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 come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen 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. García 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.