《A Dragon Named Balto》


 Chapter 1

    I


    The dragon smiled.


    Balto, no longer than ten feet from tail-tip to nose, swooped through the air, nearly nosediving straight into the wheat field below, before pulling his wings back and soaring back into the sky just as quickly as he had descended. As he swooped over, the young dragon ran his clawed fingers lazily through the crops, enjoying the ticklish feeling they gave his paw.


    Working his wings a little harder, the young drake propelled forward, thoroughly enjoying how the cool, morning air flowed over his wings and each of his exposed scales. The young dragon searched his mind for a word to describe how he was flying. He felt content in that moment, like he could simply glide forever.


    I wonder how high I could go?


    There was a pinch at his side from the straps and buckles of his carrying harness that brought the poor creature back to reality. Using one of his hind claws, he reached up and pulled the chafing material at his side, relieving it somewhat. He needed to make a proper adjustment, he knew, but it would have to wait until his route was finished and he was home again.


    Not far ahead of him, on the road leading to Carville, Balto spotted a familiar red truck with a man and his son looking under the hood. Careful of the electrical lines running parallel to the road, Balto circled just above them and called out a kind greeting and good morning.


    ¡°Good mornin¡¯, Balto!¡± Junior called back, waving his whole body with his wave.


    ¡°Mornin¡¯,¡± Mr. Bunsen replied, shielding his eyes from the early morning glare.


    Balto looked into the bed of the truck and spotted their small haul of vegetables and, by the smell of it, butchered meats. The scent of it wafting upwards into his nostrils gave the dragon a rumbling stomach that distracted him for a second.


    He had skipped breakfast to start his route on time. It wasn¡¯t the first time he had slept in too late, not even the first time that week, but he was working on it. He was saving up his occasional penny-tips for one of the fancy clocks that his brother Harry had in his room that made noise when you wanted.


    I want a blue one just like Harry''s.


    Except this one would be Balto¡¯s.


    Shaking his head and recovering a steadily declining altitude, Balto asked, ¡°Is there something I can do for you?¡±


    Mr. Bunsen nodded. ¡°Can ya tell tha missus that the truck broke down? Won¡¯t be long to fix, just don¡¯t want her worryin¡¯.¡± He mumbled something under his breath about spark plugs.


    ¡°Aye aye!¡± Balto cried, saluting playfully before flitting off towards Carville.


    Truck broke down. Didn¡¯t want you to worry. Truck broke down¡­


    +++


    Carville¡¯s flight balcony occupied an entire acre of land at the edge of town. The structure was shaped like a large wooden triangle, the sides of which had been muraled by passing artists and graffiti enthusiasts. The town¡¯s nearby powerlines took sharp turns around the block of land, giving Balto easy coming and going from the village. He still eyed the hanging wires nervously, though, like they might--through a series of events only possible in his young mind--fall onto him or attack him with their electrical tendrils.


    He always shuddered at those thoughts.


    Balto landed on the flight balcony landing platform with a heavy thump and made his way down the oversized staircase that made up the majority of the flight balcony¡¯s shape. It was always slow going and Balto never quite got the hang of going down stairs. The angle of his body and head when going down was disorienting and sometimes it felt like he might simply tip forward and stumble the rest of the way down.


    He felt like the building was built for older, bigger dragons.


    Stumbling dizzily from the end of the stairs, Balto took a dizzied moment to grab a stack of letters from the pouch pressing against his left ribs. He cycled through them quickly to ensure their correct order for his route, and slipped them back into his pouch before heading into town.


    Toothy smiles and happy waves from porch lounging humans and their playing children gave Balto a swell of happiness in his chest. He waved back with his tail each time, smiling the whole time.


    He was careful not to show any teeth, though. He knew that it scared some people or their dogs. Dogs especially didn¡¯t like it when he smiled.


    Stopping at his first house, a beige thing with far too many windows, he was greeted by Mrs. Bunsen, who patted him on the head before giving him a cookie shaped like a bone. He swallowed the tart treat down quickly, and placed a set of three envelopes into the woman¡¯s hand.


    ¡°Thank you, handsome boy,¡± she told him as she rubbed his cheek and behind his ear. He leaned into the touch, purring at it. It had been a long time since someone rubbed his head.


    Suddenly the dragon jerked out of his purring trance, startling the woman slightly, and said, ¡°Mr. Bunsen is on his way. He said that his truck broke down and didn¡¯t want you to worry.¡±


    Mrs. Bunsen rolled her eyes and said, ¡°Tut tut. I told that man to get it looked at yesterday, but he thought I was hearing things. I bet it was those damned spark plugs he pulled outta Jim Herrington¡¯s truck the other week. I knew they would be bad.¡±


    ¡°How did you know?¡±


    She blinked at the dragon repeatedly. Balto recognized confusion but wasn''t sure how she could be confused by his question.


    ¡°Well...you know¡­¡± She simply shrugged. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand. Go on along and get back to work.¡±


    He frowned at Mrs. Bunsen as she turned on her heel and trotted back towards her front door.


    How did she know though?


    The young drake made his way deeper into the village, delivering letters to Mr. Henderson, Ms. Jackson, Mr. and Mrs. Herrington, all of whom thanked Balto for his service and sent him on his way with a chest bubbly with pride.


    The Herringtons, however, seemed quite lovely and didn¡¯t give off any sign that their spark plugs would be bad. They were new to Carville, so maybe Mrs. Henson just didn''t know them very well.


    Balto had no idea what a spark plug even was.


    Balto gobbled up another cookie from Mrs. Herrington, this one shaped like a square and smelled like canned meat, and hurried back in a trot of his own across the village to the flight balcony. The young dragon made giant strides upwards towards the platform, finally launching himself over the edge with unfurled wings and a steady incline.


    He pointed himself east for Newman.


    +++


    From the backyard of his home, digging a new hole for additions to his garden, a man glared up at Balto as the drake¡¯s shadow passed over him. He sneered momentarily and continued digging.


    He didn¡¯t notice that Balto had waved at him, hoping for a wave back and smiling as he did, and Balto hadn''t noticed the disgust in the man''s expression.


    He probably didn''t see.


    Newman didn¡¯t have a proper flight balcony like Carville. There had been one before, from what Balto¡¯s older sister Susie had told him, but the residents of Newman had it torn down a few years before the dragon had started his daily routes. When Balto had asked why, his sister hadn¡¯t had an answer at the time. All she said was, ¡°You¡¯ll understand when you¡¯re older.¡±


    Well, he was older now, but no one would explain why he had to land on the rough gravel road running parallel to Newman, or when he needed to depart he had to climb to the top of a tree or ask for permission to use someone¡¯s roof, which was more often than naught laughed at entirely.


    Balto decided after a while to only use the tree he found at the edge of town. It wasn¡¯t very tall, but at least it gave him safe access to the sky and a little starting altitude.


    It seemed simply much more convenient for everyone if they just built a flight balcony for him. It¡¯d be much easier for him to deliver their mail and his paws wouldn''t ache so much after landing.


    Also it''d be a nice place to rest. I''m getting kinda tired...


    Balto danced for a moment on the road before leaping into the dewy grass nearby, soothing the pain in his paws. He spent a few moments inspecting his paws for stabbing pebbles or stuck rocks. He massaged the painful bruises he had accumulated from his recent routes, wincing at the most tender spots. Satisfied with the safety of his feet from the treacherous gravel road, the young dragon hopped towards town.


    It wasn¡¯t a far trek to the town¡¯s post office from the outside of town, maybe fifteen minutes, but the town of Newman made Balto anxious. He had noticed fairly early on that the people of Newman were not very excited to receive their mail. He had two pouches full of letters for them but no one ever smiled and waved at him, let alone offer little cookies like Mrs. Herrington or Mrs. Bunsen did.


    He still put on a smile, though. It was fake, but Balto knew smiling helped put people at ease. It always helped him, at least, when people smiled back.


    Maybe they don''t like smiling at strangers. Maybe it''s rude to them...


    The Newman Post Office was a squat brick building that had only two windows on either side of the front entrance. Sloppily painted block letter told the business hours as well as a ¡°no shirt, no shoes, no service¡± warning. There was dragon-shaped silhouette with a big star on its chest on the sign, too, but Balto wasn¡¯t sure what it was supposed to mean. He remembered hearing something about stars on the news radio when he was younger, but it was boring and Balto decided to play outside instead of listen.


    Parked on the curb was a rusty car that Balto couldn¡¯t hope to name. He could name the owner of it, however, and it made the dragon rumble unhappily: Mr. Fitzgerald, an elderly man that liked to flick Balto¡¯s nose whenever the drake spoke. Balto didn¡¯t like him very much, but knew that Mr. Fitzgerald was a former marine and Father had been very explicit about respecting past and current servicemen.


    The young dragon pressed on the door hurriedly, pushing inside.


    Except he didn¡¯t go inside. The door didn''t budge, if only jiggled in place. The dragon felt his snout press harshly into the glass before he recoiled in pain. He rubbed his snout a little and jostled the glass door a few times in confusion.


    Locked? It should never be locked at this time.


    Looking through the door, Balto eyed the hands of a hanging clock just above a grouping of PO boxes. He was early by a few minutes, and knocked on the glass pane twice impatiently. Mr. Fitzgerald must have forgotten to unlock the door.


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ¡­


    Peering inside, eyeing this way and that, he couldn¡¯t see Mr. Fitzgerald at the front counter where he was normally, but squinting, the young dragon spotted the man¡¯s smooth top behind some boxes just past the counter. He knocked again and called out, a little louder this time, hoping his voice would reach the old man.


    ¡°Hey! I have your mail!¡± Balto cried after yet another long pause. He reached into both of his chest pouches and held a stack of letters in both paws; they were neatly bundled together with crisscrossing red strings. ¡°Mr. Fitzgerald? Hello?!¡±


    Balto¡¯s eyes darted to the clock again, but resigned himself to knowing he was on time.


    ¡°What?!¡±


    Balto yelped and jolted in place, dropping the stacks of letters onto the concrete pavement. He yelped again and scrambled to pick up the letters and clutch them to his chest.


    Mr. Fitzgerald had appeared in the door, almost magically, and began undoing the door''s locks.


    ¡°You¡¯re late,¡± he snapped, snatching a stack of letters from the dragon¡¯s outstretched paw.


    Balto cocked his head and told the old man, ¡°But I¡¯ve been here for a couple of minutes now. I was calling for you¡­¡±


    Just as he feared, the man snapped a finger onto his nostril, making him recoil and whine.


    Ow...why do you do that?


    ¡°You were late,¡± Mr. Fitzgerald repeated, this time angrily. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to call your¡­¡®father¡¯ about this.¡±


    Balto leapt up a few feet away from the man, but remained in his submissive, head-down, flat-eared stance. The dragon whined audibly and muttered, ¡°No, please don¡¯t! I¡¯ve been doing so good! He¡¯s going to take my stamps again!¡±


    The old man rolled his eyes and snarled, ¡°I don¡¯t have a choice, dragon¡­¡± The man¡¯s face softened greatly and he turned a sympathetic eye onto the dragon. ¡°...unless¡­¡± he added.


    Oh no...


    ¡°Unless?¡± Balto echoed. The dragon let himself smile a little.


    ¡°I need you to take something somewhere for me.¡±


    The dragon¡¯s ears flattened again and he began stumbling over his words. ¡°I...I...I can¡¯t do that. Father said it was my number one rule. Everything has to be sent through the appropriate channels¡­¡±


    Balto¡¯s mind traveled back in time and he shuddered.


    The old man rolled his eyes some more and said, ¡°You do this for me and I won¡¯t tell your ¡®father¡¯ that you were late or that you did this little favor for me. You¡¯re heading to Clifford next, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Balto nodded and flexed his paws on the concrete while his tail curled around his own back ankle.


    ¡°Good, that¡¯s where my daughter lives.¡± Retreating inside for a moment, the old man returned with a thickly stuffed envelope. Balto stared at it for a moment as the man held it out for him to take.


    ¡°I...I really...I really shouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I will call him right now,¡± the man snarled, pulling his arm back a little.


    Balto¡¯s eyes watered and his chest heaved as he reached forward, taking the envelope from the man. The dragon felt ready to collapse with terror and shame. ¡°F-fine. I-I¡¯ll do it...j-just don¡¯t tell my dad¡­please?¡±


    Balto looked at the front of the envelope and noticed a problem.


    ¡°There¡¯s...there isn¡¯t an address.¡±


    ¡°Yes, she lives on Four-One...no, two...no, it¡¯s one. Four-One-Seven Wood Street, and she needs this today. It is very important. Four-One-Seven Wood Street. Now repeat that.¡±


    ¡°Four-One-Seven Wood Street¡­¡±


    ¡°Now again.¡±


    ¡°Four¡­¡± Balto sighed. ¡°Four-One-Seven Wood Street...¡±


    ¡°Good dragon. I know you lizards have bad memories¡­¡±


    That wasn¡¯t true at all. Balto was rather proud of the times he beat Harry in Match Up.


    ¡°Actually, I have a really¡­¡± Balto explained. Almost instantly, a finger inflicted pain to his snout. It made him yelp irately.


    Stop that!


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what you have. Get going!¡±


    Stuffing the envelope into an empty chest pouch during a three legged run away from the Newman Post office, the young drake repeated the address to himself over and over again until he was panting from the run.


    Within minutes, Balto was scaling a large, claw scratched tree at the edge of town and was in the air, crying to himself and full of shame and worry.


    +++


    Balto¡¯s eyes had dried long before he reached Clifford, but his chest still ached and felt heavy from the weight of his newly acquired contraband. It felt like lying.


    With his mind still racing with possibilities and probablies, Balto landed awkwardly on the rundown remains of Clifford¡¯s flight balcony, a rickety, lean structure held together with little more than faith and lack of consistent use. The structure rumbled and groaned at the drake¡¯s harsh, fumbled landing. Balto waited a few seconds before heading down, feeling claustrophobic in the stair corridor leading to ground level.


    The young dragon was feeling every awful thing he could think of, and it still felt like the walls were getting closer. He sniffled, kept his head down, and looked at each individual stair he touched.


    Four-One-Seven Wood Street...Four-One-Seven Wood Street¡­


    ¡°Four-One-Seven Wood Street,¡± he said aloud again and again until he noticed that he was back on soft earth again, safe from the constricting maw of the flight balcony.


    He checked his final pouch and found the letters he was meant to deliver. He rifled through them a few times, losing track of his thoughts and actions a few times and having to restart.


    Father won¡¯t know. Plus...plus she really needs her mail today. She¡¯ll be so happy¡­


    Taking a deep breath, Balto forced another smile.


    Father probably won¡¯t even be mad if he found out¡­


    The young dragon remembered how much mail he had agreed to take from people to deliver on his very first route and how it had left him stranded, crying in a cornfield for a few hours. Balto''s smile became softer, realer, suddenly realizing Father had simply been worried for Balto¡¯s safety when he had enacted the rule.


    One isn¡¯t bad. No one has to know.


    Mr. and Mrs. Holman were playing with their children in their backyard when Balto arrived at their gated, chain-link fence. Instead of bothering the family to notify them, he slipped their envelope into their mailbox, lifted the little red flag on the side, and went on his merry way down the street, repeating the process whenever someone wasn¡¯t already waiting for him. The people of Clifford didn¡¯t like to sit on their porches as much as the people of Carville or Newman did, but Balto always recognized that the people of Clifford didn¡¯t have many fancy patios with wire mesh walls to keep bugs out or swings to rock back and forth in.


    Balto knew he wouldn¡¯t want to sit somewhere that he would be bit by mosquitoes or bothered by gnats, so he understood why they weren¡¯t waiting for him very often like other places did.


    At Mr. Spooner¡¯s home, the aging, liver spotted man came out of his lovely two-story home, limping on his cane with a smile on his face. He accepted a duo of envelopes before frowning at one of them.


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes¡­¡± He grimaced before walking back inside. ¡°Thank you, Bradley.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± the dragon started, but fell short as the man closed his front door. The dragon¡¯s ears flattened as he said his name out loud quietly.


    He touched his chest pouch again and said to himself, ¡°Four-One-Seven Wood Street.¡± He was only a block away, so he hurried there, stopping just long enough to be startled, and to startle, a young woman walking her dog, which started barking at him angrily. The woman shooed Balto away after regaining her composure.


    Apologizing profusely for scaring them, the dragon continued his rush, a little slower now, to Mr. Fitzgerald¡¯s daughter¡¯s home. He knew better than to run in town. Running always scared people.


    Arriving at Four-One-Seven Wood Street, Balto looked up and down the street in confusion. There were only a handful of houses on the street, but most of them looked abandoned, unlived in, and unsafe to live in at that. He noticed on the house directly across from Four-One-Seven the roof had collapsed from where a fire had been.


    Cocking his head anxiously back to his destination, he eyed the windows and porch. There was a garden of dead or dying flowers on either side of the porch steps and a black mailbox to match it. The paint was peeling off the exterior and the concrete foundation had a large crack in it. A window shutter banged loudly and rhythmically and made the dragon flinch slightly each time, waves of fear forming from deep in him.


    The shutter slammed loudly again and again...


    Eyeing the front door for a few minutes, Balto thought he saw the curtain move in his periphery, but he couldn¡¯t be sure once he snapped his eyes at it. A breeze blew lightly over his head, but it was cold and unwelcoming even though it was nice and warm outside.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ...and again...


    ¡°Ms. Fitzgerald?¡± Balto called out, lifting the gate latch and slipping into the property. ¡°I have something for you! It¡¯s from your dad!¡± The dragon rummaged through his pouches, forgetting which one he had kept the envelope in. He held it up in full view of the windows. ¡°I...I¡¯ll put it in your mailbox.¡±


    ...and again...


    Sliding the envelope in, Balto stared hopefully at the windows and front door.


    ...and¡­


    The shutter had stopped.


    And it made Balto tense and tremble in place. He had been counting the shutter slams.


    His mind raced to scary stories Harry had told him when he was little.


    He remembered one about a woman eating young drakes for getting close to her home.


    He remembered that the story ended with someone finding their bones in her backyard.


    Balto stared at the corner of the house as he started backing away. He jolted in place when his tail brushed against the fence blocking his way out.


    ...the shutter returned with its friends.


    Bang! Bang! Bang!


    The front door cracked open.


    The dragon, letting out a frightened yelp, scrambled through the gate and took massive leaps and bounds in his panic, nearly flying down the road at random just to escape the monster behind him.


    He felt something tickle the tip of his tail. The wind and his blood roared in his ear, but that didn''t muffle the roar of whatever was behind him.


    When he was a safe distance away, he cowered behind a tree in someone¡¯s front yard. It was hardly thick enough to conceal him, but still he let himself relax when he found that nothing had followed him; nothing came close to nipping off the tip of his tail or to putting his bones in their backyard.


    Balto felt a fresh, cool breeze sending refreshing shudders down his back and through his wings. He touched his tail to a side pouch instinctively, feeling for the remaining few letters left, and looked towards Baker Street not far from his hiding spot.


    A screen door behind him shrieked to life and slammed shut, sounding like shutters.


