Chapter Text
January...what a horrible month.
Ian Lightfoot had just left his Social Studies class--his last class of the day, and without question one of his least favorite ones--walking out through the doors and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket as the freezing wind immediately hit his face. The cold slid over his head and the back of his neck in seconds, so he spared a moment to pull one of his hands back out and put his hood up. He grumbled as he adjusted it so that his pointed ears weren't too much of an obstruction. Once that was done, he thrust his hand back into its pocket and hunched his shoulders. He shivered as another gust of wind hit him, and he tried to turn his face away from the worst of it, balling his hands into fists in the hopes that that would warm his fingers back up.
Ian had never liked winter, but he thought that maybe he could've tolerated it more if there had been snow--at least you could make something fun out of snow, or (if you were like him) you could sit inside with a mug of hot cholate and just stare out the window, admiring how beautiful it looked. But alas, so far it hadn't been cold enough for snow this year--or perhaps, not consistently enough. For the most part they'd instead had to deal with days of bleak, dreary gray clouds, although they also had moments of either rain or ice. Nowhere near as much fun and a whole lot more boring, as Ian's brother Barley never failed to remind him.
I wonder if it's possible to start a petition to get January cancelled, Ian thought to himself. Nothing fun ever happens in January. His musings were interrupted when he heard a shout behind him.
Ian turned around just in time to see three other students--a satyr, a goblin and another elf--running his way and laughing. He hastily stepped out of their way, but wasn't quick enough to avoid the icy water that splashed onto his shoes and the bottoms of his jeans from where the elf kid had rushed straight through a large puddle.
"Hey!" Ian cried indignantly, but the other kids ran on, none of them even seeming to notice him. He groaned as he felt the water seeping through the fabric of his shoes, his feet now chilled and wet. I hope I don't come down with something, he thought miserably. He decided he couldn't start a petition after all--that would require talking to people in order to get names, something Ian had no wish to do. Feeling the overwhelming desire to be home, get some warm and dry socks on and just enjoy his weekend, Ian continued on to where the school buses were.
As he walked he spotted a few groups of kids walking together and chatting, and he sighed. Barley had made a big deal about how exciting starting middle school would be, but so far fifth grade had been nothing special. It was just more of what Ian remembered from elementary school: quizzes no one wanted to take, the threat of having your parents called if you did something wrong hanging over your head, and other kids who decided you weren't worth their time.
Maybe things would change for real once he made it to high school.
Ian had just spotted the school buses, wincing at the squishing sounds his soggy shoes were making and trying not to focus on how cold his feet were, when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Frowning, he turned his head. At first all he saw was the same group of bushes clumped together at the wall of the building that he always saw when he came this way. Just as he was about to walk away, though, he saw it: a flash of light green, too warm and bright to belong to the plant life that had withered over the past couple of months. Curiosity piqued, Ian began to walk in that direction, pausing just long enough to glance at the buses and ensure that they weren't leaving yet.
Once he reached the bushes, Ian slowed. His brown eyes darted around, trying to find that light green. The eleven-year-old didn't see anything...but he did hear a twig snap, followed by a whimper. Ian glanced down and saw the bottom of one of the bushes rustling. Swallowing, he got down on his hands and knees and peered under the bush.
The first thing he registered were the sharp teeth and huge yellow eyes, and Ian's mouth fell open. He could feel a scream rising in his throat--until the creature whimpered again. His jaw clicked shut. Monsters didn't make sounds like that. Right? The creature then made a high-pitched whining sound, seemingly to confirm his instincts. Feeling a little braver, Ian grasped some of the lower branches and pushed them aside to get a better look at what lay beneath. He gasped.
Long, thin body, stumpy horns, brittle-looking wings, green scales...it was a dragon. It shook itself, its tail smacking against the bark, and it looked up at him. The creature was small, only just big enough to fit into Ian's arms. Ian lingered on this detail, then looked into its golden eyes. He realized that this thing was a baby. A shy smile crept onto his face.
"Um...hi..." he said. She--Ian had gotten a good enough look to tell now, it was female--tilted her head, ears perking curiously. Ian stretched his fingers toward her, his movements slow and cautious. She considered him for a moment, the look in her eyes uncertain. "It's okay," Ian said, his voice quiet yet encouraging. "I won't hurt you. I promise."
That seemed to be good enough for her. She stretched her neck out towards his hand, sniffing his fingertips. In a few seconds, she had crept close enough for him to pat her head.
"That's right..." Ian said with a smile. "That feels good, huh? You're a good girl, aren't you?" Then he frowned. Ian looked around, trying to see someone who looked like they searching for their lost pet. He saw no one. His gaze returned to the hatchling, who had stepped even closer to him, her head resting in his lap. "Where did you come from? What are you doing here?"
