….”

This new revelation hung over the rest of lunch. Nellie could not stop her nerves from twisting her stomach. Emma and Sophia went from being fair-skinned to downright pale.

Nellie took her seat next to Ava in art. She waited for their teacher to pass on her turn around the room. She leaned nearer to the table, pretending to focus on some details.

“Psst, Ava,” Nellie hissed. “Were the questions different?” Ava shook her head. “Did your parents come up?” Ava shook her head again.

The intercom crackled. ‘Miss Campbell’s homeroom, please make your way to the principal’s office,’ Ms. Pelham instructed.

Her legs were lead as she dragged herself from the room and down the hall. Emma and Sophia were already waiting. She held back from joining them.

“Perenelle Herle,” the receptionist called.

One of the boys pretended to barf as she passed by.

The interview was taking place in the lounge. The old, white fridge made a sick rattling. The smell of burnt coffee permeated the area. One of the fluorescents above hummed and subtly flickered.

A short, stout man sat in the only overstuffed chair available. He had crow’s feet around his twinkling blue eyes that deepened as he gave Nellie an easy, welcoming smile. His tan hair was heavily streaked with gray, but it was difficult to say exactly how old he was. Nellie guessed he was at least in his fifties.

“Hello, Perenelle,” he said, his voice raspy and deep. He gestured to the worn loveseat. “Says in your folder that you started here recently. January?”

“Yeah,” Nellie said, sitting on the very edge of the loveseat with her fingers tucked under her thighs. “I lived in Florida before now.”

“Ah, the Sunshine State.” He leaned back in his chair. “Are you nervous, Perenelle?”

“A little.”

He smiled warmly and set his notepad aside. “Do you go by Perenelle, or are you more comfortable with something else?” He laughed lightly at her shrug. “My name is Silas. You can call me that or Mr. Javernick. Whichever is more comfortable for you.”

“My friend told me you were visiting her house,” Nellie said. “Why her?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say, but it isn’t anything worrying,” Silas said. “She’s not in trouble.”

Nellie nodded, feeling a wave of relief. She would have to text Ava later.

The next five minutes was a back and forth on how Nellie liked the school—she did not—and how she found her classes—slow and boring.

“Hmm,” Silas hummed, looking at his notes. “Sounds like you aren't being efficiently challenged.” He tapped his pen against his notepad, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Let’s change topics a minute… Says in your folder you’re a single parent home.”

“Surely I’m not the only kid you’ve met with just one parent,” Nellie said. She went on edge. Silas was visibly uneasy, keeping his focus on his notes.

He took a deep breath and set his notes off to the side. “Your uncle sent me.”

She shot to her feet.

“Perenelle, please, sit,” Silas urged.

“The Regere sent you to spy on me,” Nellie snapped.

“I volunteered,” Silas said. “Penny told me about meeting you.”

“Penny works with the Auctorita! But-but… she didn’t know Morgan. She was so… flippant about the Regere.” She backed towards the door. “It was a trick. Why?”

“Penny doesn’t work for the Auctorita,” Silas said. “I’d like her to, but she won’t. Perenelle, please, calm down. Our time is nearly over. Let me say my piece.”

Nellie glanced to the door. It would be simple to sprint out, screaming. Screaming what, she had no idea. It could just land her in detention. She eased back to the loveseat, sitting on the edge as before.

“Your father and I were acquaintances a decade before he met your mother,” Silas said. “I recommended him as Commander when the Auctorita was formed. That’s why I offered to meet you in your uncle’s stead.”

“I was told he ran off and doesn’t want the Regere near me,” Nellie said.

“Rhys blamed the Regere–.”

“For my mother turning into a dragon,” Nellie finished. “Got it.” She propped her foot up on her knee. “And, what?”

Silas chuckled, shaking his head. “Our time is up,” he said. “I’m going to schedule a home visit, which I’m sure you saw coming. It’s high time I spoke with Nathalie.”

---

Ash bounced after a pair of robins with no intent of catching them. The sun was too low to light the clearing where the house sat. Nellie had been sitting on the steps since telling Nathalie about her meeting with Silas Javernick, staying out of the way as Nathalie rushed to clean the living room and kitchen. She stayed outside even after Silas arrived, straining to listen through the doors but also not wanting to hear anything.