    ¡°Get off my lawn, you stupid animal!¡±


    Balto didn¡¯t look back at the approaching voice. Instead, he leapt forward, scraping up some dirt, and ran towards his usual route.


    +++


    Balto slipped envelope after envelope into people¡¯s mailboxes: some on posts at the edge of their property, some hung from porch railings. He came to his last envelope and house. It was a small home, smaller than all the others. It had no upper floor, but the front lawn was huge with small patches of flowers scattered seemingly at random. It was simply brimming with colors, almost an intoxicating amount of them.


    The house had been painted a soft blue color, almost like Balto¡¯s scales, and the patio (which was little more than a large rectangle of concrete) had the usual outside chair and table like other houses but looked distinctly handmade and unique. There was a fence and a garage, of course, but they were generic, pragmatic, and had a little notice at the end letting the world know who had built it.


    In his curiosity, Balto always wanted to meet whoever lived there, but had never actually delivered anything to the house before.


    Until now...


    He looked at the name addressed on the envelope and read it aloud: ¡°L. Watson¡­¡±


    There wasn¡¯t a mailbox that he could see, but on the front door, there was a metal slot that Balto had seen only at home or on post office boxes.


    The dragon stepped through the gate and followed the flagstone pathway to the porch, clutching the envelope to his chest and making the walk on three legs. He looked around slowly as he made his way up to the stranger¡¯s front door.


    Something was different though.


    The sun shined differently there. It felt brighter, but in a softer...kinder way, and was warmer, but not uncomfortably so...like it was perfect to bask in¡­


    I haven¡¯t basked in...in a long time...


    Balto took a moment to inspect some of the random assortment of flowers sprouting near the walkway, sniffing them curiously and sneezing when the pollen irritated his nose a little too much. He was smiling and laughing at himself when the front door opened, and a man came out onto his porch.


    ¡°May I help you?¡± he asked.


    Balto jerked sideways away from Mr. Watson, lowered himself into a submissive form, and held out the envelope for the man to see. The man watched curiously.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± Balto mumbled. ¡°I...I got distracted¡­¡±


    After a moment of looking down, the man waved his hand and shook his head. ¡°Forget about it. Come here.¡±


    Balto obeyed the request, rushing over to the porch and presenting the envelope to the man like it was a precious gem. The man took it and immediately tossed it to the table, which Balto now saw was topped with something like a mural but burned into the wooden top.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± the man asked, taking a seat in the solitary chair on the porch.


    ¡°Uhm...Balto, sir.¡±


    ¡°Balto?¡± The man smirked. ¡°I¡¯m assuming after the dog¡­¡±


    ¡°Dog?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the sled dog up in Alaska.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about a dog, but I¡¯m named after Balto the Serum-driver.¡± Balto¡¯s eyes lit up as he spoke. ¡°He took a huge, really big shipment of medicine from anchorage to this little place in Nome all by himself.¡±


    Smiling at the young dragon, the man exclaimed, ¡°I didn¡¯t know that. Surely there¡¯s more to that story.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t know!


    Balto nodded rapidly, hopping forward and planting himself before the table.


    ¡°He was told that due to a giant snowstorm coming in, they had no one that was willing to take the medicine. Everyone was awfully scared of getting frozen out there¡­¡±


    ¡°Except for Balto?¡± Mr. Watson finished.


    ¡°Yes! He knew he couldn¡¯t make the whole trip himself, though, so he coordinated with another dragon who would meet him halfway and he set out into the blizzard, covered in the thickest pelts and coats they could make for him.¡± The dragon propped himself up on the table with his front paws, and despite his excitement, he was careful not to scratch the pretty-looking table. ¡°Through endless ice and wind and many close calls like being blown into a ice cavern and climbing out with only his claws and being chased by a pack of bears, Balto made it to the hand-off point but¡­¡±


    ¡°But?¡±


    ¡°But the other dragon wasn¡¯t there!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s horrible! What happened?¡± Mr. Watson¡¯s faux sincerity was lost on Balto. He was too busy telling the story of his namesake.


    ¡°The dragon--Cooper was his name--got lost in the storm and fell into ice water when he landed. No one had heard from him for days! But Balto didn¡¯t know that. He waited for exactly two days, huddled in the abandoned cave of another pack of bears, with nothing but his own fire to keep him warm after having lost all of his pelts and coats.


    ¡°He waited for two days, counting out each hour, before he knew what he needed to do. He was going to make the rest of the trip himself. He was low on supplies and the satchels were beginning to fail...the threads coming loose before his very eyes. He had to carry the load with his paws now or it might have fallen in the blistering wind!


    ¡°He made his way, starving and freezing, the rest of the way to Nome where they found him just outside of town, nearly dead. After delivering the medicine to those that needed it, Balto was nursed back to health and given a hero''s welcome when he returned home the following spring. He did lose a leg though. Frostbite got it. They had to amputerate¡­¡±


    ¡°Amputate,¡± Mr. Watson corrected.


    Dummy. You knew that...


    ¡°Yeah. They had to amputate it but it was one of his hinds so he could still deliver all the mail they needed him too.¡±


    ¡°That was a fascinating story, Balto. You have some pretty big shoes to fill, huh?¡±


    The young drake nodded. ¡°My dad told me that story and even showed me headlines about it that he found in one of his old books. It was a long time ago, a long time before I was even an egg.¡±


    Mr. Watson smiled at the dragon¡¯s whimsical mood.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen you before,¡± Balto stated. ¡°Did you just move here? This place has always been really pretty though.¡±


    ¡°No, no, I¡¯ve lived here for quite a while now. I just prefer to come out later in the day, probably after you¡¯re gone. Oh, I¡¯m being rude,¡± Mr. Watson stated, and before Balto could reject the notion for him, he added, ¡°My name is Lee Watson.¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you, Mr. Watson.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s alright if you just call me Lee. I haven¡¯t been ¡®Mr. Watson¡¯ in about half a decade or so.¡±


    Cocking his head curiously, Balto chirped for an answer to his unspoken question.


    ¡°I used to be a teacher,¡± he answered. ¡°An English teacher, specifically, and when I retired, I stopped having people call me Mr. Watson. Additionally, being called Lee is quite nice after twenty years of ¡®Mr., Mr., Mr.¡¯.¡±


    ¡°I like ¡®Lee¡¯. Are you named after someone?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Lee is actually fairly common where my family is from.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re not named after a famous teacher?¡±


    ¡°Not everyone is named after someone, let alone after someone they look up to like you.¡±


    Balto let the thought ruminate in his mind for a moment, but decided he liked where his name came from.


    ¡°What¡¯s teaching like?¡± he asked instead.


    Lee was caught off guard how quickly the dragon moved from subject to subject. He made a nostalgic face, looking right past Balto for a moment.


    ¡°Well...I enjoyed it, even if I wasn¡¯t as appreciated as I wanted to be¡­¡±


    ¡°Is that why you quit?¡± Balto met Lee¡¯s eyes for a few seconds, innocent curiosity shining towards the man.


    Lee swallowed, smirked, and said, ¡°No, it was something a bit more personal than that. Would you like something to drink?¡±


    Balto smacked his lips a few times, noting how dry they and his throat felt. He nodded.


    Maybe I should ask about a pillow too? I need a nap.


    The man stood up and approached his front door. ¡°Okay then. Do you like tea, or would you prefer some lemonade?¡±


    ¡°Tea?¡±


    ¡°Yes, tea.¡±


    ¡°What is that?¡±


    Lee furrowed his brow at the dragon. ¡°Tea? You¡¯ve never heard of tea before?¡±


    Balto shook his head. ¡°Well, actually, Mother has guests over for tea sometimes but I¡¯m supposed to stay in my shed when they come over. She says it for adults¡­¡±


    Lee decided against asking about Balto¡¯s ¡°shed¡±, and instead said, ¡°Well, I can assure you that anyone can have tea. It¡¯s essentially just a powder in a bag that you dip into hot water. I¡¯ll go set a pot on so we can try some together. I just bought a new box.¡±


    Balto watched intently as the man returned inside, glimpsing inside. The whole of it was dimly lit and difficult to make out any details. There was a bookshelf but that was only a blurry outline, and he couldn¡¯t make out any of the titles before the door shut again.


    The young dragon¡¯s toes flexed again and again on the concrete patio. He stared at the strange art on the table, and looked around the yard, enjoying the view of so many pretty colors and floral arrangements. The closest thing home had to something like Mr. Wat...Lee¡¯s yard were the bushes in front of the house, but those were all green and ugly.


    The door squeaked open and Lee came out with a large volume under his armpit and a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.


    ¡°Can you read, Balto?¡±


    ¡°Well, of course I can. I can¡¯t deliver mail without being able to.¡±


    ¡°No, I mean¡­¡± Lee set the book onto the table and flipped to a random page. He placed his finger on a spot in the book and asked, ¡°Can you read this for me?¡±


    Spinning it around, Balto eyed the text and grimaced: ¡°Every...one...in the...room...was now looking at him. ¡®A song¡¯ showed...no, shouted...one of the...the...I don¡¯t know what a¡­¡± He squinted again. ¡°Hubbits?¡±


    ¡°Hobbits,¡± Lee corrected, shutting the book.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± The dragon¡¯s ears flattened in dejection at the sound the book made as it snapped shut. ¡°I guess I¡¯m not very good at reading, huh?¡±


    ¡°It takes practice to be fast at it. Would you like to practice?¡±


    The drake gave another curious chirp and head cock.


    ¡°Take it home with you,¡± Lee said, gesturing to the book on the table. ¡°I¡¯m not going to read it for a while, if ever. I don¡¯t like rereading books.¡±


    Balto looked from the book to Lee again and again, eventually touching the cover with a paw, pulling it closer to himself. He shuffled in place nervously.


    ¡°I...I can¡¯t¡­¡± he finally answered, pushing it back. ¡°I¡¯m not allowed to accept gifts from people I deliver too.¡± Balto thought about the cookies and pennies he was given sometimes, but figured snacks and pennies didn¡¯t quite count.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a good thing it isn¡¯t a gift,¡± Lee replied quickly, putting his hand over Balto¡¯s paw and pushing the book towards him again. ¡°I¡¯m lending it to you to read. I¡¯m going to want it back eventually.¡±


    Balto glanced between the two again. ¡°Are you wanting me to do something for you? Like take something somewhere...¡±


    ¡°No favors. Just bring it back one day. Preferably all in one piece.¡±


    The dragon looked at the book for a moment, turning it over in his paws again and again. Balto brought the book up to his chest, and purred deeply, really smiling.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take good care of it,¡± Balto mumbled, sliding the book into one of his front pouches.


    There was a sharp continuous whistle from inside the house that startled the young drake.


    ¡°That was fast. That¡¯s the tea. Let¡¯s try some before you head out.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Lee,¡± Balto mumbled, leaving a paw on the pouch containing the book. Lee didn¡¯t bother correcting the young dragon. Instead he went inside and prepared their tea.


    +++


    Balto returned home with the taste of tea still on his mind. It was strange, but not unpleasant. He wondered the whole way home if he should have accepted Mr. Watson¡¯s offer of sugar or milk, and resigned himself to asking the next time he made it into Clifford.


    After losing track of time, thinking about tea, milk, and sugar in no particularly coherent train of thought, Balto saw the top of home peaking over the horizon, just as the sun was hitting its highest point. He could feel the heat beating down on his back and wings, and with the cool breeze of air over his wings, the warmth felt like freedom and happiness¡­


    ...while the sight of home brought worry and anxiety.


    He couldn¡¯t decide which he should feel more.


    The young drake approached the estate, flying over the brick and mortar wall enclosing the property, over the double-storied house itself, over Balto¡¯s own personal shed, and towards the dishevelled flight balcony near the back of the estate.


    Balto set down lightly, requiring a semicircle turn to land the right direction. The building, about half as tall as the one in Carville, was new but poorly constructed. He was still waiting for one of Father¡¯s friends to come finish putting it together so he wouldn¡¯t be worried about it falling apart under him.


    Touching the book through the pouch again, the dragon smiled excitedly and began a mad rush down a u-shaped staircase, tripping at the very bottom and rolling. He shook his head dizzily and resumed his sprint towards home. He slapped his paws against yards and yards of lawn, passing his shed, and jumped to a halt at the rear entrance of home.


    Balto tapped his tail on the door twice and waited.


    Within moments a large woman in an apron waddled to the door and began cursing at Balto in a different language. The dragon simply smiled and waited until Mrs. Garc¨ªa gestured for him to come in.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to knock on the door, mi peque?o diablo. You live here.¡± Balto simply nodded to her, smiling to himself. Seeing his smirk, she turned away and added under her breath, ¡°Voy a poner pasas en tu s¨¢ndwich, peque?a mierda.¡±


    Balto followed Mrs. Garc¨ªa away from the backdoor into the adjacent laundry room where she was folding clothes. ¡°Is Father home? I didn¡¯t see his car out front.¡±


    ¡°Yes, he let Harry borrow the car to go pick up a friend for the weekend.¡± The woman smiled at Balto, patted him on the head, and sent him out of the laundry room.


    Prancing down the hall running through the whole house like an artery, Balto passed the dining room, the kitchen, and downstairs bathroom before coming to the living room. He spotted Mother¡¯s red curls over the couch and leapt into her field of view excitedly, hardly able to wait to show her Mr. Watson¡¯s book, but as soon as she saw him, she held up a finger for him to be quiet, eyes fear-widened.


    Balto looked at the infant, Leslie, cradled in her arms, noticing finally that she was feeding and calmly resting as she did so. He smiled and went a little closer to inspect his new sister, but was immediately pushed back with a foot against his chest.


    Mother shook her head. ¡°When she¡¯s older, Balto, we don¡¯t want to scare her.¡±


    The drake nodded sadly but quickly remembered, ¡°Do you still think that I¡¯ll get to eat dinner with the family tonight?¡±


    Mother smiled and nodded. ¡°As long as you¡¯re home in time, I don¡¯t see why not. You¡¯ve been a good boy lately, even if you¡¯ve been a little lazy with sleeping in.¡±


    Balto smiled, chirped happily--and quietly, and went to the stairs.


    Awkwardly making his way up the steps, trying his best not to catch his claws in the carpeting as he went, he pranced down the hall, lifting each leg as high as it could go with each and every step. Reaching Father¡¯s office door and hearing the deep voice inside, Balto twisted his tail around the doorknob and pushed his way in excitedly, book retrieved from his pouch and held tightly to his chest.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t hear a knock!¡± snapped Father as he placed a mighty hand over the receiver of his office phone.


    Balto, with a yelp, stumbled backwards, pulling the door closed. He patted his tail against the door a few times before entering again¡­


    ¡°And I did not give permission to enter, dragon,¡± Father added coldly before Balto¡¯s head was even fully through the door.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± Balto murmured, once again pulling the door shut.


    It wasn¡¯t a conscious effort to listen to what Father was saying behind his door, but Balto caught a few words: ¡°Susie¡±, ¡°nurse¡±, and ¡°...brother is a good boy¡±. Balto¡¯s tail-tip wagged rapidly behind himself. The rest of the conversation was a muffled mess of noises that lasted little longer than a few minutes.


    ¡°You may enter,¡± Father called.


    Balto reentered with a smile, forepaw clutching the book to his chest. Father eyed him curiously as he approached the desk on three legs and looked confusedly at the tome when Balto set it gently on top of his paperwork.


    ¡°Mr. Watson gave it to me¡­¡±


    ¡°Balto,¡± Father started, shaking his head and putting his face into his hands. ¡°Why do you keep doing this?¡±


    The young dragon looked down at himself, looking for patches of mud that he might have brought inside.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand, sir¡­¡± he responded when he found nothing trailing behind him.


    Father picked up the book and began gesturing to the dragon with it.


    ¡°I¡¯ve told you countless times not to accept mail when on route. Everything needs to go through the appropriate channels!¡±


    Balto¡¯s ears flattened as Father rose from behind his desk, but that wasn¡¯t what made Balto cower. It was how Father¡¯s voice rose with each passing word. Balto let out a submissive whimper and tried to correct Father¡­


    ¡°No, don¡¯t speak!¡± Father snapped, making his way around, book still in hand. ¡°I just got off the phone with Fitzgerald from Newman. He says you were late! Again!¡±


    ¡°But...but I...he said¡­¡±


    All of Balto¡¯s shame and fear returned.


    ¡°And now you come in here with someone¡¯s trash to have mailed! I didn¡¯t spend a decade fighting to have you break the rules I set over and over again.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not trash¡­¡± Balto mumbled, avoid direct eye contact.


    Father stepped directly in front of the dragon and stared down at the creature. Balto was no more than four feet tall when properly standing, let alone when he was cowering as he was, and Father¡¯s terrifying eyes loomed overhead like approaching meteors. Balto felt himself start crying, little droplets of tears rolling off him and onto the carpet.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡±


    ¡°What did you say?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± he repeated.


    ¡°What did you say?!¡±


    ¡°It¡­¡±


    ¡°Sit up!¡±


    Balto threw himself upwards, sitting like a begging dog.


    ¡°Now answer me,¡± Father demanded.


    ¡°It¡¯s...it¡¯s not t...trash, s...sir,¡± Balto squeaked out, trembling, tail forming a circle around himself. ¡°Mr. Watson said that I could read it and bring it back¡­¡±


    Father rolled his eyes and waved his hand at the dragon. ¡°I¡¯m going to give this Mr. Watson a call, and I swear to baby Christ if I find out you just lied to me, your punishment for being late is going to be a whole hell of a lot worse.¡± The towering man took huge steps back to his chair, dropped the book at the half-empty bookshelf behind the desk, and sat back down.


    ¡°I¡¯m...I¡¯m sorry...I¡¯m sorry, sir.¡± Balto, still unable to make eye contact, ran both front paws over his cheeks, wiping tears away.


    ¡°Dismissed,¡± Father snapped, waving towards the door. The dragon pirouette-lunged towards the door without hesitation, not even to contemplate retrieving his book. ¡°Oh,¡± the man continued, halting Balto mid-stride through the doorway, ¡°and stop your sniveling. You¡¯re a damn dragon, so stop crying so much.¡±


    ¡°Y...yes, sir,¡± Balto replied, hurrying the rest of the way out and shutting the door quietly.


    Balto¡¯s heavy steps could be heard from the laundry room, disturbing Mrs. Garc¨ªa¡¯s attention from her radio shows and little Leslie from her nap, beckoning her to sob just like Balto did as he rushed past. Mother did not attempt to stop the poor drake, partly because she was irritated that he had woken Leslie, but instead closed her eyes and tried to make the infant rest with her again.


    Mrs. Garc¨ªa hardly had time to react to Balto darting past, a gust of wind behind him.


    She leaned out the back door and called out worriedly to the dragon, but he was sobbing too loudly and was well on his way to the safety of his shed.


    +++


    Balto fell asleep crying, napping away the few hours of rest he was given between routes. He awoke calmly, partially splayed out over the edge of his nest of old blankets and ripped up hand-me-downs, and went to work organizing the next days deliveries. Afterwards, he began slipping stacks of envelopes into his pouches.


    The dragon, ready to fly off again, stopped himself at the door, paw tightly holding the latch. He looked back towards his nest at the opposite end of the shed, eyeing the album protruding from underneath his nest, right under where his head always laid.


