She slides a bag across the table, and the hooded figure opposite her peers inside.

“Where the hell did you find this?!”

“On the side of the road.”

Alaire scoffs, carefully easing out a scaly, four-legged creature from the bag while staring at it with open fascination. A dragon child with scales like broken shards of the black night slumbers peacefully, its tail curled and belly softly undulating. Alaire sighs, gliding his fingertips over the beast’s back. Only the bravest and strongest hunters can find and capture one; adult dragons are extremely protective of their young.

June crosses her arms and leans back on the sofa. “What are you planning to do with him? Sell him to the highest bidder?”

“Perhaps.” He says, absentmindedly rubbing the red cut on his finger. “If anyone’s willing to take the risk of keeping one as a pet. Or otherwise…” He smiles. “Did you know that each scale of a dragon can cost around a hundred gold bars?”

June raises her eyebrows, trying to keep a passive face. “Really? I expect a handsome reward, then.”

Truth be told, June had gotten exceptionally lucky. While walking through a squalid alleyway three blocks from her house, a bundle of dirty, moving clothes had caught her eye. Thinking some unfortunate mother had doomed her child to certain death, she had gone to check. After the initial shock of unveiling the dragon, the weight of her discovery had quickly dawned on her. Gold was about to rain from the sky.

The dragon had been sick, emaciated, and barely conscious for a week. Reluctantly using the meager income she’d earned as a cook, she had bought slabs of meat from the butcher and fed him by hand, three times a day, until the smell of flesh and blood had seeped into every crevice of her room. When she was too busy to look after him, he’d puff out hot flames, growling and snarling. Her hands still bore the scars from his many tantrums. As more days passed, her money dwindled with no sign of his recovery. Her health took a turn for the worse, and she barely had enough money to put food on the table for herself. But she didn’t mind spending it on him. She believed the poverty wouldn’t last long.

One day, while feeding him and half-lost in thought—considering finally ridding herself of him—her eyes suddenly met his amber ones. She gasped, covering her mouth as she backed away. The plate tumbled to the floor, splitting apart, chunks of red meat scattering. His black slit pupils never strayed from her face. A few minutes of silence passed between them. One curious dragon, one frightened human. The dragon looked away first, yawning and stretching his legs lazily. June watched with wide eyes as he stumbled onto his shaky legs. Then, tilting his wet, amber eyes at her, he flapped his wings and took flight—straight into her arms.

“How about five thousand gold bars?” Alaire says.

June’s eyes glaze over. Enough to last her children’s grandchildren’s children a lifetime. She looks down at the dragon. She had started calling him Mir one evening.

“Mir! Get down from the cabinet!”

“No! Please don’t melt the window. Jase is going to go mad.”

“Hide here, okay? You’re not supposed to fly around while he’s here.”

She had searched extensively for a buyer, but to no avail. So Mir stayed. For six months. He grew bigger and more temperamental. There wasn’t a spot in the room that hadn’t been burned to a crisp. June often got exasperated with him, but when he curled into her arms at night, her heart softened. She hugged him closer.

On her way to buy bread one afternoon, a children’s storybook caught her eye. Remembering Mir’s intelligent gaze and, recalling how he seemed to understand her, she bought it on impulse. Hesitantly, she placed the book in front of him. He tilted his head. She chuckled and demonstrated how to open it, before pushing it towards him. He struggled to turn the first page with his clumsy paws for a while when he couldn’t stand it anymore and gave up, huffing in frustration and tearing the pages apart. She laughed.

Jase, her landlord, would drop by for regular checks. Noticing the dents and charred wood, he’d launch into tirades about how ungrateful she was despite the facts that he’d taken her in after her parents died and lowered the rent out of pity. Mir wasn’t exactly obedient, not that she expected a dragon to be. They were born in enormous caves; their home was the land and the sky. She often found him pacing the cramped room, thumping his tail against the floor, and felt guilty. Just a little.

One evening, she returned from work to find the room empty. The window was open. Her heart sank. Skipping work, she searched the town from morning to night for three days but found no sign of him. Days turned into weeks. No sightings. No word of a dragon child.

The days blurred into one. Wake up. Work. Buy food. Sleep. There would be no sound of feet thumping around. No amber eyes watching her cook. No one to scold, no one to talk to, and no warm weight sleeping beside her at night. Just silence.

It was for the better, she had told herself bitterly.

After losing her job as a cook, she was desperate. Jase threatened to evict her. Finding new work was nearly impossible. Out of options, she became a mercenary, transporting goods and messages around town for just enough money to survive.

June lay sprawled on her bed, eyes bloodshot. If she ever saw the dragon again, she wouldn’t hesitate again.

The window shuffled open. She sat up instantly. Amber eyes met hers. Her mouth went dry. Steeling her heart, she reached out.

“You hungry?”

A shriek jolts her back to the present. In a flash, the dragon has Alaire’s hand between his teeth, blood dripping down his snout. Alaire groans and struggles. He thrashes, slamming his fist against the dragon’s head only to have the beast’s scales tear gashes into his knuckles. The dragon growls.

“Mir!”

At her shout, Mir loosens his grip, but Alaire pulls a dagger from his cloak and lunges.

“No!” June blocks his arm and tackles him to the ground. Alaire shouts for his guards, but she muffles his mouth before he can finish. She wrestles the dagger from his hand and drives it into his chest in one swift motion. He screams and writhes on the floor.

June staggers to her feet, panting. Mir jumps on her back and nuzzles against her neck. She leans in and smiles. The ringing in her ears dulls. Her heart beats with renewed strength.

The carved doors swing open. Five guards rush in, swords raised. June exhales and meets Mir’s eyes— like flickering candles in the dark. He gazes back at her, then leaps high.

A blazing torrent of shimmering, azure fire engulfs the entrance.