Ian took a closer look at the young dragon, beginning to notice a few more details about her. For starters, there were a few scratches on her side beneath her left wing that looked fairly recent. Dried blood crusted along the sides, which meant that they'd never been cleaned. Had they even been looked at? There was something else, too...she seemed friendly enough to approach him, but she flinched whenever Ian made any quick movements. Aside from a tank of fish, the Lightfoots had never owned pets, but Ian had played with them at his relatives' houses, so he was relatively certain that that wasn't normal.
The most concerning thing, though--and the one that raised the biggest red flag in his mind--was the fact that she was shivering. Badly, in fact.
Ian wasn't an expert on animals by any means, but he did know that all dragons, from the newly-born to the ancient, possessed a resistance to cold. In fact, he had heard many pet owners mention how much they loved to cuddle with their pet dragons in colder weather because it was like holding a miniature heater. Barley had once summarized them as having a physical heart's fire--whatever the heck that meant. The keyword, however, was resistance. Not immunity. For this dragon to be shivering as much as she was...how long had she been out here?
Ian's voice wobbled a little as he asked her one more question. "Are you lost...?"
Engines started up behind him. Ian gasped as head shot up and twisted to look behind him. He gulped--he hadn't noticed that there was no longer anyone in the lot besides him. The buses were about to leave!
"Oh no no no no no!" Ian exclaimed, his mind flooding with mental images of being left behind to suffer a long, dull weekend at New Mushroomton Middle School--otherwise known as the bane of his existence--without even the comfort of the library, which was always kept locked when the librarian wasn't present. All he'd have for company would be the school janitor--wait, not even the janitor! Everyone knew that he spent his weekends riding around town on a motorcycle!
Maybe later Ian would lament that even janitors had more of a life than him, but he had to move now!
Ian was about to leap up and make a run for it...when he remembered the baby dragon in his arms. She was looking at him in total alarm, a questioning whine sounding from her throat. For a moment, indecisiveness made him freeze. Then, panic set in, and Ian tore his constellation-themed backpack from his shoulders and opened the biggest pocket. He whistled and gestured to it. "Come on, girl!"
He hoped that she'd get the picture right away and hop right in, but instead, she was looking at him as though he'd lost his mind. Then a new sound registered in his ears: he looked to see the first bus pulling out of the parking lot. A distressed whimper escaped him and without thinking, he scooped the little dragon up and dumped her into his backpack, zipping it back shut but leaving just enough of a hole that she could still breathe. Then he bolted to his feet, backpack pressed to his front, and he and ran as though he'd drank a carton of rocket fuel just as the second bus started to drive away. His bus was the fourth one down; if he was fast enough, he could make it.
As the third bus began to move he felt his backpack squirming and felt a pang of guilt. What was he doing? What if she belonged to somebody nearby and he was stealing her? He should let her back out right now. Even as the thought entered his mind, though, Ian knew that no one really lived in this part of town; it was used mainly for businesses such as small restaurants like Burger Shire. And the schools, of course.
But what about his mother? Barley had already asked her several times before--the last time being a month ago, actually--if they could have a pet that wasn't fish. Ian himself had asked her a few times. Her answer was always the same: "No, not yet. Maybe someday, though, when you two are a little bigger." That answer had been easier to accept when they were younger, albeit grudgingly, but when Barley had asked that last time he'd pointed out to her that he was fourteen years old now--how much bigger did he need to be?! The point was, Ian wasn't sure she'd let the dragon stay, even for a while.
But he remembered the look of yearning in the baby's eyes as she sat with him...how could he leave her alone?
All thought vanished from his mind as he saw the door of his bus slide shut, which meant that it was going to peel out any second. "WAIT!" he screamed. He slammed into the door and started pounding on it with his fist. "LEMMEINLEMMEINLEMMEINLEMMEIN!" he chanted at the top of his lungs, terrified that if he didn't get his point about wanting to go home across he'd be stuck at the school for eternity (well, until Monday came back around, but really, what was the difference?). Judging by the bus driver's exasperated expression as the door mercifully slid back open, Ian succeeded. He hurriedly clambered up the stairs and find just about every other kid on the bus pointing at him and laughing. Face burning, Ian kept his eyes trained on the floor as he made his way to the emptiest seat he could find. He sat down just as the bus pulled onto the street.
Ian shut his eyes for a moment, willing his pulse to stop racing. Then he remembered the bundle in his arms. He looked around to see if anyone was watching him; thankfully, though, they had gotten bored of his spectacle and had moved onto their own topics. For once, Ian was grateful to be a ghost among his peers. He pulled the zipper of his bag a little and peeked inside. The dragon stared back at him, eyes wide with confusion.
"I'm sorry, girl," he whispered to her. He pushed his hand inside, half-afraid she might bite him out of vengeance for his rough handling of her. He felt her sniff his hand and he tensed, but she did nothing more than nuzzle his hand. He sighed and said quietly, "I'll make it up to you when we get to my house. I promise I will."
Even as he said this, though...he tried not to think about how much trouble he could get into if he got caught. Ian's brows furrowed, and he pushed the thought out of his head. She was just a little baby dragon, and he only needed to hide her for a little while--just long enough to find her owner. He smiled to himself.
How hard could that be?