    Removing the album to his worktable, Balto ran a paw over the tattered cover. He remembered the day he found Mother throwing the thing out, but the dragon, much younger than he was then, demanded he be allowed to keep it for his own uses. No one bothered asking what it was; they knew about his collection.


    Balto turned the cover and smiled at his stamps, flipping through page after page until the end was abruptly cut off part way down. His collection was unfinished, but he knew it would never be. He didn¡¯t think about that though; the young drake thought about how nice the art looked, and the little stories each one of them told.


    He ran a paw over their plastic covering, shut his eyes, and felt...at ease.


    Everything¡¯s gunna be okay...


    Shutting his collection and clutching it protectively against his chest, Balto sighed to himself. Briefly looking around his shed, he spotted a spot high up, stood only on his hinds, and placed the collection in the rafters, nestled between the slanted ceiling and the wooden support beam. Eyeing it until he was certain it wouldn¡¯t be easily noticed, Balto readjusted his mail harness and pouches once more and left the comfortable safety of his shed, ready, more or less, for his next route.

 Chapter 2

    II


    He was smiling again.


    The dragon Balto allowed himself the luxury of sweeping through the air at a leisurely pace, unhindered by a strict time limit like his morning route. He allowed himself to rise ever higher into the sky and plummet downwards with his back to the ground, catching himself at a safe distance from the ground, but that didn¡¯t diminish the fun of the adrenaline rush. He laughed to himself even as he approached his destination of Humbleton.


    He soared lazily over the little town, looking down into people¡¯s backyards and catching a few looks at the residents enjoying their early mid-afternoon spring day. A couple of children pointed up at him, he could see, but he didn¡¯t worry.


    Balto didn¡¯t feel worried. He wasn¡¯t feeling anxious anymore.


    He felt free and excited and ready to drop down and provide people with their mail.


    He let out a contented little hum as he softly glided onto Humbleton¡¯s flight balcony and danced his way down the steps, only stumbling slightly once at the very last step when he thought there¡¯d be more. After staggering back upright, he shook himself back to formality and made his way into town, delivering letters to good people of Humbleton.


    Starting at Mr. and Mrs. Gerind¡¯s and continuing onto Mr. Vick¡¯s, Balto slipped their mail into their mailboxes or through the mail slots in their doors.


    At Mr. Johnson¡¯s, however, the dragon found himself running away from the porch-mounted mailbox at the sound of shrieking dogs chasing him away from their territory. Balto ran in huge strides, even leaping entirely over Mr. Johnson¡¯s fence to escape the rabid approach of the two German shepherds, but in his aerial dive, Balto¡¯s harness caught itself on the chain-link fence''s jagged top.


    Balto let out an amused chortle, finding himself twisted around and partially upside down. He pulled himself free, smoothed the harness over his scales, and checked on his pouches contents.


    ¡°Everything alright, dragon?¡± Mr. Johnson called from his front door, no doubt having seen Balto¡¯s embarrassing predicament.


    Planting his paws on the fence and looking over, Balto nodded and answered, ¡°Yeah. I didn¡¯t realize Betty and Susan were out.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± the man said slowly, scratching his fuzzy chin before heading back inside.


    Balto continued his route without much incident after, save for a few unkind words from Mr. Harris over something he called a ¡°pink slip¡± under his breath and a couple of pennies and a dime dropped into Balto¡¯s pouch by Mr. Bradley.


    As the young drake made his way back to the flight balcony, he mentally added the rare tip he had earned to the amount he had Father saving for him. He was less than two dollars away from one of the noise making clocks.


    And Balto smiled as he took off for Dursly, his last, but longest, flight of the day.


    +++


    Balto glanced down at Dursly, the scariest town on his route, with apprehension. From the sky it looked like any other little town he had delivered to, save for the angle of the sun casting longer shadows than the other towns, but as he neared the ramshackle flight balcony, which consisted mostly of rotten or old wood and rusty nails, he felt himself growing more and more scared and anxious.


    He felt the memory of a kick to his ribs from one of his first times delivering for them.


    Peering out of the flight balcony¡¯s staircase, Balto kept his eye out for Jimmy West and his brothers, Bobby and Vince. They liked to yell and threaten him and occasionally throw glass bottles at him until he went running to the post office and back¡­


    ...but the dragon didn¡¯t see any of them and let out a sigh of relief as he set out.


    Gotta make it quick.


    The dragon didn¡¯t take the trip slowly though. He made the short distance to the post office brisk, eyeing up and down streets that he crossed for the brothers. His panicked heart leapt in terror as a truck barreled through an intersection he was crossing, the driver apologizing with a hand wave, but the event sent Balto sprinting the short distance remaining, passing a semi-crowded walkway of people enjoying a local ice cream shop about to close. Balto evaded the crowd entirely, opting to go around them, but that didn¡¯t stop a few women and children from letting out startled noises as he passed in a blur.


    Finding the post office, Balto looked up and down the street before crossing and carefully sliding the tied stack of letters and envelopes into a dropbox. Balto spent longer than he intended just staring up and down the road, unnerved and panicked.


    He made his way back to the flight balcony within minutes, not spending a single second to apologize for startling the residents of Dursly. He scrambled up the steps, claws digging into the wood and gouging wounds into the planks.


    The dragon launched himself out of the balcony without much thought, feeling a plank bend significantly and making his lift-off jarring.


    He wasn¡¯t smiling anymore.


    He wasn¡¯t smiling for a long time after he left. He sobbed quietly as a forepaw felt his ribs. They still ached. He cried to himself for a while after he left, eyesight blurred with tears.


    Balto had only been in Dursly for twenty minutes, just long enough for the horizon to burn orange and pink with sunset colors, but that was simply twenty minutes too long.


    +++


    It was dark out when Balto finally returned home, following instinct and muscle memory more than true memory. As the dragon soared over the vast blackness below him, he felt the hurt and cold tightness in his chest dissipate. The dining room light was still on!


    He had made it in time for dinner!


    Balto didn¡¯t bother landing in his balcony, preferring in that instance to drop unceremoniously onto the cold, dewy lawn and hurry to the back door. He didn¡¯t bother knocking again. Pushing into the house, Balto snaked his way around corners and walls to the dining room where he heard laughter and voices and the staticky noise of the family radio set retelling the events of the week.


    ¡°I¡¯m home!¡± Balto announced as he approached the table, panting, still wearing his harness, and looking around the table. Father sat at the head with Mother and baby Leslie to his left. There was an empty seat to his right for when Susie was home while Harry, who was in the middle of slurping a bundle of noodles into his mouth, sat directly across from Father. ¡°What¡¯s for dinner?¡±


    He already knew. He could smell it the moment he opened the back door. Balto recognized the taste of boiled noodles in the air and the smell of tomato sauce anywhere.


    The dragon was giddy as could be and his stomach grumbled for him to hurry.


    Mother smiled at Balto and answered, ¡°Spaghetti, silly. Would you like some?¡±


    Father and Harry carried on with their conversation about Harry¡¯s adventure with Father¡¯s car that day. The pride in Father¡¯s voice gave Balto jealous pangs in his heart, but he set them aside. He couldn¡¯t wait to tell Father about how he outran Mr. Johnson¡¯s dogs. Father liked stories like that. Balto knew from the number of them Harry had told and Father had repeated to others over the phone or when guests were over.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The dragon nodded and went closer to the chest high table. He watched as Mother took a scoop from the bowl of noodles and scooped some onto a spare plate set at the table. The plate wasn¡¯t technically for him, rather for anyone who was visiting for the night and it was tradition that it was always set out with everyone else''s, but Balto always ended up with it anyway. It was his place at the table by default. There wasn¡¯t even a chair blocking his spot.


    He smiled excitedly as sauce was spooned on top and the plate was set in front of him. Balto chirped excitedly, reaching for the silverware nearest him. He caught Father¡¯s angered glare in his peripheral, pulled away from the table, and said, ¡°I should wash my paws first.¡±


    In the kitchen, Balto ran his paws over some gradually warming water and doused them in some soap from under the sink. It was expensive stuff, but it was specifically for scales, since normal soap would just irritate the skin underneath if it wasn¡¯t thoroughly washed away.


    Drying them on a towel hanging from a cabinet, Balto hurried back to the table.


    ¡°Um...Balto, dear¡­¡± Mother started, pointing at him then to her chest area. ¡°Your harness.¡±


    Balto gasped and quickly ran to the backdoor, unclasping the three straps keeping the harness fastened to his body. He set it neatly on a hook just outside the door, exposed to the chilly nighttime wind. The dragon felt a kind, late night breeze cool the now exposed scales. There were visible lines on him from the harness, scales much lighter than the rest. Greyish-blue stripes against his natural aqua. He ran his tail over the most chaffed spots, rubbing them until soothed.


    Returning to the table, again, Balto placed himself at Harry¡¯s left, grabbed his stray fork, jabbed it into his dinner, and started with a warm smile, ¡°So Mr. Johnson¡¯s dogs were out today¡­¡±


    Father¡¯s calloused hand reached clear across this table and smacked Balto¡¯s fork clutching paw hard enough to make the drake drop it onto the table, a giant roll of sauced noodles with it. He backed away from the table holding his paw to his chest as it were in pain, and let out a confused chirp.


    He looked at his unhurt paw, worried that maybe he hadn¡¯t washed up diligently enough, but found not a smudge of dirt or stray pebble anywhere on him.


    ¡°What the fuck do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± Father snapped.


    ¡°George¡­¡± Mother sighed. Harry simply rolled his eyes at the situation and continued eating. ¡°Not at the¡­¡±


    ¡°Quiet, Mary.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± Balto looked at his plate and back to his paws. ¡°I washed my paws...see?¡± The dragon held up both front paws, showing inside and out their cleanliness.


    ¡°Not that, you dumb shit!¡± Father snapped in a quiet whisper, smacking the dragon¡¯s paws down. His eyes darted to little Leslie who continued playing with a rattle that made little noises. ¡°You were about to eat at the table!¡±


    The dragon¡¯s eyes zoomed around the table rapidly, confused, until they landed on Mother who put on a fake but indifferent smile. She shrugged after catching Balto¡¯s pleading eyes.


    ¡°I...I thought I was allowed to¡­¡±


    ¡°Why would you think that? Because you¡¯ve earned it?¡±


    Balto nodded.


    ¡°Words, dragon! Use them!¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡±


    ¡°Why is that? Because from my count you¡¯ve been late three times this week. Now I¡¯m willing to apologize for yelling at you about Mr. Watson¡¯s gift to you. I called and he confirmed your story. I¡¯m not going to berate someone who doesn¡¯t deserve it so I¡¯m considering that your punishment, but none of this changes the fact that you were late. Now tell me, dragon, does that sound like the behavior of someone at this table?¡±


    ¡°But...but¡­¡± Balto pointed a claw at Harry and cried louder than he intended, ¡°But Harry got detention and was out past curfew the other night!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t raise your voice at me!¡± Father shouted, rising from his chair. Balto let out a yelp and went to low to the ground, covering both of his eyes with paws. ¡°And don¡¯t use my son against me. Harry¡¯s only a few months from the Marine Corp so if he wants to be a troublemaker for a little while that¡¯s perfectly fine. Now answer my question, dragon: is being late the behavior of someone at this table?¡±


    Balto uncovered his eyes and glanced around under the table. He shook his head.


    ¡°I don¡¯t speak gestures, dragon¡­¡±


    ¡°No, sir, it isn¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think so.¡± Father reset himself down in his chair. ¡°Your plate will be here when we¡¯re done. You¡¯re dismissed.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Balto mumbled before crawling out of the dining room and curling into a ball near the backdoor, crying yet again.


    +++


    No one went to the laundry room after dinner. No one went to tell him it was okay to get his dinner. No one checked to see if he was okay.


    The dragon wasn¡¯t hungry anymore. He just wanted to wait the minutes until someone finally thought to come get him, until someone found him waiting beside the dirty clothes and washing machine.


    Balto listened to Harry tell Father more stories to which Father laughed at and lauded over his son. The dragon listened to Mother asking about Harry¡¯s female friend Heather, and how Harry stumbled over words once the subject was opened.


    ¡°I got chased by dogs today¡­¡± Balto mumbled to himself, still waiting. ¡°Mr. Bunsen¡¯s truck broke down, and Mr. Fitzgerald was really mean.¡±


    What happened with the dogs? Balto thought of Father¡¯s voice. And what did that terrible old man do this time?


    Balto rubbed his sore eyes, listening as the table was cleared and dishes were taken to the kitchen sink. He peered into the hallway bisecting the house and saw Mother carrying plates with Harry not far behind carrying the bowls.


    He let out a quiet chirp, hoping to draw their attention, and when they didn¡¯t respond and headed towards the front of the house for family TV time, Balto whispered, ¡°Can I have dinner now?¡±


    He was purposefully quiet, he knew, but the dragon still hoped that Mother¡¯s keen ears would have noticed him.


    When no one came to get him, a while after hunger had subsided into a cold pit in his gut, the dragon uncurled himself and snaked back towards the dining room to sneak his plate back to his shed.


    It was gone.


    And the dragon suddenly felt very hungry.


    This is what you get for being late and breaking the rules.


    The rest of the family watched Gilligan''s Island, laughing and whispering between themselves. Someone said Balto''s name and it made his ears perk upright. He stepped towards the TV room with a smile, hoping to be invited to watch, but Father, arm behind Mother, was staring at the doorway, eyes narrowed with a finger pointing back the way Balto came. Ears and smile deflating, the dragon snuck backwards, drawing no attention from the rest of the family.


    Balto sighed and returned to the backdoor.


    Harry and Susie didn¡¯t get to watch TV when they acted up. This is the same thing.


    The dragon thought of Susie as his paws touched the lawn. He missed his sister. She used to come to his shed after dinner and talk to him while he readied his next day¡¯s deliveries. She would tell him about her day at school, the boys she liked, and the teachers she didn¡¯t. Balto missed Susie and dearly wished she would come back from wherever she went. All Mother and Father would tell him was she wanted to join the Peace Corps and he had forgotten.


    Balto wouldn''t forget something like that...would he?


    No, I definitely wouldn''t.


    He missed his sister and desperately wanted another letter to arrive. She hadn¡¯t written in a long time.


    Balto carried his harness to his shed, setting it heavily on his worktable beside the next day¡¯s stacks of letters.


    Mr. Watson¡¯s book was sitting on the table as well. The dragon let out an excited chirp and brought it over to his nest, using the lamp hanging over his nest for light.


    Worries evaporated as he opened to the first page.


    +++


    "Well someone''s a messy eater."


    He licked his chops and slurped up some noodles. He felt a nuzzle at the back of his head. He nipped at them angrily but kept eating. He couldn''t believe how good it was!


    "Give him another meatball. I think he likes those more."


    He pounced on it once it plopped into his bowl. He couldn''t wait to have a bowl as big as Mom or Dad''s.

 Chapter 3

    III


    Sunlight filtered through the lone window above Balto¡¯s worktable, creating a perfect square of light on the dirty floor of the shed. Strands of light splintered off dust into infinite directions, softly illuminating the rest of Balto''s home, and even Balto himself, partially covered in an old blanket with Mr. Watson''s opened book under the dragon''s chin.


    I''m so tired...


    Balto let out a loud yawn and stretched out of the confines of his nest for a moment, feeling and looking rather cat-like as he did so. Looking around his shed, eyes oddly strained and blurry, the dragon felt confused for a moment, unconsciously shutting the book and sliding it safely under his nest, right where his stamps would have been.


    Hey, at least you didn''t sleep in late.


    Heading towards the main house, the scent of cooked bacon and pancakes drifted through the air lazily on the morning breeze. The dragon, feeling playful, placed himself against the outside wall and snuck around the foundation until he came to a window leading directly into the dining room.


    Father and Mother, who dutifully fed Leslie from her breast with a blanket covering the act, spoke to each other about Susie while they ate, and Harry ate wordlessly. That didn''t mean he was quiet about it though. The dragon reared up onto his hinds, planted both forepaws on the windowsill, a few feet from the ground, and smiled directly inside.


    Nobody noticed him until he whispered ¡°boo¡±. Father jolted in place, his back towards Balto, while Mother, who saw him from across the table, laughed quietly, continuing to feed Leslie. Harry was left momentarily stopped but he did not relent on his meal.


    ¡°What are you doing, Balto?¡± Father grumbled, feigning coolness as he smoothed his hand over his morning shirt. ¡°Come get breakfast or you¡¯ll be hungry on your route. Also I need to speak to you before you head out.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the young dragon replied, hopping down from the window and making his way back to the rear of the house.


    Prancing inside lightly, Balto found a plate waiting for him at the table. He didn¡¯t dare try eating at the table again, especially after noticing Father¡¯s eyes wandering over to him as he pretended to look at his morning paper. Instead, Balto took his plate, set himself down in the doorway to the hall, and ate there.


    ¡°What did you want to talk about, Father?¡± Balto questioned, making sure to swallow his first bite of pancake and bacon before speaking. He even licked the syrup about to drip off the front of his snout before it could stain the floor. He wasn''t particularly fond of syrup, but he was too hungry to care.


    Maybe he¡¯s going to let me eat at the table.


    ¡°Well since you¡¯re already here, I guess I¡¯ll tell you.¡± The man turned in his chair and looked directly at the dragon. ¡°I need you to detour to Dursly today during your morning route.¡±


    Balto, mid-bite on some more syrupy pancakes, looked at Father confusedly...then worriedly, a minor tremble forming at the tip of his tail.


    ¡°What about Carville or¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll still do your normal route, but I need you to deliver to Dursly first. I am going to give you a letter that needs sent to the post office as soon as possible so it can get sent out with the rest of it. Can you do this for me, Balto?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Balto replied, trying his best to sound calm and not at all terrified of returning to Dursly so soon. Dursly wasn¡¯t even supposed to receive mail that day, giving Balto a nice day or two to not worry about the brothers tormenting him.


    ¡°I know you don¡¯t like going there, but this is important.¡±


    "Don''t like" isn''t close at all.


    Despite himself, Balto sat up on his haunches and nodded dutifully. ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Good boy. Now eat your breakfast so you can get going. I''ll be right back.¡± Father folded his paper shut, set it on the table, and left the dining room for his office.


    Harry glared across the table towards Balto. ¡°You¡¯re a suck up.¡±


    ¡°Harry!¡± Mother snapped quietly.


    ¡°I mean he is.¡±


    Balto looked down at his plate and whispered, ¡°I¡¯m just doing what I¡¯m told.¡±


    ¡°Ya know what they call people like that?¡±


    ¡°Harold¡­¡±


    ¡°Suck ups.¡±


    Balto didn¡¯t make eye contact. He simply continued eating, a little more dejected than he liked to feel.


    Mother shushed Leslie as she fussed, and scorned Harry with a few seconds of harsh stares. He shrugged it off and continued eating with a quiet ¡°...just a dragon¡­¡± under his breath.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Balto sighed but kept eating.


    Father eventually came back with a large manilla envelope and set it beside the dragon. ¡°It¡¯s got some business documents in it that need to be delivered to a partner of mine, so be careful with it.¡±


    ¡°I will, sir.¡±


    Father sat back down, Balto finished eating, and Harry kept smirking to himself, finding his own thoughts funny.