Nellie hugged her knees. She could not imagine what they were talking about for this long. Silas would make a plea for the Regere to see her, Nathalie would shut it down, and that was that.

Ash jumped, poofed, and rematerialized on top of Silas’s boxy car.

“Ash, no,” Nellie said, trying not to laugh. “You’ll scratch it.”

She leapt up as the front door opened behind her. Nathalie frowned at Ash.

“Mr. Javernick wants to speak to both of us now,” Nathalie said. She pointed at Ash. “Beast, get off that car!”

“Ash, down,” Nellie urged.

The smoke wolf stared at them for a long pause. He jumped off more with the air of being bored than obeying.

Silas smiled warmly at her as she shuffled into the house. He moved an inch to give Nathalie extra room as she sat on the couch. They both stared at Nellie. She squirmed.

“Mr. Javernick has informed me that he works for your uncle,” Nathalie said stiffly. “And, that he’s friends with my brother.”

“Friend is a bit strong,” Silas said.

“We talked about this already,” Nellie said warily.

“May I,” Silas asked. He shimmied forward on the couch at Nathalie’s nod. “Nathalie confirmed for me what your uncle, what all of us, suspected; creatures–crypitds–are drawn to you. You sense magic, as Amias related.”

“Which are also things I already know,” Nellie said carefully. “Is something wrong?”

“Nellie,” Nathalie said, a pained expression etched on her face, “you found a dragon. That’s unusual and dangerous even for people like Mr. Baig and Mr. Javernick.” She took on a grayish tint. “Mr. Javernick says that this uncle of yours wants you to stay with him over the summer. Learn how to protect yourself.”

It took a moment for her to wrap her head around what Nathalie was telling her. She crossed her arms tightly, stepping back.

“You’re sending me to him,” Nellie said. “After months of ‘he’s dangerous’ and ‘keep away’.”

“You won’t be with the Regere, per se,” Silas said. He grinned in a way that reminded Nellie of Santa Claus. “I’ve been given the role of babysitter. You’ll be at my compound with Penny and a few other youngsters. I know Master Morgan is begging Evora to come.”

“You’re okay sending me off somewhere for months with some… guy,” Nellie asked, glaring at Nathalie.

“Of course not, Perenelle, but something must be done,” Natahlie said. “That uncle of yours does have a point; finding dragons and other creatures is dangerous. What would’ve happened had Mr. Baig not been there?”

“Or Penny,” Silas added. “Hard to say if she’s downplaying or Amias is exaggerating….”

“Amias and Penny didn’t know each other,” Nellie said, feeling irritated.

“They didn’t until then, and still don’t talk,” Silas said. He looked guiltily at his knitted fingers. “Penny’s mother was a great friend of mine.” He glanced up. “And of your father’s.”

“Penny knew my father?”

“No…” Silas trailed off. “Only Keena did.” He cleared his throat. “Back to topic… My compound is where Penny trained. Prince Ira has spent time there too.”

She knew that name. She could not think how she knew it, but there was something too familiar about it despite the name being unusual. She hurried to her room, grabbed her box of Rhys’s letters, and sat in front of the coffee table facing them.

“Fox?” She shuffled through more of her father’s early letters. “Is that Keena? I swear, I read the name somewhere… I keep seeing mentions of Fox though...”

“Keena Fox,” Silas said. “Your dad always called her Fox. At least that I know of. I thought that was a British thing.”

“For blokes, it’s not uncommon,” Nathalie said. “Rhys defaulted to it. Kept him friendly while keeping up those walls he had.”

Nellie grabbed random words and phrases and she went through the letters. It was more to stop from looking at Nathalie and Silas at this point. She was unsure if she wanted to spend her summer at some compound, but could not deny it was exciting.

That dragon was dangerous. That was undeniable. She shuttered as she remembered how it stared at her, remembered the rank smell of its breath. It would be a smart move to learn how to effectively get away from such a creature, as Penny had.

She gulped, sitting straighter as it dawned on her; she was going to try again. She would go searching for dragons again.

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

I was greeted with the news that my nieces don't have school today, so I guess that's it for a comment.

Read full Article
December 14, 2025
P.Track.16

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.

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December 10, 2025
P.Track.15

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.

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