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. García 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. García’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 pequeño 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. García 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.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"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. García nodded, zipped her lips with a little sound, and said, "I won't tell anyone, mi pequeño 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.