    +++


    The dragon went gliding over the endless plains of growing wheat and corn, over the scattered houses and farms, each one attended to by small families and livestock. The dragon cast his eyes in every direction, eyeing the landscape and letting his imagination run wild with fantasy battles and adventure. He watched the road below whip past him, thinking of the long trek Frodo and his fellowship had before them.


    And before himself.


    Balto straightened himself mid-flight, putting on a show of bravery like the brave Strider.


    Coming up to Carville first, the closest town by far and on the way to Dursly anyway, Balto scanned the roads for Mr. Bunsen. While he wasn¡¯t hoping that Mr. Bunsen was having car troubles again, Balto hoped he would find the man in need so that he may lend a claw to assist. He knew it was selfish, but the dragon didn¡¯t dwell on the feeling for too long.


    He was feeling brave and ready to do battle with the forces of evil¡­


    ...or the forces of faulty mechanical engineering. Balto would take either one.


    Balto excitedly yelped when the sight of Mr. Bunsen¡¯s truck appeared in the distance, not stuck in the same spot as before, though he tempered himself, reminding himself that he shouldn¡¯t have wished for misfortune in the first place.


    That didn¡¯t stop Balto from smiling to himself and feeling full of giddy excitement.


    Circling above Mr. Bunsen, who was alone this time, Balto called down with, ¡°Is something wrong, Mr. Bunsen? Is there something I can do to help?¡±


    Please say ¡°yes¡±. I can help. Let me help.


    ¡°Actually there is!¡± Mr. Bunsen shouted back. ¡°Can you land on the road and help push my truck outta this damn hole?¡±


    ¡°Yes I can!¡± Balto cried, finishing a rotation in the sky before leveling with the road and descending to the tar and asphalt below. His footing faltered, still partially gliding as a gust of wind blew him sideways, and the dragon found himself falling forward and rolling awkwardly onto his back in a daze.


    The dragon shook his head, got back to his feet, and hurried to Mr. Bunsen¡¯s truck. He planted his front paws on the tailgate, ready to push, and watched the old man in need as he climbed back into the cab. The back right wheel was stuck in a hole born in the shoulder of the road. It was deep and dangerous looking.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Balto asked. ¡°This hole looks pretty big. Did someone dig it up?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m just an old man who swerved into the shoulder by accident. Damn governor won¡¯t fix our little roads if they don¡¯t connect to the highway.¡±


    ¡°Well, at least they aren¡¯t that bad right now,¡± Balto added.


    ¡°For now. Are you ready?¡±


    The engine sputtered to life. Groaning metal gears and oiled joints jostled the whole vehicle. Balto nodded to Mr. Bunsen¡¯s reflection in his door mirror.


    ¡°Push!¡± Mr. Bunsen screamed, pressing his foot on the gas. Balto threw all of his might into his hind legs and pushed on the back of the truck. Balto let out a grunt and growled as his hinds scraped and gouged the dirt below, dragging tiny, sharp rocks under his claws.


    But the truck lurched forward suddenly, sending Balto forward awkwardly again. He landed roughly on his chin with a grumble and watched as Mr. Bunsen waved his hand back at Balto, hollering, ¡°Thank you!¡±


    Balto waved back with a paw, but not as goodbye. He waved wildly, crying as loud as he could manage, ¡°Can you give me a ride?!¡±, but Mr. Bunsen was already too far to hear him. The dragon¡¯s ears flattened sadly, and he let out a quiet whine before straightening himself up.


    Balto thought back to Mr. Watson¡¯s book and something he had read: ¡°Dragons don¡¯t whine.¡± He wasn¡¯t about to prove it wrong. Dragons didn¡¯t whine, Balto repeated to himself and began the trek towards Carville on foot, feeling like a modern day, one-dragon Fellowship.


    The young drake put on that same brave face that Strider would have and walked on.


    +++


    The young dragon took his first step into Carville with uncomfortable paws and a mighty thirst. He spent most of the distance in a daydream, battling orcs as they ambushed him from behind cornstalks, even beginning to dance around invisible attacks and parry savage sword swipes with his wings. The dragon laughed to himself before composing himself again. He had letters to deliver.


    Stopping by the Bunsen¡¯s house first, Balto found Mr. Bunsen eyeing the tailgate of his truck.


    ¡°Hello, Mr. Bunsen,¡± Balto started, placing a paw on one of his pouches. ¡°I just came to check on you. I don¡¯t have any mail for you today.¡±


    Mr. Bunsen shook his head a few times, running his fingers over a set of jagged scratches in the tailgate¡¯s paint. The dragon looked a little closer, realizing the must have formed from his pushing.


    ¡°Oh...I¡¯m sorry,¡± Balto whispered.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± the man replied, shaking his head. ¡°I should¡¯ve realized this would happen. Just...get going. I have to paint this up before the missus sees it.¡±


    ¡°I...I can help you if you want¡­¡± Balto told the aging man, but received a stern, angry rejection that made the young drake recoil. ¡°O...okay. I¡¯m...I¡¯m sorry¡­¡±


    The dragon hurriedly left Mr. Bunsen¡¯s driveway and headed towards the rest of his route, ears a little flat against his head. He went from house to house receiving his usual treatment of head pats and cookies that brightened his mood, but the lingering thought of damaging Mr. Bunsen''s truck still stung.


    Heroes weren''t supposed to mess up like that. It was such a stupid mistake, and Balto knew he should have been careful with his claws. He knew he was overexcited to help the man and it made him make a mistake.


    About halfway down Crawford street, a few blocks from Mr. And Mrs. Bunsen''s home, Balto stopped to inspect his claws angrily.


    "Stupid...stupid paws¡­" he snapped at himself. After a moment of quiet self-contempt, the dragon sighed, forced a change in expression, and continued his route. He made his way to the town''s flight balcony, and made the worrying flight to Dursly, quiet¡­


    ...but still smiling.

 Chapter 4

    IV


    Balto, lost in another daydream as he soared closer to the clouds than he should have been at his age, completely forgot about Dursly and the possible torment awaiting him. He swooned and spun through the air, mouthing shouts at imaginary companions that followed his lead as they fled away from Ringwraiths and horsebacked orcs that chased them from the ground.


    The dragon arrived at the outskirts of Dursly just as one of the monsters captured one of his friends, but Balto the Courier put his make-believe battle on pause, replaced his battle-ready grimace for a servitory smile, and landed on the Dursly flight balcony.


    Straight to the post...


    Something shattered under the dragon''s weight and sent one of his hinds crashing down through the rotten floor boards¡­


    The dragon let out an annoyed grunt and pulled his leg out of the new hole. He tried to at least. Pushing on his other hind, even for the momentary need to remove his trapped leg, broke another floorboard under him, sending his rear half downwards into the empty space between balcony and solid ground.


    The dragon let out a terrified cry as his lower half fell. His tail flailed around below, his hinds kicked around, hoping to find purchase on a support beam, while his front claws gouged into the balcony''s wooden structure.


    ¡°Help!¡± he cried out again. ¡°Please!¡±


    Balto dared to look backwards and see the plummet to the ground beneath him. Looking towards broken bones and an unhappy walk home, he yelped, felt the adrenaline kick in, and pulled with all his might. A board came loose in his right paw but he quickly moved to another piece of wood, wedging his claws between the floorboards to grip it.


    He pulled himself up through sheer strength but immediately felt more wood beginning the bend under him.


    His hinds fell again but the dragon was ready and caught himself before anymore of his body fell again.


    The dragon pulled himself back up, yanked his claws out of the floor, and sprinted and stumbled his way out of the flight balcony, afraid that it might just entirely collapse onto his back. Throwing himself free onto some grass, the dragon let out a quiet sob, the terror and panic leaving far too slowly.


    It took the young dragon several minutes to get back to his feet, but when he did, he was laughing, feeling strong in his survival, and he put on a kind, brave, even sincere smile. He bounded forward, ready for whatever came next.


    +++


    Balto was not ready for what came next. Less than a block away from the post office, Balto allowed himself to slow down, ignoring the many disgruntled looks he received from the locals. He took his quadrepedal strides in comfort, glancing at the staring ones with a hearty grin, allowing himself to imagine he was receiving a heroes welcome for the safe deliv¡­


    Kthonk!


    As the sound rattled around in his head and shook his skull painfully, Balto collapsed forward onto the sidewalk, scraping his chin and the scutes on his chest against the rough pavement. He gasped for air that would not fill his lungs, the shock of it setting in. He reached up and felt the wound on his head, right square between all of his horns. It felt wet.


    It looked red when he looked at his paw.


    It didn''t hurt though. It only knocked him off balance it seemed.


    Balto felt a hand gently caress his head.


    His ears flattened immediately...


    Eyes widened¡­


    Heart raced...no, it thundered¡­


    Rushing blood and terror¡­


    It deafened him. It paralyzed him.


    It clipped his wings and trimmed his claws.


    The sight of tight fitting blue jeans and a scabby set of knuckles turned the survivor of the Dursly flight balcony into a welp, a little dragon baby again.


    Balto trembled, keeping his eyes low and chest lower. He didn''t dare attempt to run. He wouldn''t make it far, he knew.


    Even if he did get away to safety, which there was none in Dursly, he knew too, all they''d have to do was wait at the flight balcony.


    "I missed you, Baldo," Jimmy West said, patting the top of Balto''s head harshly until he began whimpering. The dragon felt a foot firmly plant itself on his tail; one of Jimmy West''s brothers. It was probably Vince. He liked to step on Balto. "We missed you yesterday, but I wasn¡¯t expectin¡¯ ya to show up this early in the mornin¡¯. Not even ten yet. Wanna hear about our whore mother makin'' us stay home and clean?"


    Balto shook his head.


    "Well, why not?" the boy grumbled sadly, petting behind the dragon''s ear. ¡°It¡¯s rude not to listen to people when they ask.¡±


    "I...I need to finish my¡­my route..."


    "Oh, you mean these?" Jimmy West, the eldest, biggest, and scariest of the West siblings, whipped his hand forward at Balto''s pouches.


    It was entirely instinctual, Balto''s retaliation. He didn''t mean to do it, nor had he wanted to, but as afraid of Jimmy and his brothers and the rest of Dursly as he was, Balto was more afraid of only one thing.


    Disappointing Father¡­


    Balto''s teeth clamped onto Jimmy West''s forearm, poking skin at first, only wanting to scare the teenager, but Jimmy West was ready for it and pulled on the ear he had been rubbing behind. Balto let out a yelp of frightened pain and properly bit down into the soft flesh of Jimmy West''s forearm.


    Balto snapped his eyes closed.


    There was screaming and the feeling of being yanked.


    He tasted something warm and salty and metallic.


    He felt rapid blows to his head. Even in the darkness of his shut eyelids, his world spiraled. He felt none of the pain, but all of the disorientation. He felt dizzy.


    Fingers jabbed his eyeball but he whipped his head away, something giving way in his teeth as he did.


    There was some more screaming.


    Some more hitting and some yanking.


    Balto covered his head with his forelegs and wings and let the rest of him take the beating. Balto felt the pain finally. He felt it between his ribs and where his liver was. It paralyzed him. It took his strength.


    He felt so weak. Weaker and weaker with each punch and kick.


    One snuck its way around his forelegs and wings and struck him in the head.


    Then he felt lighter, like he might float or just fly away. Like the weight of everything had disappeared from him and it felt¡­


    ...it felt blissful not being so heavy anymore.


    It was¡­


    Freeing.


    Balto didn¡¯t let out a single whimper of pain until well after they had stopped and left to bandage the eldest brother¡¯s arm. Morning sunlight beat down on him; concrete rubbed uncomfortable against his hide.


    The dragon let out a pained wheeze as he opened his eyes. Across the road, just outside the post office, a woman was pointing at him, talking to a man in blue. The details of the man were too blurry to make out from the watery beads dotting the outline of his eyes. Balto looked on pleadingly as the man in blue crossed the road.


    ¡°Officer¡­¡± Balto mumbled appreciatively, finally recognizing the blue outfit. ¡°I think I¡¯m hurt¡­¡±


    ¡°Get off the sidewalk, please,¡± the officer said. There was patient annoyance in his voice.


    The dragon, in all of his slowly creeping agony and trembling legs, pushed off the ground, firmly...weakly planting his paws on the concrete. He winced and whined in the back of his throat before adding, ¡°Will you call my father for me please?¡±


    Rolling his eyes, the officer snapped, ¡°Just get off the sidewalk."


    The young drake complied, stepping into someone''s yard before being berated rather sternly by the officer. The dragon stumbled forward past the officer, tail tucked and ears flattened, stepping into the hazardous road. Father and Mother had warned Balto about walking in the road, but the dragon truly saw no choice now.


    "Can you call my Father now?" he asked again, avoiding eye contact.


    The man snorted and snapped, "There''s a payphone down the street."


    Balto felt the spot where his chest pouches had been and grimaced at the officer. He looked down at the ground and grimaced.


    "No money, huh?"


    Balto didn''t want to tell the officer that he usually didn''t have money, unless it was the penny-tips he was awarded for being a good mail-drake. The dragon made a quiet whine and opened his mouth slightly, wanting desperately to speak.


    The police officer sneered down at Balto, one hand on his nightstick and the other at his waist. He said, "No money, huh?"


    Balto shook his head.


    "Well, damn...here in Dursly we call that vagrancy."


    +++


    Balto lay on the lone mattress inside of a small seven-by-seven foot square of concrete walls and metal bars. He barely fit inside, let alone on the mattress. He kept his back to the bars and any of the officers that came to gawk at him. Balto didn''t want them to see him cry.


    That didn''t stop them from snickering to themselves.


    Voices echoed around the concrete hall. Balto could hear their gossip. The officer who arrested him, who roughly shackled all of his limbs with cuffs so small he couldn''t even walk to the station without being dragged, had told his fellow officers about the bloody menace Balto had been, attacking the West boys and destroying the town''s mail.


    The dragon growled through his bitter tears when he heard it, but no one was there to hear it. No one to hear him contest the telling.


    But Balto knew Father would listen. He would get to call Father soon and he''d come help him. He''d come to Dursly and confront the officers and demand they go after Jimmy and his brothers.  They needed to return Balto''s pouches and the mail.


    Keys jangled at the end of the hall. Shoes clattered noisily. Wheezy breath filled the air.


    "Dragon," a new voice muttered. "Your phone call."


    Balto was scrambling to his feet before the man had even reached his cell. The dragon pounced one paw after the other until he was led out of the cell and guided to a payphone in one of the station walls. The officer handed him a quarter and said, "Press one then the rest of the number. It won''t go through otherwise."


    Balto, with the tip of his tail,  pressed "1" and stared blankly at the rest of the numbers.


    Fear wracked through Balto''s entire body even before his phone call chaperone asked what the hold-up was.


    "Do you have a phonebook?"


    The man rolled his eyes, reached over Balto''s head and grabbed a thick book from the very top of the payphone, just out of sight. The officer tossed the book down to Balto''s feet and snapped, "Hurry up."


    The dragon wasted no time. He found the number he needed, luckily, and dialed, tapping one of his hindpaws until the receiver picked up.


    "Hello?"


    "I...it''s Balto. I need help¡­"


    +++


    Balto paced in his tiny cell over and over again, though it felt like he was just spinning in circles because of how cramped it was. The dragon¡¯s tail dragged behind him. His ears remained flattened against his head. His eyes stayed open and wide and blankly staring into the concrete floor.


    Jangling keys and two pairs of feet approached Balto¡¯s cell, noises that made Balto¡¯s ear perk straight up and form a quiet smile from him.


    ¡°Here he is, Mr. Lee. Officer Grady put him in for vagrancy or something. You said that you¡¯re his uncle?¡±


    Mr. Watson nodded and looked sadly at Balto as his tail waved back and forth excitedly, ready to be freed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about this, Mr. Lee¡­¡±


    ¡°It is ¡®Watson¡¯. Lee is my first name.¡±


    ¡°Sorry...Mr. Watson...Grady brough


    ¡°Where¡¯s his pack?¡± Mr. Watson eyed the officer worriedly then back at Balto, who¡¯s ears had flattened again.


    ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±


    ¡°Balto is one of my brother¡¯s courier dragons. Where is his delivery?¡±


    ¡°Jimmy West took it,¡± Balto murmured.


    The officer shrugged. ¡°The West boys are always actin¡¯ up. I¡¯ll need you to sign some things and we¡¯ll go and get it back. I don¡¯t particularly like it when the one who delivers my mail gets assaulted and robbed.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Balto muttered, smiling weakly.


    ¡°Even if they are a reptile¡­¡± the officer added, stabbing Balto in the gut. Finally unlocking the cell door and sliding it fully open.


    Mr. Watson frowned but left the comment alone. He said, ¡°I¡¯d like to speak with Balto before we leave.¡±


    ¡°Fine, but don¡¯t take too long. The rest of the boys don¡¯t particularly like the thing getting out.¡± The officer left them.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t even do anything to them,¡± Balto mumbled.


    "I know." Mr. Watson consoled Balto with a soft touch under his chin, lifting his eyes away from the floor. It was strange. Usually people liked to rub and pet him when he looked down, but Mr. Watson didn''t do that.


    And Balto felt...odd...


    The man looked at Balto and said, "Are you okay? Scales don''t hide bruises as well as you''d think. Is that your blood on your lip?"


    Touching his snout and tasting something metallic, Balto looked up at Mr. Watson''s concerned face and shook his head softly.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Something was heavy in his chest; something that made him want to heave and cry. The young drake whimpered out, "They...they hurt me...real bad. My hinds hurt and it...and it hurts to breathe if I turn a certain way and...and and and and...They only used to chase me and throw rocks and yell at me!¡± Balto¡¯s tail slapped the floor hard in frustration and his ears fell backwards some more as he looked to the floor again.


    Mr. Watson only nodded and gestured for Balto to lead the way out of the jail, which the dragon did very slowly, limping along with his right hind hiked up painfully.


    Balto was escorted out of the police station, another square brick building with very few windows, once the paperwork had been signed and a whispered conversation between Mr. Watson and the officer with the keys had come to an end. Outside, Balto looked for Mr. Watson¡¯s car but all there was on the street were the town¡¯s police cars and a new looking truck.


    ¡°Is that yours?¡± Balto asked Mr. Watson as he came outside with the officer.


    ¡°It is,¡± he answered. ¡°Climb into the back and Officer Harding will take us to this West boy¡¯s house.¡±


    ¡°I...I...I don¡¯t think that I should go with¡­¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to talk to them, but we still need to get the rest of that mail back.¡±


    ¡°But...but I bit him¡­¡± Balto eyed Officer Harding in his periphery. ¡°I¡¯m going to get put in jail again¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that. They should be more afraid of going to jail themselves¡­¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think people here really care that they hurt me.¡±


    Mr. Watson pursed his lips tightly and added, ¡°I meant the mail. Stealing mail is a federal offense.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Balto replied.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean what they did is okay, understand?¡±


    Balto shrugged and scrambled awkwardly over the side of the truck, planting his paws firmly between the strange grooves in the truckbed. It took a moment for Balto¡¯s paws to become accustomed to the strange and uncomfortable waving metal. Mr. Watson had climbed into the truck, started the engine, and pulled forward before the dragon could even situate himself, off-balancing the dragon so that he landed on his aching side.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Mr. Watson called from the cabin. ¡°I forgot to check if you were okay yet. You¡¯ve probably never ridden in a truck before.¡±


    The dragon shook his head, maneuvered his head towards Mr. Watson¡¯s open window, and answered, ¡°No. Father doesn¡¯t want me scratching the inside of cars either, so I fly everywhere I go.¡±


    Officer Harding led them down a road.


    ¡°That...that sounds absolutely exhausting,¡± the human replied. ¡°Do you deliver mail every single day too?¡±


    They turned a few times, but still headed in the same direction.


    Balto nodded. ¡°Except Sundays, but otherwise, I don¡¯t mind it. I like flying and people appreciate it when I give them their mail.¡± Balto caught Mr. Watson making a grim expression through one of his truck¡¯s big side mirrors.


    They passed the flight balcony.


    Mr. Watson looked at the structure the entire way by. ¡°When I was young, balconies were everywhere. They were brimming with dragons. So many of them coming and going. So many kinds. Dragons like you and dragons with webbing between their toes and so on. Just a huge assortment to be found everywhere¡­¡±


    The man followed Officer Harding down another turn and pulled up to a nice enough looking home. There was a fence, a porch, and a well-groomed lawn. On the porch a large man with a newspaper sat, staring at them curiously, occasionally spitting towards bushes off to the side of the house.


    ¡°But here and now...when was the last time you saw another dragon?¡± Mr. Watson looked at Balto. Balto looked at Mr. Watson.


    ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± Officer Harding stated as he lumbered out of his car. ¡°Let me talk to their father first. He¡¯s not exactly a fan of your people.¡±


    Mr. Watson shrugged. ¡°No one ever is.¡±


    ¡°Your people?¡± Balto questioned as the officer headed towards the fence gate. ¡°Is it a club? Do you hang out in big rooms like my mom does with her club? She calls it a club, but I think it¡¯s just a bunch of her friends.¡±


    Mr. Watson laughed a little and chortled, ¡°Don¡¯t change, Balto.¡±


    ¡°I...I don¡¯t understand¡­¡±


    ¡°Jim!¡± the man on the porch shouted loud enough to make both Balto and Mr. Watson jolt in place. Balto craned his head upwards and looked towards the porch. Jimmy West appeared in the front door, standing straighter than any plank of wood Balto had ever seen.


    Balto watched Jimmy West¡¯s lips form a very loud ¡°yes sir¡± followed by very loud yelling from his father. Balto caught the words ¡°chink¡± and ¡°pigs¡± and ¡°bully¡± but whined loudly when the West patriarch reached down and snatched Jimmy¡¯s bandaged arm, wrenching it back and forth as the teenage boy cried in pain.


    ¡°Go get it!¡± the man screamed, throwing the boy back inside. ¡°And bring your brothers here!¡±


    Balto whimpered, angered and saddened and conflicted at the same time.


    ¡°Why...why isn¡¯t Officer Harding doing anything?¡± Balto grumbled, moving back to Mr. Watson¡¯s window. ¡°I...I don¡¯t want him to get hurt...I already bit him pretty bad...¡±


    He only shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s none of our business how a man discipline¡¯s his children.¡±


    ¡°But...but¡­¡± Balto touched his own foreleg and huffed. He looked on, sadness and confliction easing into deeper anger for Jimmy West¡¯s father. Balto would never hurt his little ones, no matter how mad they made him or how late they were.


    Strider would never hurt children. Strider would protect them.


    ¡°Balto,¡± Mr. Watson started. ¡°You¡¯re showing your teeth.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m angry.¡±


    ¡°I know. I am too, but showing your teeth won¡¯t help anyone. It¡¯ll just scare people.¡±


    Balto knew Mr. Watson was right and retreated, hiding his anger and letting his tail thrash about behind him instead. The rest of the siblings came out, both with neatly tied stacks of letters in their arms. Jimmy was close behind, carrying Balto¡¯s harness and pouches.


    Their father pointed over at them without a word. They obeyed without hesitation, quickly dumping the items in the bed of the truck. Jimmy threw the harness in roughly, glared at Balto, and mouthed a vicious threat at him. Balto couldn¡¯t feel anger towards the boy, not when the bandages around his arm had a new red handprint soaking in them.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± was all Balto replied, confusing Jimmy West for a moment before he hurried back to his father and siblings.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t need to apologize to him. You don¡¯t need to grow up in a nice place to know you shouldn¡¯t hurt people.¡±


    After a few more words with the father, Officer Harding said his goodbye and returned to Mr. Watson¡¯s truck.


    ¡°Well, that went better than I thought it would.¡±


    ¡°How so? He seemed to man-handle his boy pretty harshly.¡±


    ¡°He hurt him¡­¡± Balto added quietly.


    ¡°I¡¯d keep your mouth shut, if I were you, dragon,¡± Officer Harding snapped. ¡°I saw that bite on his arm.¡± After Balto lowered himself into the depth of the truckbed, Officer Harding continued: ¡°He was more upset that his boys had the cops at his house again, and something a bit more colorful about you.¡±


    ¡°I imagine so. Well, thank you for your help, officer.¡±


    The officer scratched his nose and went on his way, not another word from him.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s get you home¡­¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Balto jumped and shouted, drawing the attention of Officer Harding as he was passing in his car. ¡°Sorry,¡± Balto mouthed, watching as the man drove away. He returned to Mr. Watson¡¯s window and said, ¡°I...I can¡¯t. I deliver my mail every single day. I am never late. Father will be very disappointed in me if I¡¯m late!¡±


    The man turned in his seat fully and snapped back, ¡°Well, you can¡¯t very well fly all over the place. Look at you. You can barely walk¡­¡±


    Balto looked at Mr. Watson for a moment, huffing indignantly, and began inspecting his deliveries, ensuring each stack was complete. He slipped into his harness, needing to tie together severed loose ends. It was uncomfortable and hurt his ribs when he clambered out, and even more so when he landed on the road and collapsed under the weakness of his hind legs.


    ¡°What are you doing, Balto?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m finishing my route,¡± the dragon grumbled, limping towards town again.


    Mr. Watson sighed, turned his truck on, and turned around in the street with a great amount of difficulty. He pulled up beside the injured dragon and said, ¡°Get in and I¡¯ll drive you around.¡±


    Balto, mid-step, looked up at Mr. Watson¡¯s pleading expression and said, ¡°Really?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°I can¡¯t in good conscience let you walk on that leg of yours.¡±


    Feeling the ache in his hind tear through him, Balto easily relented and scrambled back up the side of Mr. Watson¡¯s truck, rolling onto his side to cushion his sudden drop into the bed.


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing you still need to drop off this town¡¯s mail?¡±


    Balto nodded and said as much, panting in pain as he did.


    ¡°Where to after that?¡±


    ¡°Newman and then Clifford...if we have time. I need to be home for lunch.¡±


    Mr. Watson looked at Balto in his mirror again. ¡°You make this trip every single day?¡±


    ¡°Well, normally it goes: Carville, Newman, and then Clifford, but Father gave me a special delivery that needed to be sent out today. Normally I¡¯d drop off mail in the afternoon after they already had their local mailman deliver everything, so whatever I brought would be sent out the next day.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s still a very...that¡¯s a pretty lengthy flight, especially for someone your age. Your parents let you do that?¡±


    ¡°Well, of course, Father was the one who asked me to do it. He said it was an important job and it would make him very happy if he could have me do it instead of a stranger no one would know. People recognize me now and even give me snacks and pennies. Oh! If you take me home after I¡¯m done with my morning route, I can show the stamps I buy with the pennies! I have this really pretty Geronimo stamp that¡¯s really rare I guess.¡±


    Balto watched the flight balcony fly past, giving it an angry glare. The young drake smiled after, undoing the knot he tied with his harness straps and letting the pouches and leather fall off him. He let his wings unravel slightly until he felt them beginning to catch air and pulled them back in. The air flowed over his face and around his ears freely. He smiled happily, letting himself relax.


    +++


    Balto was nearly asleep on the road to Newman when Mr. Watson started speaking again.


    ¡°Balto? Balto wake up,¡± the man said, slowing down enough that the roar of the engine didn¡¯t consume his voice completely.


    The dragon grumbled, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of warm sunlight bathing his exposed chest and undercarriage. His head was mostly propped up by his pouches of mail, and he was careful not to tear them with his horns or scratch Mr. Watson¡¯s truck with them either.


    ¡°I have a question that I need answered.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mr. Watson?¡±


    ¡°Please, just call me Lee. I don¡¯t like being called Mr. Watson. Okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mr. Lee.¡±


    ¡°Just Lee. No mister.¡±


    ¡°Okay...Lee.¡± The dragon didn¡¯t move an inch from how he laid.


    ¡°Why did you call me and not your parents? I¡¯m a stranger to you, Balto. You can¡¯t just call strangers. Some people aren¡¯t very nice. What if I wanted to hurt you more? You have no idea.¡±


    ¡°I thought about that when I found you in the phonebook, but you were really nice to me yesterday. Nicer than most people, even the nice ones. You¡¯re the nicest. And¡­¡± Balto brought his front paws together and tapped two claws together nervously. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to disappoint my dad. If he finds out that some kids beat me up, he¡¯ll yell at me like he yelled at Harry when he got in a fight at school. He was really proud of Harry after he found out he won, but I lost. I lost badly. I didn¡¯t even fight. I let them beat me up. Dad would be so disappointed in me. I...I couldn¡¯t call him.¡±


    Lee didn¡¯t say anything directly, but Balto could make out quiet sighs from the man.


    ¡°Also I lost the mail¡­¡± Balto added reluctantly, truthfully. ¡°I¡¯ve never lost the mail. Ever. I can¡¯t...I can¡¯t tell him that I lost the mail...not even for a little bit. Especially since I¡¯ve been late a lot lately. I¡¯m...I¡¯m disappointing Father so much already. I can¡¯t disappoint him anymore.¡±


    Lee let out another sigh and said, ¡°If your father knows how hard you¡¯re working, especially considering how far you fly every day, I don¡¯t think he¡¯s disappointed in you. He loves you; he just doesn¡¯t have the words for it. My own father was like that. A lot of dads are like that.¡±


    The dragon smiled. He sure hoped so. He couldn¡¯t remember a single time Father had said ¡°I love you¡± to Balto, but he knew that Father loved him. He fed Balto, gave him a home, and one day, when he earned it, he would let him eat at the table with them.


    Hopefully that day would be today.


    Balto became giddy with excitement.


    ¡°We¡¯re almost there,¡± Lee said as they passed the big sign introducing drivers to the town of Newman.


    Balto looked at the sky, making shapes out of the clouds as they moved quickly down the road. He hadn¡¯t ever looked at the sky so early in the morning. The sky was so bright and blue and full of birds so much higher than Balto ever thought to fly. He knew one day he¡¯d be strong enough to fly that high.


    Oh how badly he wanted to fly that high and look down at everything when it was so small! He had tried once before when he was younger, but he didn¡¯t make it very far off the ground. He wondered why he had never tried again. The clouds were so close to his touch.


    Maybe he was already strong enough to reach them!


    ¡°Do you think I could fly up there?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Lee replied.


    ¡°With the birds. I¡¯ve never tried to go very high before.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really know. I don¡¯t know a lot about dragon adolescence. You should ask your father.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯d know either,¡± Balto muttered to himself, giving himself a dejected frown. Lee either didn¡¯t hear him or didn¡¯t have a response. Then again, Balto wasn¡¯t sure if he wanted Lee to respond.


    The dragon rolled back onto his paws and looked at Newman. It was nice not having to land on painful gravel roads.


    It was nice not having to fly for a little bit too.


    Balto¡¯s wings, despite the relatively short drive from Dursly to Newman, had never felt so well-rested before. At least not during his daily route.


    Balto gazed at houses and stores passing them from over the roof of Lee¡¯s truck, smiling sincerely at the kind breeze floating around his face again. The pain in his hind leg had melted away almost, and he felt like he might fly again.


    The truck came to a stop just across the street from the post office.


    ¡°Please disembark from the S.S. Grumman.¡±


    ¡°This was a terrible boat ride,¡± Balto replied, faux repulsion in his playful tone. ¡°Simply too much road.¡±


    Lee chuckled with the dragon as he staggered over the edge once more. He watched worriedly as the dragon crossed the street, paying more attention to the stacks of neatly tied up letters in his paws than how safe it was to cross.


    Reaching the glass door again, Balto shook it a few times and found that it was unlocked and ready to be opened. The dragon made his way inside and set the stacks of letters designated for Newman onto the counter. There was a bell on the counter too, and the dragon felt obligated to press it a few times.


    When nobody came to the bell¡¯s sound, Balto pressed it one more time, finding enjoyment in the way the noise echoed around the empty, white walls. No one came and once again the bell was rung, but this time there was intent and rhythm. The young drake made a little tune with the single note he was given.


    ¡°Stop it!¡± a grumpy sounding voice shrieked from deep in the rear of the post office.


    Balto¡¯s ears instantly fell backwards against his head. Not from the threatening tone of the voice, but rather who it belonged to.


    Mr. Fitzgerald came through the door leading to the back and shouted at the dragon once he noticed who was ringing the bell. He slammed his hand hard onto the counter, making Balto leap backwards worriedly.


    ¡°You stupid fucking lizard!! You dumb piece of shit!¡±


    ¡°What?! What did I do?!¡± Balto scurried into a nearby corner, curling his tail under him to protect it. ¡°Father said I could be late this time! I had a special delivery!¡±


    ¡°No, you stupid reptile! You didn¡¯t give my daughter what I gave you! She waited all day to get it but I bet you kept it! You kept that money, you fuckin¡¯ greedy worm!¡±


    ¡°No no no no no I...I delivered it to Four-One-Seven. Four-One-Seven: just like you told me!¡±


    The aging human walked around the counter and stepped extraordinarily close to Balto¡¯s crumbling, terrified form. ¡°Don¡¯t you fucking lie to me! My daughter lives at Four-Two-Seven! I want my money back right fucking now, or so help me God I will¡­¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going on here? I could hear you across the street.¡±


    Mr. Fitzgerald had already jabbed a finger at Balto¡¯s snout when the newcomer arrived. Balto yelped painfully and covered his head with a wing.


    ¡°I apologize, sir, but this little thief here¡­¡±


    ¡°Stole your money?¡± Balto pulled his wing down just enough to look at Lee standing in the opened door leading outside.


    ¡°Indeed. Not the first time, too.¡±


    ¡°Certainly not, but I¡¯m going to need to step away from him. That¡¯s pretty close and animals bite when they feel trapped.¡±


    Balto let out an shrill, sad chirp at Lee¡¯s words. He¡¯d never bite anyone¡­


    He thought about Jimmy West¡¯s arm and the red handprint in the bandages. The dragon hid his face again in shame.


    Mr. Fitzgerald took several very quick steps away from Balto, rounding the counter again, and shouted, ¡°Either give me my money back or I¡¯m going to call your father!¡±


    Balto leapt from the safety of his corner and yelped, ¡°No!¡±


    Lee threw an arm around Balto¡¯s chest as he rose up and planted his paws on the counter, head and neck towering nearly to the ceiling and looking down on a frightened Mr. Fitzgerald.


    ¡°Please!¡± the dragon cried. ¡°He¡¯s still mad about me being late yesterday!¡± Balto took massive breaths inward and rapidly expelled those breaths before his lungs could even accept the oxygen. He felt light-headed and terrified...at first.


    Anger suddenly boiled in the dragon¡¯s blood, making him bare his teeth at the old man.


    ¡°You said you wouldn¡¯t tell him! And then you did!¡±


    ¡°Balto!¡± Lee shouted over him.


    The dragon looked down at Lee and then at his claws, which were viciously gouging into the wooden countertop. He bounced backwards on his one good hind leg and heaved his breaths, panic and fear setting in. He took steps towards the exit, ignoring faint protests from both Lee and Mr. Fitzgerald, one more scared than the other.


    Balto found himself lying on his side in the truckbed unable to remember actually climbing in, but ready for Lee to take him to Clifford nonetheless...or maybe home.


    He wanted to go home. He wanted to go lay down in his nest of blankets and scrap clothing and read some more of Lee¡¯s book.


    He wanted to go home and eat a peanut butter sandwich from Mrs. Garc¨ªa and take a nap¡­


    Balto wanted to take a really long nap.


    He felt so tired all of the sudden.


    He felt so weak again. Not in pain, but just tired.


    He thought of his evening route and felt so much more tired and felt a sinking feeling in his gut...something that felt vaguely familiar but couldn¡¯t quite name.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Lee whispered over the top of his truckbed. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    Balto, unsure of his feelings, put a paw over his snout.


    ¡°Do you want me to take you home now?¡±


    The dragon replied with, ¡°No. I have to finish my route now while I have it with me¡­¡± He looked at Lee with one eye. ¡°Please?¡±


    Lee nodded, climbed into his truck, and they left Newman a few minutes later.

 Chapter 5

    V


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Balto asked as they came to a halt just a few minutes outside of Clifford. It took Balto a moment to realize where they were, having spent the majority of the ride looking at endless farmland and losing himself in daydream battle again, but quickly recognized the train tracks he had flown over so many times before. However, Balto had never been so close to a train before. It moved so loudly and quickly up close. It looked so slow from above and was so quiet, but only a few yards away from the roaring metal machine, Balto¡¯s ears ached from the noise.


    He yelped fearfully as a distant steam whistle sounded off.


    ¡°Yeah, I hate how loud they are too. I can hear it from home sometimes and I hate it.¡± Lee looked at Balto¡¯s pain expression in the mirror and added, ¡°I don¡¯t have sensitive dragon ears though. I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯ll pass soon.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just...kinda scary, ya know? Why is it so loud?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s to let people know it''s coming. Trains have to go from one side of the country to the other without stopping most of the time. They have to cut through towns and road and people need to know that they¡¯re coming or they''ll get run over.¡± Lee looked at a passing train car closely and added, ¡°I think this one¡¯s Washington.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever been there?¡± Balto asked, poking his head around Lee¡¯s window again to hear his words easier.


    ¡°I have.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s it like?¡±


    ¡°Well, I have a lot of family up there. I haven¡¯t talked to a lot of them in a while. Mostly aunts and uncles.¡±


    ¡°But what is it like? Does it rain a lot? Is it cold? Winters here are really cold. I have to wear so many layers that it makes flying a lot harder.¡±


    ¡°It rains a lot, but from what I remember, there¡¯s a public transit system. Buses and trolleys and the like. No one gets caught out in the rain there.¡±


    ¡°Well, who delivers people¡¯s mail then? Buses can¡¯t stop everywhere a mail-dragon has to stop.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a bunch of mailmen and dragons...well, not so many dragons anymore. Certainly not just one little guy like you to cover multiple towns.¡±


    Balto looked confusedly at the train cars as they passed. ¡°You mean...more than one person does the mail?¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah, definitely. Where I lived before...before I came back...I had three different mailmen. Was pretty good friends with one of them. His name was Todd and could make the best damn macaroni salad you¡¯d ever have. Jessica¡­¡± Lee became silent for a moment. A long moment. Balto felt Lee¡¯s melancholy seeping into his own mood. ¡°She liked it a lot.¡±


    The dragon watched quietly as the final train car passed. He eyed Lee for a moment before asking, ¡°Do you ever think of going back there?¡±


    ¡°Back where?¡±


    ¡°Washerton?¡±


    ¡°Washington,¡± Lee corrected, ¡°and yes, sometimes I do.¡±


    ¡°I want to visit there one day, I think.¡± Balto thought about Strider¡¯s many travels before discovering the Hobbits'' quest. He¡¯d like his own adventure too.


    Lee noticed the wanderlustful look in Balto¡¯s eyes as he looked into the sky and towards the horizon of distant houses and buildings.


    ¡°You can go there one day. Might even run into each other when that happens. Who knows?¡±


    Lee drove them onward towards Clifford.


    +++


    Balto, feeling rested enough and in little enough pain to allow it, asked Lee to return home for the time being while Balto made his usual route around Clifford, delivering mail to the waiting denizens. Lee relented after a few moments of watching Balto walk. He was obviously in pain, but he could walk still and Lee wasn¡¯t comfortable making demands at the dragon.


    Balto seemed intent on walking.


    He kept his harness and pouches loosely atop his back but still within easy reach. The dragon made his usual route, sliding letters into mailboxes and into grateful hands. It felt nice to receive kind looks again. Balto smiled back and feigned ignorance when asked why he looked so rough.


    Clifford didn¡¯t take long luckily as Balto¡¯s hind leg was beginning to throb once more, but the young drake had one final place he wanted to stop at before returning to Lee¡¯s home. The dragon found Four-One-Seven West Street.


    The courier steeled his nerves on his approach, lifting the gate latch and making his way onto the property. He listened bravely to the quiet bang bang bang of the shutters again, feeling them reverb through his bones like they had before. He crossed the lawn, walking carefully on the stepping stone walkway.


    Balto, heart thundering in his chest again, pulled open the mailbox lid. It shrieked to life, rusty axle hinge scraping itself painfully.


    An excited chirp burst from Balto as he yanked out the package meant for Ms. Fitzgerald and clutched it to his chest.


    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡±


    Balto¡¯s head snapped up and faced a man at the door of Four-One-Seven West Street. The man wore coveralls that had not a single smear of grease on them. The uniform was in mint condition but looked rather worn at the joints, like the man had worn them many times before. In his arms, cradled like a baby, was a long tube with some attached to it. Balto didn¡¯t need to have seen one to know what a shotgun was...or how dangerous they were. He looked at the man fearfully, ears flat and tail shaking violently. His body failed to move.


    His mouth failed to speak.


    His eyes fixated on the weapon.


    ¡°Answer,¡± the man commanded. ¡°Or I¡¯ll assume you¡¯re a thief.¡±


    ¡°I gave you this package by mistake yesterday,¡± Balto blurted out in one breath, adding, also in a single breath, ¡°I¡¯ve come to retrieve it and deliver it to the appropriate recipient.¡±


    The man stroked his beard with one hand while he put his free hand around the shotgun¡¯s handle, finger hovering above the trigger guard. The dragon stared at it more, unsure of what to do or say to the man anymore.


    But he spoke anyway, putting on as much false bravado as he could muster.


    ¡°I...I have a duty to¡­¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you ride in here with Lee earlier?¡± the man asked, cutting Balto off suddenly.


    Balto nodded fervently, mouth still open and mid sentence. The man spit loudly off the side of his porch and sneered at something Balto couldn¡¯t be sure about. It didn¡¯t feel directed at him, but the shotgun sure made it feel that way.


    The man snarled out a grunt and snapped, ¡°Get a move on. I don¡¯t want to find scale-shed in my lawn.¡± Without another word, the man retreated inside, taking his terrible weapon with him.


    Balto nearly fainted once the door shut. After the first couple of steps backwards, he spun around, stumbled, and staggered off the property, leaving Four-One-Seven West Street behind. The dragon sighed and didn¡¯t dare look back.


    Instead, he ran as fast as he could towards Four-Two-Seven West Street, handed the package to Ms. Fitzgerald, who looked more like her father than Balto thought was normal, and hurried off to Lee¡¯s.


    +++


    ¡°Yeah, that was Murdock. He¡¯s a mechanic, I think.¡± Lee poured Balto a small cup of tea after listening to Balto¡¯s story of the shotgun wielding man and his dreadful looking home. ¡°He moved in a few weeks ago. ¡°I think he wants to renovate the place. I can¡¯t be sure. We¡¯ve only talked in passing. He seemed nice enough.¡±


    ¡°He was really scary¡­¡±


    ¡°That was probably the shotgun.¡±


    Balto shrugged, dipping his tongue into the drink. He let out a contented sigh, felt a shiver run all the way down his body, and smiled into his cup.


    ¡°After that cup, are you ready to go home?¡±


    Balto looked off the porch, saw the height of the sun, and...almost answered with ¡°yes¡±. The dragon looked around Lee¡¯s beautiful lawn, felt the warmth of his cup in his paws...enjoyed the feeling of sunlight touching the parts of his back that usually had leather on them. He looked at the variety of flowers sprouting from every part of the yard.


    ¡°Does Washington look like this?¡± the dragon asked wistfully.


    Lee shrugged. ¡°I haven¡¯t been there in a long time. I¡¯m sure some people have gardens like this. I doubt entire yards though. This was specifically something my wife wanted to do.¡±


    There was another quiet sadness lingering between them, but Balto didn¡¯t let that deter him.


    ¡°Is...is Washington far away?¡± Balto asked. ¡°Do you think I could fly there on my next Sunday? I...I want to go there¡­I want to go...somewhere...anywhere¡­¡±


    Lee looked over Balto¡¯s longing expression and said, ¡°When I was eighteen, I ran away from home.¡± Balto gave the man a confused and worried look. ¡°My extended family was--and probably still is--extremely traditional and I just didn¡¯t want that life for myself. So...so I hopped on a train with only the clothes on my back and about fifteen dollars.¡±


    ¡°You rode a train?¡±


    Lee nodded. ¡°You can always find an open and empty train car if you wait for it to come by. It¡¯s how I made it out this far east. Jumping from one train to the next until I found a place I thought was nice enough to plant my roots and not just my family¡¯s.¡±


    The dragon looked at the ground blankly, lost in adventurous thoughts and all the worries that came with those thoughts.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°I can¡¯t leave my family though. They need me,¡± Balto muttered. ¡°Clifford needs me...Carville and Newman and¡­¡±


    Lee held up his hand to stop the dragon¡¯s speech. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to convince you to run away. It was one of the hardest things I¡¯ve ever done and I got lucky. I could have died or been kidnapped or any number of terrible things.¡± Lee placed a hand on Balto¡¯s shoulder and said, ¡°You¡¯ll find your way. It¡¯ll take time for you to figure it out, but you¡¯re young and have the time. You¡¯ll figure it out.¡±


    Lee snickered to himself before adding, ¡°Just like the real Balto did.¡±


    Balto the dragon smiled and felt his tail slap the porch happily.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m ready to go home now.¡±


    ¡°You sure? You can stay a little longer if you¡¯d like.¡±


    He nodded and gently set the empty cup down, unable to recall actually finishing it but remembering that he hadn¡¯t asked for milk. He contented himself to knowing he¡¯d ask the next time he came around.


    +++


    Lee needed several directions and some helpful guidance from his passenger to find his way to the estate. It was a confusing trip that made Lee admit his unfamiliarity with the area.


    ¡°Turn here,¡± Balto commanded, looking over the roof as Lee drove slower. The dragon had to look over the tops of fields to find familiar looking roofs and the occasional windmill that dotted the landscape, but once he spotted them he knew instantly where they were and which direction to head.


    Lee, trusting Balto¡¯s directions, turned down the road and saw it: Balto¡¯s home. Even if it hadn¡¯t been the only house for miles and miles, the happy dance Balto did at the sight of it told Lee all he needed to know. It was a brickwork mansion with aged and weathered columns of stone flanking the front entryway. The windows were glossy and perfectly transparent, showing the silk-like curtains behind them nicely. Security bushes lined the front of the house neatly, shielding the foundation from view while a wall of stone surrounded the estate neatly.


    ¡°You have a nice house,¡± Lee said. ¡°Your family has really prospered, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Balto replied beaming proudly. ¡°Father said he was really proud of buying this place. I was too young to remember where we lived before that.¡±


    Lee looked at the front gate impeding their entry and asked, ¡°So how do we get in?¡±


    The dragon shrugged, unseen and still above the roof. ¡°I usually fly over it.¡±


    Balto stumbled out of the truck and made his way to the gate, tugging on it loosely and inspecting the ironwork for a moment. The gate opened inward without much resistance, letting Balto wave for Lee to enter.


    ¡°I think I¡¯d better head home now,¡± the man said. ¡°I don¡¯t think your father will be happy that a stranger gave his son a ride home.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯ll be alright! Father knows who you are and he can meet you!¡± Balto waved his paw once more for Lee to follow. The man looked inward, sighed, and spun this steering wheel quickly. The dragon watched excitedly as Lee pulled into the driveway. The dragon rushed over to Lee and pranced around excitedly, unhindered by the subtle limp in his hind. ¡°I¡¯m so excited! I¡¯ve never had a friend over!¡±


    Lee looked worriedly at the dragon and muttered, ¡°That¡¯s...not¡­appropriate phrasing...¡±


    But Balto was hardly listening and was already rushing to the front door. Lee was slowly approaching by the time Balto was crying for one of his parents.


    The dragon ushered a woman out of the front door. She was cradling an infant tightly to her bosom.


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± the woman whispered, staring at Lee. ¡°I was expecting...another dragon¡­¡±


    Lee stared back. ¡°Me too.¡±


    ¡°Uhm...well...would...would you like to come inside, Mr...?¡±


    Balto nodded rapidly from behind his mother until Lee nodded in return, still wide-eyed and confused.


    ¡°Yes, yes, my name is Lee Watson. I lent a book to Balto yesterday and a string of events has led me here today.¡±


    The woman headed inside and Lee followed, flanked by Balto. She said, ¡°It sounds like a story. I love stories. Would you mind telling me while we wait for my husband?¡±


    The dragon slapped his tail on one of the living room sofas, gesturing for Lee to take a seat there. The man sat down, folded his hands together, and looked blankly around the room.


    ¡°Balto, would you be a dear and retrieve your father while I talk with your new friend? I think he is out back.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not¡­¡± Lee started but the woman held up a finger to her lips and gave him a knowing smile.


    The young drake nodded and bounced towards the back of the house, slithering his way down the hall, out the back door, and sprinting towards his shed. After dropping off his pouches and torn leather at the door to his shed, he found his father around the back, crouched low and drawing numbers into some of the wooden planks of his shed.


    ¡°Hello, Balto,¡± Father spoke, looking up at the sky. ¡°Is it time for you to be home? And what happened to your head?¡± Father reached towards the dragon, who quickly weaved out of reach on impulse. ¡°Stop it!¡± he snapped, lunging for one of Balto¡¯s horns and pulling him forward.


    ¡°Ow!¡± Balto shrieked, moving forward. ¡°I hit my head is all! I¡¯m okay!¡± The dragon wrenched his head and horn free from the man¡¯s grip and rubbed the horn gently. ¡°I have a friend I want you to meet.¡±


    ¡°A friend?¡±


    Balto nodded. ¡°Come on! He¡¯s inside!¡±


    Father gave Balto an apprehensive look and snarled, "Who gave you permission to have a guest over?"


    The dragon''s ears fell, as they had many times that day, and responded with a half-hearted, "No one¡­"


    Father glared at Balto a little longer before sighing. "I''m sorry, Balto, that was rather rude of me." As Father began to stand, Balto¡¯s ears perked back upright and he listened with giddy excitement as his father continued, ¡°Let¡¯s go meet your new friend!¡±


    Inside, after Balto spent the short walk from his shed to the house talking rapidly about trying tea and wanting to visit the land of ¡°Washerton¡±, Father came face-to-face with Lee Watson. Balto leapt towards Lee and announced excited, ¡°Father, this is Mr. Lee Watson. He gave me a ride after I hurt my leg and he lent me that book and let me try tea and¡­¡± Balto silenced himself before he mentioned the arrest.


    Lee stood up with his hand outstretched for a shake.


    But Father squinted at Lee.


    Balto let the excitement of introductions get the better of him, otherwise he might have noticed Father¡¯s expression towards Lee. He would have recognized the anger in his father¡¯s eyes.


    He would have seen what Lee saw as he met the patriarch¡¯s gaze and what made him lower the hand held out.


    ¡°So you helped my dragon home?¡± Father asked slowly, seating himself in his usual chair.


    ¡°Yes, sir, I did¡­¡± Lee replied, blankly looking into the man¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°And gave him that book of monsters and witchcraft and demons¡­¡±


    Balto interjected suddenly with a bouncy hop in the middle of the living room. It shook the room but little Leslie giggled and held a littler hand towards the dragon. Balto look at his father, eyes beaming, ¡°Yeah! And warriors too! Warriors and hobbits and cloaked monsters chasing them!¡± The dragon spread his wings slightly to show some form of intimidation. ¡°And they ride on horses blacker than night and were kings! Kings corrupted by the power of¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± Father snapped, not even bothering to look at him. The young drake made a little whimper noise. ¡°Would you mind retrieving the book for me? I¡¯d like to look at it.¡±


    The dragon¡¯s momentary lapse in excitement from the sharp interruption from his father returned in full. Exuberated, Balto dashed out of the living room once again, galloping to his shed as fast as he could.


    The shed door whipped open faster than it ever had before, the rusty hinges angrily groaning. Balto made a single leap from the entrance to his nest, picked the book up with his tail, and leapt back out. He slid on some grass and soil and some of the tattered leather of his harness, but didn¡¯t let that slow him down much. The dragon returned to the living room with a smear of grass coloring under his chin and on a chest scute.


    Balto looked around frantically for Lee but found that the living room was empty with the exception of himself and Father, who stood near the front window looking out.


    ¡°Where¡¯s...where¡¯d Lee go?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to be talking to that man anymore,¡± Father said, pulling away from the window and fully shutting the curtain.


    ¡°But...but why?¡±


    ¡°Because I said so!¡± Father shouted impatiently. ¡°Give me the book!¡±


    Balto took the book from his tail and clutched it to his chest.


    ¡°Do as I say, dragon¡­¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡± he whimpered, defiant but scared.


    ¡°Drop it!¡±


    Balto dropped the book at his feet, lurched sideways, and hid behind the couch.


    ¡°This Godless thing is not allowed in my house,¡± Father snarled, taking the book off the floor.


    ¡°Please,¡± Balto begged, looking over the top of the couch. Leslie cried from somewhere in the house. Balto¡¯s ears thundered and his blood boiled. He watched on as his father opened the book and grabbed a handful of pages. The man stared at Balto as he tore them from their binding. ¡°No!¡± the dragon gasped.


    ¡°These are the words of a Godless man writing for Godless people¡­given to you by a Godless man¡­¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Balto muttered, watching helplessly as Father ripped more pages out in his show of power. Rage burned in the dragon¡¯s chest. It threatened to set him ablaze.


    ¡°I¡¯ve fought men like him before and they¡¯re nothing but rapists and commies!¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Balto shouted back, rising from behind the couch.


    Father dropped the book at his feet, pages fluttering to the floor in shredded beige spirals. The sound it made as it hit the floor deafened both the dragon and himself. The man stepped backwards quickly as the young drake moved to catch the fragments, mumbling to himself about needing to fix it and finish it.


    The dragon didn¡¯t bother looking at his father until each ripped page was collected and safely tucked away where they had been torn free, but he only gave the man a passing glance.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you raise your¡­!¡± Father started but Balto was already racing to the kitchen and scrambling through drawers until he found Scotch tape. The dragon set himself to putting the pages back together again, careful not to read anything he hadn¡¯t yet. ¡°Listen to me!¡±


    But Balto was in a deaf frenzy, unable to listen. He had to fix the book, if not for himself then for Lee. It was his after all, not Balto¡¯s and especially not Father¡¯s.


    Father was on Balto before even the first page was finished.


    Balto screamed in agony as his horn was wrenched this way and that, twisting his head in all kinds of uncomfortable directions, until he obeyed the pulling that came with it.


    ¡°You don¡¯t ignore me dragon!¡± the man screamed.


    ¡°Ow, ow! I¡¯m sorry!¡±


    ¡°You weren¡¯t sorry when you shouted at me! Or when you ignored me!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sor...EEP!!¡±


    Father had brought his fist up, ready to strike the dragon in his rage. Balto¡¯s wing covered his head quickly, but the blow never came down. He looked up and saw Father standing over him triumphantly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ever forget,¡± Father sneered, ¡°that I own you. Don¡¯t you ever ignore me when I give you a direct order. Understand?¡±


    Balto nodded fervently.


    ¡°Speak dragon!¡±


    ¡°I understand, sir!¡±


    ¡°Who owns you?!¡±


    ¡°You do!¡±


    ¡°WHO OWNS YOU?!!¡± He feigned another strike that made the young drake flinch and clenched his eyes shut.


    ¡°You do, sir! You own me!¡± Balto shriveled into himself, feeling much smaller than he had ever felt when being attacked by the West brothers.


    Father snatched the book off the counter and all of the partially taped shreds of paper and tossed them into the nearby trashcan.


    ¡°If I ever see that book on my property again or being read by my property, I will make sure you never fly again. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir, I understand, sir.¡±


    Balto kept his eyes clenched.


    Father left the cowering dragon behind, retreating up to his office. The dragon looked around for a moment until he was certain that his father wasn''t coming back. He crawled on his belly to the trashcan and, as quietly as he could, retrieved the corpse of the book and all of its torn out pages. Balto snuck out of the house quickly, brought his harness into the shed, and replaced his book of stamps in the rafters with Lee''s book of monsters and magic, putting his stamp collection on his workbench with the rest of the days mail.


    Balto looked outside towards the house, specifically at Father''s bedroom window. Mother moved back and forth with Leslie in her arms. The dragon mewled to himself, desiring any kind of affection, but shut the door to his shed anyway.

 Chapter 6

    VI


    The dragon washed himself off with a hose before he left again, shivering under the cold rushing water. The water was colder, more biting and bitter than usual. Afterwards, he had spent most of his break looking through his stamps for comfort, but finding it more and more difficult to appreciate them.


    There was something tainted about them. They did not ease his anguish like they usually did. If anything, looking at the oldest ones exacerbated his feelings.


    They weren''t really his stamps...were they? They didn''t feel like it.


    Behind his shed, hidden from the windows overlooking the rear of the house, the dragon sat under the sun for a moment longer than he should have, belly exposed and wings extended in both directions. He basked in the glorious warmth, even letting himself smile a little through his sadness.


    Balto, feeling the ache and throbbing pain in his hind, threw on his harness, tying the loose ends around his belly. As he weighed himself down with pouches of letters and other assorted mail, Balto felt his heart sink farther and farther in his chest.


    He felt so heavy.


    He felt so very heavy.


    The dragon flew to Humbleton, eager to be done with his route for the day.


    +++


    Balto spiraled around and around in the air, feeling the breeze push against his chest and face pleasantly.


    He wasn¡¯t smiling though.


    He still felt so very heavy even without the weight of a town¡¯s worth of mail¡­without the weight of his responsibilities¡­


    That¡¯s poginit...no...poignant...yeah...


    The dragon looked all around the endless farmland, finding it harder and harder to breathe the longer he soared aimlessly. He wasn¡¯t ready to return home. He just wanted to keep flying.


    He wanted to keep his wings spread and dart through the sky and rise towards the clouds.


    Balto touched his belly, feeling the two ends of his harness dangling from the constricting knot they made.


    ¡°No¡­¡± Balto whispered to himself.


    He unbound himself and let the harness plummet to the ground, flying into a random direction, sun against his fully exposed back nicely.


    And he smiled¡­


    +++


    Finding himself outside of Clifford once more, Balto watched a train rumble by at a safe distance. It wasn¡¯t nearly as loud this time, but he wasn¡¯t willing to take that chance. He looked at the huge metal carriages zoom past, noticing someone sitting inside an open carriage. He waved a tail at the vagrant, but they didn¡¯t respond. They probably didn¡¯t see him. They were a nice distance away and were moving on a train.


    The dragon looked on, thinking back to Lee¡¯s description of Washington. He let his imagination run wild for a few moments before a nearby car horn alerted him to the train¡¯s disappearance and his blocking of the road. He jumped out of the way and let the angry driver pass unimpeded.


    After spending a few more minutes reflecting, the dragon looked towards Clifford, or rather the road that led there. He took a single step forward, but quickly retracted it, spinning around and heading the opposite direction.


    He¡¯ll be so mad at me if I tell him¡­


    Balto, limping on his hind again, jumped as high as he would to start flying again. He wobbled for a few seconds in the air, nearly clipping his paws on a passing vehicle. Air caught him, though, and the dragon was drifting higher and higher with each passing moment, with each beat of his wings.


    He decided it was time to head home, and gave himself a sigh as he looked back at the distant Clifford, guilt inching its way to his heart.


    But he thought of Washington and Lee¡¯s garden-yard full of flowers.


    The dragon went home smiling.


    +++


    It was still early when Balto returned home. The sun hadn¡¯t even touched the horizon yet. Mrs. Garc¨ªa worked on trimming the already perfect bushes out front, and waved up at the dragon as he flew overhead.


    The dragon landed and made his way back to his shed, only to be called to by the woman. He looked her way and walked towards her slowly, trying his best to hide his limp.


    ¡°Oh, dear, what happened to you?¡± she asked, noticing the pained expression he made well before he was able to mask it.


    He looked at her sadly, shrugged, and said, ¡°I...I got into a fight¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh no!¡± she mumbled, hugging his head against her chest. He let out a quiet purr and let himself sink into her. ¡°Was it those West boys? We should tell your father¡­¡±


    Balto ripped himself away, snorting at the thought of telling his father anything.


    ¡°I took care of it,¡± Balto lied, knowing nothing was going to change most likely. ¡°They won¡¯t bother me anymore,¡± he lied again. He felt dirty and gross lying straight to Mrs. Garc¨ªa¡¯s face, but he did not want her telling his father anything. ¡°I don¡¯t want Father cleaning up my messes anymore.¡±


    The dragon¡¯s eyes darted up to the windows above them, catching a glare, not from Father, but from Harry in his bedroom. Balto stared back until he left the window.


    ¡°Would you like a sandwich, mi peque?o diablo?¡±


    Balto nodded slowly. ¡°I didn¡¯t eat lunch.¡±


    ¡°Peanut butter?¡± she asked.


    The dragon nodded and asked, ¡°Do you know how to make tea?¡±


    +++


    ¡°...and then they met Strider! He was brooding and scary and intimidating but Gandalf had sent a letter from three months--three months!--before and told him that he was a good man and could be trusted.¡± Balto dipped his tongue into his tea, bit off some more sandwich, and swallowed more tea. ¡°They¡¯re attacked by the Black Riders again and have to flee deeper and deeper into the woods¡­¡±


    ¡°This little story of yours is full of surprises,¡± Mrs. Garc¨ªa said as she went about her kitchen chores and setting things out for Mother¡¯s dinner. ¡°Where¡¯d you hear it?¡±


    ¡°Mr. Watson...oh, um...he¡¯s someone I deliver mail to. He let me try tea for the first time¡± --gesturing with his cup happily-- ¡°and let me borrow his book.¡± This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "Well, he sounds rather kind¡­"


    "He is...but Father...he doesn''t like Lee. I don''t know why; he didn''t even let him stay for very long and...and ripped up his book and..." The dragon sighed.


    "Oh, I heard from Harry about a man being here. That was probably him, huh?"


    Balto shrugged and finished his late lunch.


    "Now I have¡­" Balto paused and listened for any sign of Father moving or listening in. "I kept it and want to fix it." He looked at the scotch tape still on the counter. "I want to know what happens to Strider and the hobbits."


    Mrs. Garc¨ªa nodded, zipped her lips with a little sound, and said, "I won''t tell anyone, mi peque?o diablo."


    Balto smiled, looking into his empty cup. ¡°Can I have some more?¡±


    +++


    Moonlight and star shine settled kindly over Balto¡¯s shed, and a chilling wind moved through the rural countryside. The dragon pulled a thin blanket over his back and kept reading through the tattered pages, careful not to damage them further. He only had so much tape left with most of it strung up and scattered all over his shed in useless, torn strips.


    Claws made tape difficult.


    Balto¡¯s eyes moved along each line slowly, heart racing with each passing word, little noises of excitement reaching out of him. His tail twitched behind him. He breathed nervously. His paws kept close, curled to his chest as his head leaned over to read. The dragon shuddered as another breeze made its way through.


    He yawned sleepily, rubbing one of his eyes.


    Balto, ripping himself away from the Fellowship, stretched pleasantly, laid back down, and continued reading.


    +++


    "Hey, look who it is!"


    He exclaimed excitedly, tiny wings flailing behind him, flapping in Mom''s face. Dad came over to him, nuzzled him nicely, and placed a little box in front of him.


    "Happy birthday, son."


    He played with the box more than the toy inside and he could never be happier.


    +++


    ¡°Oh no!¡± Balto shouted, stirring himself out of a fantastic dream of elven landscapes and dwarven metallurgy and a battle against a monster made of fire and brimstone. The heat of his shed had become stuffy and unforgiving and made the dragon panicky. Despite the exhaustion he still felt, Balto lurched out of his nest, shoved through the door, and stared up into the sky, finding the sun high in the sky.


    Noon.


    ¡°Oh no no no no no no¡­¡±


    He spun back and quickly threw his deliveries together into his only spare harness, a much smaller one from his first days delivering. Buckling it painfully tight around his belly, he ignored the grumbling hunger there and was in the sky moments later, soaring out of his flight balcony hungry and tired and so...so very heavy¡­


    +++


    Balto arrived at Carville faster than he ever had before. The flight balcony groaned under his sudden weight and subsequent rolling when he couldn¡¯t stick the landing. He grunted from the pain in his hind leg, but rushed down the stairs anyway, hurrying off towards...somewhere¡­


    Balto slowed down and began frantically sorting through all of his carried letters, looking for addresses in Carville. He put them all together and raced towards the closest house, hardly waiting for Mrs. Kyle to speak to him. He apologized to her and ran off to the next house...then the next, sprinting as fast as his tired body could carry him.


    Junior Bunsen was sitting on his front porch when Balto arrived with a letter directly addressed to him. Balto galloped and came to a slide just at their yard, shoving the envelope into their mailbox.


    ¡°Hey, dragon!¡± Junior called. ¡°Dad! He¡¯s here!¡±


    ¡°Sorry! I¡¯m late! I¡¯ve gotta go!¡± Balto was already rushing down the street by the time Mr. Bunsen had come outside waving a piece of paper.


    Balto stopped by Ms. Jackson¡¯s next and Mr. and Mrs. Herrington after that. Ms. Jackson only nodded to the dragon but Mr. Herrington stopped Balto dead in his tracks as he came sprinting down the sidewalk, limp beginning to form.


    ¡°Stop right there, dragon,¡± Mr. Herrington commanded, standing in Balto¡¯s path with his hand out like he was stopping traffic.


    Balto slid to a stop, claws scraping along the pavement and leaving white lines along their paths.


    ¡°Here you go!¡± Balto jumped to attention, withdrawing the Herrington¡¯s mail and pressing it against Mr. Herrington¡¯s open palm.


    ¡°You can¡¯t be running around like that,¡± Mr. Herrington snapped, wrapping his fingers tightly around his mail. ¡°You¡¯re scaring people.¡±


    Balto cocked his head sideways. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. I¡¯m late; I have to run.¡± The dragon looked around, seeing no one else on the street at all. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir, but I have to go.¡±


    The dragon moved around the man, taking the first step into a forward run.


    Mr. Herrington¡¯s hand wrapped around one of Balto¡¯s horns just as he was speeding up, but the man¡¯s strength was fueled by anger, sending Balto¡¯s rear half forward while his front half and head were pulled backwards.


    The dragon was already yelping when he was brought to the ground.


    ¡°Barry! Let the poor thing go!¡± Mrs. Herrington shouted and not a moment later did Mr. Herrington let the dragon go.


    The dragon was already curled up, covering his head with a wing and sobbing from fear. Mrs. Herrington came up beside him, snapped at her husband angrily, and touched the dragon¡¯s protecting wing¡­


    ...but Balto¡¯s fear was already controlling. He yelped and jumped away, crashing into a nearby trashcan and parked car, fleeing from the house with tears streaming backwards off his head.


    Balto scrambled through the streets of Carville until he stumbled up the flight balcony stairs and sent himself skyward once more, flying away from the little town.


    +++


    It was too much.


    He felt so heavy...so heavy all the time¡­


    So tired all the time.


    He wasn''t sure when he had taken it off, but Balto flew easily over fields of crop, dangling his deliveries in his paws.


    Balto just wanted to fly without a harness for a little bit, let the parts of his back covered with it feel the sun some more.


    The dragon was almost smiling...


    He wasn¡¯t sure if it was because the strength in his paws were giving out from exhaustion, or maybe it was the wind yanking it away, but the harness dropped, along with all or its contents.


    With a shrill cry, he plummeted after it with a shriek.


    +++


    "Mommy loves you."


    "Daddy loves you too. We''ll be back soon."


    He looked at them before chirping sadly and burrowing into a mound of blankets.


    "We''ll be right back."


    +++


    The young dragon lay there for a long while, feeling the prickly cobs of corn under his wings poke him all over.


    Something stung his eyes, wetted his face.


    He looked up at some clouds passing over his recess in the field. He made a few shapes in them while his mind finally caught up to his body.


    Balto let out an anguished scream from the pain in his hind and ribs. He could move every part of him still, luckily, but Balto could not move his hind leg without the most intense pain he¡¯d ever felt burn at his nerves. He seethed, rolled onto his front, and picked himself up carefully, legs wobbling from equal parts adrenaline and exhaustion.


    He cursed himself repeatedly, grumbling to himself about staying up so late.


    ¡°Stupid...stupid stupid dragon...that¡¯s why they look at you like that...because you¡¯re just stupid¡­stupid stupid stupid¡­¡±


    He sobbed quietly in delirium. His mind ran wild, putting him back home where it was safe.


    "Mommy!" he shouted, anguish like he''d never felt inching into each breath. "Mom!"


    No one was there. He realized after a few more minutes of crying for his mother. He looked around weakly, finding his paw tangled up in the harness.


    Balto, slinging the harness over his back, snuck his way out of the cornfield and onto a gravel road leading directly into Newman. He limped, finding himself missing moments of time as he went. He made it several blocks in the blink of an eye. The walk to the post office was both loud and quiet all at once. So many noises were outside of Balto¡¯s immediate perception, swallowed by the silence of lost time...but they were there. He pressed himself against the glass door of the post office, pushed in with his weight, and promptly collapsed just inside the door, sobbing¡­


    ¡°Help¡­¡± he mouthed, no words escaping. Breathing was getting harder and harder. ¡°Help me¡­¡±


    The dragon cried.

 Chapter 7

    VII


    Lee arrived within the hour after receiving a panicked phone call from a lady inside the Newman Post Office. When he arrived, he found Balto sleeping peacefully in the farthest corner, dirtier and bloodier and when he had left him. There was even a little trail of blood specks leading to the dragon.


    ¡°Mr. Watson?¡± a voice said from the counter.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Lee asked the woman at the front counter. At least it wasn¡¯t the old man this time. He might¡¯ve let the poor dragon suffer a little longer.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she answered with a shrug. ¡°He came in, said ¡®help¡¯, and fell asleep. I gave him some water and he told me to call this number and he went over there and fell asleep again. I hope he¡¯s okay. Balto¡¯s such a good boy.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not a dog,¡± Lee snapped quietly, showing her a discomforting grimace, and made his way to Balto. Kneeling down and touching the dragon¡¯s head lightly, he whispered, ¡°Wake¡­¡±


    The dragon flailed with all of his limbs, scratching Lee¡¯s leg through his jeans and smacking him in the head with his tail a few times until the man grabbed the dragon¡¯s front paws and shouted, ¡°Balto!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯m sorry!¡± The dragon¡¯s whole body went limp. His ears flattened and squeezed his eyes shut.


    The man repeated the dragon¡¯s name again, this time quieter and letting go of his forearms. Balto pulled all of his paws closer and protected his head again, trembling.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± he mumbled. ¡°I¡¯m late...I¡¯m late...I¡¯m sorry¡­¡±


    ¡°Balto, calm down,¡± Lee started, ¡°it¡¯s just me here. It¡¯s just Lee.¡±


    The dragon hyperventilated for a moment before lowering his wing to look at the man.


    ¡°I¡¯m...I¡¯m late...I¡¯m sorry...Dad tore it up...and now I¡¯m late and I slept too much but I¡¯m still so tired and I¡¯m hungry and tired and I dropped them and I fell and I¡¯m just so tired!¡±


    ¡°Shhshhshh¡­¡± Lee moved around and cradled the dragon¡¯s head in his lap, rubbing behind his ears and horns kindly. Balto¡¯s breathing finally stabilized into labored heaving and then finally an affectionate purr. His heart raced, pounding so hard Lee felt it on his leg. ¡°I know. I know you are. It¡¯ll be okay. Let¡¯s get off the floor, give this nice lady their mail, and take you home¡­¡±


    Balto¡¯s head lurched up and he shook it repeatedly, feeling dizzy the whole time. He put his head back down, rubbing the sides of his head with a pained squint. ¡°No, no, no...Father will know! He¡¯ll know I was late and he¡¯ll figure out why I was late and he¡¯ll take your book away again!¡±


    ¡°Balto...I can get another one for you, but you¡¯re hurt. Your back is bleeding. Your leg might be broken. You¡¯re dirty.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to talk to you though!¡± Balto¡¯s head almost came back up, but Lee kept him down.


    ¡°Relax, Balto. We can finish the route this time too and when you get home, I¡¯ll drop you off at the gate. You can say a good samaritan helped you home after you fell. You don¡¯t have to tell them anything about me. I¡¯m sure your father won¡¯t mind that you were late if he finds out you were injured while flying.¡±


    He didn¡¯t seem concerned yesterday at all¡­


    Balto nodded. ¡°Can...can I sleep in your truck?¡±


    Lee smirked and nodded. ¡°Yes, you can sleep in my truck. Go get in while I clean up this blood.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m...I¡¯m really sorry¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure the lady knows that you¡¯re sorry.¡±


    Balto nodded and went to Lee¡¯s truck outside,, scrambled upwards, collapsed in the bed, and immediately fell asleep despite the uncomfortable grooves beneath him.


    +++


    "Why are you crying?"


    "I miss my mom and dad..."


    The man ran a hand over his head and behind an ear.


    "Why don''t you come home with me? You can meet my wife and kids. They''re only a little older than you. Susie''s always liked dragons."


    He looked at the man, nodded, and asked, "Can I leave a note for my mom...in case she comes back?"


    "Of course¡­"


    +++


    Balto was stumbling towards the front gate leading home when a car pulled up to the gate hurriedly, nearly running into him. After the road dust cleared, Balto recognized Father¡¯s car and the same man climbing out. He rubbed his eyes as he leaned on his open door.


    ¡°Get in,¡± Father demanded. ¡°And don¡¯t scratch up my seats.¡± Balto looked hesitantly at the car for a moment before rushing over to the passenger side door. As he tried to pull the handle, the door locked and Father snapped, ¡°Backseat!¡±


    The dragon obeyed and squeezed into the backseat.


    ¡°Where...where are we going?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t talk.¡±


    And so he didn¡¯t. The dragon, wedged awkwardly between the front seats and the rear seats, trying his best not to touch either with his claws. Remaining quietly stalwart, he occasionally looked into the rearview mirror to look at Father¡¯s greying eyes. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    They sped through gravelly back roads and between towns. Balto watched the clock in the radio change over the course of an hour-long drive. He did not recognize anything around them by the time they stopped, though it was familiar simply because of the corn and wheat farmland. Otherwise, it was a foreign place  to him.


    It made the young dragon uneasy.


    ¡°Where...where are we?¡±


    Father did not answer. He climbed out and said as he went towards the trunk, ¡°Get out of the car.¡±


    Balto did as he was told. Father, leaving the trunk open, brought a chain of metal links with large circles at both ends. He pulled the chain through one of the circles, making another circle out of the chain.


    Father tossed it down at Balto¡¯s feet and he said, ¡°Put it on.¡± The man reached into his pocket for nothing in particular and lit the cigar in his mouth with a match, leaning casually against his car.


    The dragon looked at it curiously before putting it around one of his forelegs and looking up at his father hopefully...anxiously.


    The man smirked, dropped some ash to the ground, and said, ¡°Let me help.¡±


    Balto felt the edge of his nervousness ease with Father¡¯s voice. It was sincere and loving and careful, and the way Father came to Balto¡¯s front, affectionately rubbing behind his horns and ear...the dragon felt...better¡­


    ¡°Like this,¡± Father said, taking the chain from Balto¡­


    Balto flinched backwards when the circle was heading towards his snout. He made a confused noise, but Father simply said, ¡°Trust me, Balto. It won¡¯t hurt, I promise.¡±


    The dragon made the same noise, but brought his head back down, letting Father put the chain over his head.


    ¡°But my horns¡­¡± Balto started, but the circle of metal was already past them. It was an incredibly tight fit, especially when it passed over his horns. There was no way he was taking it off alone. ¡°How will I take it off?¡± He tugged on the smaller metal ring that was unable to pass through its twin. There was hardly any space between the chain and his neck.


    ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± Father said, face concealed in shadow with his back to the sun. He touched Balto¡¯s face kindly before returning to the trunk. Balto felt difficulty breathing with the metal chain touching his neck.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand¡­¡± Balto tugged a little harder and felt the chain constrict around his throat harshly, pinching his scales between the links and cutting off the air to his lung. The dragon hissed at the feeling and grabbed the chain in a panic, pulling at it, yanking it, growling at it.


    Father slammed the trunk shut, looked over at the sun, and said, ¡°Can¡¯t breathe very well, huh?¡±


    Balto shook his head. ¡°Please help me take it off.¡±


    The dragon looked at Father¡¯s hand and saw something square, but the glare of the sun¡¯s light made it impossible to see.


    ¡°I got several phone calls today,¡± he said coolly. ¡°First, a man named Bunsen...he said something about you scratching his truck.¡±


    ¡°I helped him get home,¡± Balto retorted. ¡°He asked me to¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s billing me a hundred dollars for the damages. Then I get a call from some negro named Barrett saying you were running around scarin¡¯ people.¡± Father came a little closer.


    ¡°I...I didn¡¯t mean too...I was in a hurry¡­¡±


    ¡°None of that really means a whole lot to me, Balto. Bunsen isn''t getting a penny out of me and I couldn''t care less if that nigger''s scared of you.¡±


    The dragon felt sweet relief ease his trembling legs.


    ¡°What I care about is that those calls came from Carville...at one in the afternoon.¡± Father stepped forward again, invading Balto¡¯s space and forcing the dragon backwards awkwardly, sending him onto his back. ¡°And another call from the Newman Post Office...around two o¡¯clock¡­¡±


    ¡°Dad...I...I fell...I fell when I was fly¡­¡±


    Father held up his hand, spit out his cigar end, and stomped on it very close to Balto¡¯s hind leg. He flinched the leg away but Father quickly put his foot on the dragon¡¯s tail instead as it motioned back and forth. Balto yelped.


    ¡°Harry found the book. You kept it...pulled it out of the trashcan like a fuckin¡¯ nigger and taped it back up. Did I fuckin¡¯ say you could keep it?¡±


    ¡°Dad...I...I just¡­¡±


    ¡°Stop calling me that,¡± the man snarled. ¡°I¡¯m not your father. My wife is not your mother. I¡¯m your owner. I own you. You are property. I feed you. I house you. I have fed you and homed you your entire little life! And all you have ever had to do is deliver some fuckin¡¯ mail for us on time. That''s all." Father put pressure onto Balto''s tail, making the dragon cry painfully. "You¡¯ve proven how ungrateful you really are. Sleeping in all the time. Back-talking me. Disobeying me. I¡¯ve given you enough leeway.¡±


    ¡°Father¡­¡±


    ¡°My name is George! George Humphrey!! You are to call me Mr. Humphrey!! I AM NOT YOUR FATHER!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! YOU ARE A PET, OR ARE YOU JUST ANOTHER STUPID MONGREL LIZARD THAT SHOULD BE PUT DOWN?!¡±


    Balto trembled beneath the man and nodded, ¡°I...I understand!¡±


    ¡°What was that?!¡±


    ¡°I understand, Mr. Humphrey, sir!¡±


    "WHAT ARE YOU?!"


    "I am a pet!"


    ¡°Good boy!¡± The man spit onto Balto¡¯s snout, pushed on his tail one last time, and stepped away from the dragon, keeping his eyes on him the whole time. ¡°From now on, when you leave my property, you will wear a star on your collar. It will have our address and our phone number. I¡¯ve told local police stations to bring you home if you ever try to leave without it.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± Balto started.


    ¡°Shut up. You will speak only when given permission. You will eat when we say you can, read what I say you can, and with the collar, you will only breathe when I let you.¡± Father struck a new match and held it under the rectangle he had been holding.


    When it caught fire so quickly, the dragon knew.


    ¡°No!¡± he screamed, leaping forward to grab the book from Father¡¯s hand. The man side stepped easily, but dropped the book and struck the dragon in the head with his hand.


    Balto slid along the ground, dazed by the blow, and as he looked around confusedly, he felt something sharp hit him in the ribs. A kick.


    Then another¡­


    ...and another¡­


    ¡°Dad, please¡­¡± he coughed, curling up.


    ¡°I¡¯M! NOT! YOUR! FUCKING! FATHER!!¡± The man grabbed the loose ring and choked the dragon with it. Balto gasped and flailed and choked. His claw caught on a pant leg, ripping it open.


    Instinctively, Balto covered his head with his wing, but Father...Mr. Humphrey yanked it aside and punched the dragon in the head.


    Only once¡­


    ...but Balto mewled obediently...fearfully¡­


    ...and watched helplessly as Lee¡¯s book burned to ash.


    ¡°If you ever disobey me again, I will hang you by that fucking collar.¡±


    Balto watched helplessly...

 Chapter 8

    VIII


    Balto did not sleep.


    He did not look at his stamps to calm himself.


    He didn''t bother asking about dinner.


    The dragon paced around his shed for hours, seething and mumbling to himself. He scavenged around inside for leftover tools to cut the chain off, but the place had been cleaned out before Balto had ever settled in.


    When night washed over, Balto made his way quietly around the property, sneaking inside and carefully shutting the door so it made no noise. He eyed the insides of kitchen drawers, attempting to use a pair of flimsy, weak scissors until they snapped loudly at the axis.


    Balto tensed up, heart-stopped and completely frozen. Only his eyes moved. He looked towards the front of the house, through the door leading into the room. There wasn''t a sound anywhere in the house, except for the creaking of pipes and the silent noises rodents made under the floorboards.


    His stomach made a noise and it hurt. The dragon looked around the counter, thinking about what they had for dinner. Leftover spaghetti, maybe? Or maybe some chicken?


    No! I have to get this off!


    The young drake returned to his search, tossing the broken scissors on the counter and looked under the sink. He chirped quietly as he grabbed an odd-looking pair of scissors--strong and entirely made out of metal--from a bag of tools. They were just sitting there, waiting for him.


    "What are you doing?"


    Balto yelped, dropping the scissors to the floor. It clattered loudly and it made the dragon''s eyes dart upwards, waiting to hear Mr. Humphrey stir from his sleep. When nothing happened, the dragon snatched the scissors back up and stared at Harry, dressed in his polka dot pajamas, who stood in the doorway to the TV room.


    "H...hi¡­" Balto mumbled, pressing the tool tightly to his chest.


    Oh no oh no oh no oh no...


    Harry looked at Balto for a few moments, tired eyes slowly becoming lucid and aware. He stared at the tool in Balto''s paw, nodded to himself with a smirk, and finally broke the silence born between them.


    "Got stuck in a chain?"


    Balto hesitated, but nodded. Harry wobbled over, still tired, and held out his hand to take the tool.


    "I have something that''ll do better than that."


    I don''t believe you...


    "I...I thought you didn''t like me?" Balto held the scissors tighter still.


    Harry rolled his eyes, smirking. "I don''t hate you. I tease you. We are brothers, right? I''m just bad bein'' nice, I guess." He gestured with his hand again. He gave Balto a sincere-looking smile, small on both sides and a pair of empathetic eyes.


    Brothers...he''s never called me that¡­


    Even Susie...she never called me "brother"...


    It started with a faint smile and a moment of blankly looking up at Harry. The dragon''s heart fluttered and he wanted to cry. He beamed a joyous grin and almost threw the odd-looking scissors into his brother''s hand.


    "Please hurry," Balto mumbled as Harry quietly made his way back towards the stairs.


    Harry held a finger to his lips and the dragon put an entire paw to his snout in apology. The young man went upstairs, not a sound to be heard from him. Balto paced uneasily, glaring up at the ceiling listening for anything...any movement, any noise at all.


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ...


    It took Balto longer to realize that Harry wasn''t coming back than it did to realize he hadn''t made a single sound since returning to his room. Balto had thought it odd, but convinced himself briefly that his brother was simply being extra quiet¡­


    ...but Harold Humphrey did not return to help him.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ...and Balto felt so very cold when he knew that.


    Balto sat on the kitchen floor...defeated...deflated...cold and so very alone.


    He cried.


    +++


    Mrs. Garc¨ªa made her way down the gravel driveway towards the Humphrey home. It was early morning and the world was still tinted blue. The grass was dewy and she was careful not to step in it and track grassy stains inside.


    Looking at the front door, she saw Mr. Humphrey appear, gesturing for her to speak with him. She smiled at her employer and said, "A bit early for you, wouldn''t you say?"


    He did not smile. He never smiled at her, even when she caught him staring at her.


    It never occurred to her that maybe he was making sure she wasn''t stealing anything.


    "Do not remove Balto''s collar."


    She tilted her head and asked, "Excuse me, sir?"


    "He has a collar now. Do not take it off him. Understand?"


    Mrs. Garc¨ªa knew better than to argue with Mr. Humphrey. She simply nodded.


    "I want you to say it."


    Gritting her teeth, she whispered, "I will not remove Balto''s collar."


    The man did not say another word as he moved from the doorway to let her in.


    "What would you like for breakfast, sir?"


    "Nothing. I need you to finish trimming the bushes out front. Make sure they are perfect. I''m having a party later tonight and Sal''s coming over."


    Mrs. Garc¨ªa had no idea who Sal was. The name had never escaped Mr. Humphrey''s mouth before, at least in front of her.  She nodded anyway. She was just the maid, and she needed the job. Who was she to argue how to treat his property.


    The woman slipped into her gardening attire, stored near the backdoor, and looked out the door, sparing a glance towards Balto''s shed.


    "Oh good lord!" she exclaimed, rushing out the door to save the dragon.


    Balto wedged a piece of metal from the siding of his shed into the many metal links of his collar, hoping to break one with leverage. Instead, he managed to get it caught in multiple links as well as the choker ring, strangling himself.


    Mrs. Garc¨ªa came to his aid as he writhed and gasped and pulled. A jagged edge in the metal was caught, preventing its removal. Balto stared up at her for a moment before his head went limp and he passed out. The woman deftly unsnagged the metal and yanked it free.


    Balto jerked upward, gasping and clutching his throat. He sobbed uncontrollably, eyes red with weariness. The woman soothed him with a kind rub behind his ear, but he recoiled away from her, crawling away from her. He gave her a terrified look, mewling like a child.


    "Please help me¡­" he muttered.


    She looked at him, hand still clutching the metal. All she could do was shake her head.


    "Please!" he begged, crawling a little closer.


    "You know I can''t. Your father¡­"


    His eyes widened and ears flattened. He snapped his gaze towards the house before shaking his head at her violently, almost manically.


    "Don''t call him that!" he whispered, rubbing his side. "He...he''s not my father¡­"


    "Oh come now. Having a collar isn''t the end of the world. He''s still your papa and you should show him¡­"


    Balto growled, scaring her. She had never heard Balto growl before. She took a step back from him.


    "He doesn''t care about me. He is not my father. My dad gave me big meatballs and a box to play in. Mr. Humphrey¡­" Balto sneered at the name but kept his voice down. "He...he...he just uses me! ''I feed you. I house you. You''re a dumb lizard!'' No, I''m not!" His voice rang loudly in the open air.


    The dragon shrank in place, rage-shaking claws digging into the dirt. He felt himself about to cry even before the words escaped his snout.


    "Why doesn''t he love me? I''m a good boy, right? Everyone says that I am...but...but¡­" He touched his bruised face with his tail. Mrs. Garc¨ªa watched as the dragon started to weep more. "Why did he have to hit me? I''m not a pet. Why would he call me that? I''m not a pet..."


    He hadn''t said it to her. She touched his face gently.


    "Please help me. I don''t want to be a pet."


    Their eyes locked for a few precious seconds. Balto felt kindness in Mrs. Garc¨ªa''s gaze. She had always helped him, even when she wasn''t allowed to. She made him sandwiches and listened him talk when Mr. Humphrey was busy.


    She was the closest thing to a mother he actually had, and he leaned into her touch with a quiet purr, wiping away some tears with his tail-tip.


    Mrs. Garc¨ªa rubbed her eyes and sighed, shaking her head at the same time.


    "I can''t. I don''t want to lose my job." As the dragon stumbled over his words, trying to respond, she got closer and rubbed behind his ear a little. "And you are. You''re their pet. I can''t take it off."


    Who was she to argue with his owner? She was just the maid.


    "I have to get to work, mi peque?o diablo. You should¡­" The woman felt an aching pain in her chest. "You should get ready for your route. You don''t want to make your dad upset again."


    She hesitated, running her palms over her apron and avoiding Balto''s gaze. The woman left him.


    Balto watched silently as she left, whole body limp and feeling like there was an ice cube stuck partway down his esophagus.


    He chirped quietly but she didn''t turn around when she heard. She stopped, but then kept going.

 Chapter 9

    IX


    Lee watched from his garden-lawn as Balto flew overhead. It was well into the afternoon Lee realized as he finished watering a particularly dry set of flowers, but the man was happy to have the young dragon as a guest again. He smiled weakly, put on a pot of tea, and waited on the porch for Balto to arrive.


    And he did. Balto arrived much, much sooner than Lee was expecting. He had barely gotten comfortable by the time he saw the dragon limping up to the gate, crying to himself¡­


    ...with a deep bruise on the side of his head and a choker-collar around his neck and a dragon-star hanging from it.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Lee almost got out, but Balto was already rushing over, stumbling over himself and crying, ¡°Please help me! Take it off! Take it off take it off take it off!¡±


    ¡°Calm down. I¡¯ll grab my cutters,¡± Lee whispered, heading inside. He scavenged through his gardening closet until he found a small, single-handed pair of bolt cutters. He had only ever needed them for cutting the occasional padlocks around town when someone needed them.


    The dragon paced frantically through the lawn until Lee returned.


    ¡°Take it off take it off take it off¡­¡± the dragon repeated it over and over again until the solid clink! of metal being cut apart rang in his ears and the freedom of breath returned to him once more. He chucked the collar across the yard, tangled in the fence, and began hissing in its direction like it was a snake.


    ¡°Calm down, calm down,¡± Lee said, placing a steady hand on Balto¡¯s head, right on the newly formed bruise. It hadn¡¯t been there when he had left Balto before. The collar hadn¡¯t been there either, but Lee couldn¡¯t decide which was more distressing. ¡°What did those boys in Dursly do to¡­¡±


    ¡°It was him! It was Father...no¡­¡± Balto¡¯s eyes filled with tears and he growled to himself, baring his teeth at nothing but what was in his mind. ¡°Mr. Humphrey¡­¡± Balto snarled, voice cracking with hatred and profound anguish. ¡°He...he...he says he owns me! No one owns me! I own me!¡±


    Balto looked at Lee, lower jaw quivering.


    ¡°No one...no one owns me, right?¡± Whatever hatred was behind Balto before was overcome and replaced with pain...a broken heart...confused love and loyalty warring against feelings of betrayal and hate.


    ¡°No one owns you, Balto,¡± Lee answered. ¡°Come inside. I have tea on.¡±


    Balto nodded and followed Lee inside. Inside was a homey living room of framed pictures over a fireplace mantle, furniture for plenty of people. The place smelled like outside but somehow...lonelier, like the air was rarely disturbed and left to settle more times than it should have been.


    ¡°You...you have a nice home,¡± Balto mentioned, finding a spot beside a loveseat to place himself. The carpeted floors were soft and thick and were comfortable to lay on at least, and the coffee table was well within reach.


    Lee came back in with a tray of tea and its assorted additives. He placed the tray on the table and said, ¡°You can sit on the couch if you want. I won¡¯t have a guest sit on the floor.¡±


    Balto looked at the loveseat precariously before hopping up and settled down on the cushions. He hadn¡¯t been on something so soft in so long¡­


    ¡°And you can take that off, if you want,¡± Lee added, pointing at Balto¡¯s harness.


    Balto didn¡¯t hesitate to toss it to the floor, a loud thud coming from it.Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°Would you like to take a nap? I can¡¯t imagine you slept very well last night.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll sleep later,¡± Balto replied. ¡°I...I actually wanted to show you something before I go.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    The dragon reached down into his satchels and pulled out two items: a map and what looked like a photo album.


    ¡°I wanted...I wanted to give these to you,¡± Balto said, placing his stamp collection on the coffee table. Lee opened it to the first set and began to deny the gift before Balto interrupted him and added, ¡°They¡¯re...they¡¯re not really mine...they¡¯re not mine. They¡¯re mine because I was allowed to keep them, but they¡¯re not mine. I want my...what are they called? I don¡¯t like calling them hoards.¡±


    ¡°Collection?¡±


    ¡°Okay then. I want my collection to be mine. I want you to have them while I figure out a way to replace your book. I...I didn¡¯t get to finish it and Fa...Mr. Humphrey burned it up.¡±


    Lee sighed, shut the album. ¡°I¡¯ll keep them for you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you...and if they end up going missing¡­¡± The dragon sighed and finished, ¡°...I won¡¯t really miss them.¡±


    Lee eyed the map that Balto had close to his chest.


    ¡°And that?¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Balto held the map out and set it on the table. ¡°Can...you draw me a route to Washington?¡± Balto saw Lee¡¯s apprehension, forced a smile, and said, ¡°Not for running away. I just...want to know how to get there, ya know? I want to see that I can do it on paper. I want to feel like...I have somewhere to go when I get older.¡±


    Lee nodded. ¡°I know. Here.¡±


    The man took a pen off the nearby stand that had his phone on it, and opened the map up. He drew lines and made notes and drew more lines.


    ¡°Thank you¡­¡± Balto mumbled. ¡°Thank you so much¡­¡± The dragon leapt off the couch and collided with Lee, placing his head in the man¡¯s chest and both front paws around his ribs in a makeshift hug. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll be able to see you again soon. No one¡¯s ever been this nice to me before. Thank you for not treating me like someone¡¯s pet¡­¡±


    Lee smiled and placed his arms around the dragon¡¯s head, watching out for his horns.


    That¡¯s enough crying. It¡¯s time to be a big dragon. Dragons don¡¯t cry.


    ¡°You¡¯re not a pet, Balto.¡± The embrace lasted until Balto finally stopped crying on his own and Lee asked, ¡°Final cup of tea then? And how about I take a look at your leg?¡±


    Balto nodded and let his friend Lee pour him a cup of tea...with milk.


    +++


    Balto, sitting with his injured hind stretched forward in a sturdy, homemade splint, watched fields of corn transform into a vast open landscape of grass that would come up to his shoulders just as the sun was hitting the horizon, spreading hues of orange and red and warm yellows in infinite directions across the dimming blue sky. Balto watched in amazement, never having appreciated any sunsets until then. He had always been frantically flying home for dinner when they were happening.


    But now he was free to watch.


    Free to look at the sunset.


    His first sunset.


    His first free sunset.


    The rumble of tracks beneath him and the roaring locomotive ahead of him did little to deter the feeling the sunset had on him¡­


    ...the feeling of the harness on him did though.


    Balto tore the shredded harness off his back and looked at it, full of anger and fear...but something like happiness too...


    You don¡¯t own me¡­


    ¡°No one owns me¡­¡± Balto said, letting the harness and its pouches and every parcel of mail he had brought slip lazily out of his grip and fall away from his vagrant¡¯s railcar.


    He felt lighter.


    He could breathe.


    He felt like he could make a real smile again¡­


    ...and so he did¡­


    The dragon smiled.