A sense of dread churned in Viliant's stomach along with the excessive amount of food that he had eaten. Fia demanded to see their rations, so first, he walked through the side of the crate. His shadow form allowed him to situate himself comfortably inside. When he released the spell, his physical body crammed against the crate and made the wood creak. The spines along his back bit into the planks and bowed them upward before he even tried to push.

Oops. Viliant only now realized the sheer quantity of food that he had eaten. Despite the additional space that he had made in the crate, Viliant's bloated belly filled it up. His stuffed stomach pressed against the pile of meat underneath him, making his back put pressure on the lid above him. With a concentrated push against his horns, Viliant popped one side of the lid off. He dragged himself out of the crate so that Fia could inspect the contents.

The pink dragonette balanced her foreclaws against the rim, and she took a look inside. At once, her jaw dropped as she gasped. You ate a whole month's worth of food!

First of all, Viliant objected, it clearly wouldn't have lasted a month. It was a single night's worth of food.

For their rations, the dragonets had planned to subsist on one meal per week. Already, the reptilian species did not need to dine every day. If they stayed sedentary on the ship and spared their mana reserves, then they required even less food. Diwa had carefully figured the price of their passage, the length of their journey, and the cost of food for them. In anticipation of Viliant's voracious appetite, she had even packed extra snacks for them both. Fia gaped at Viliant, unsure how he had managed to eat so much—especially after they had feasted on the ghost pirarucu.

Second of all, Viliant explained, I was just trying to make room so we could both hide in here.

If you can barely fit, then where do I go? Fia glared at Viliant's engorged midsection. Maybe after you finish digesting all that, we can try it. Till then…. I go in the box! Fia kicked her back legs and flapped her wings. This motion made her topple over the side of the crate, head first. Fia somersaulted over their meat rations. Her rump hit the crate's far side, and the tip of her tail sagged close to her nose. Upside down, Fia peered at Viliant who poked his face above the crate. You stay out there! she growled.

Viliant chuffed a breath of disbelief. Fine. Between the two of them, the older dragonet knew that he was better equipped to hide amidst the other freight. If any humans approached, he could dip into the abundant shadows of the cargo hold. Viliant slid their crate's lid back in place, concealing Fia inside. The black dragonet curled behind the box where he dozed for the remainder of the night, keeping one eye open.

Fia slept soundly, sheltered in the box and guarded by Viliant who kept watch. Her slumber deepened throughout the early morning. The ship began to rock as it sailed out of the harbor. The motion reminded Fia of the way that her mother used to swing her side to side in the fold of her wing. I'm going home, she dreamed happily.

The din of human voices snapped Fia awake. A sharp, silent gasp caught in her throat. Viliant, she hissed to him outside the crate.

I know, he replied, and I'm ready. An edge of aggression lined Viliant's mind.

We have to stay hidden, Fia reminded him. However, that objective might prove difficult based on the topic of the sailors' conversation.

"The dragonets never showed," the first man remarked. "They must've chickened out."

"Speaking of chicken," said the second man, "we already had their food moved aboard. That means more for us! Let's take a peek, shall we?"

The floorboards creaked as a pair of feet approached the crate where Fia was stowed away. Her pulse quickened alongside her breath. Viliant, do something!

Brace yourself, he warned.

Fia squeezed her eyes shut. She feared the human hands which must descend for the top of the crate. Abruptly, all the boxes in the cargo hold shifted along the bottom of the ship. Fia's body tumbled inside her own crate. She clamped her jaw shut to keep herself from yelping.

The men did nothing of the sort, howling as their bodies were flung against the wall. The strike of their shoulders was quickly followed by a grunt. The boxes careened toward the unsuspecting men. On top of this, some barrels tipped onto their side and rolled into them. The dark cargo hold turned into Viliant's playground. Manipulated by his shadows, Viliant threw things around at his whim.

"The water's rocky! Let's get somewhere safe, for now," the first sailor remarked.

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"Argh," cursed the second sailor. "I swore we battened down all the cases yesterday."

Together, the two men hefted the storage containers away from them. Their fading footsteps signaled their retreat from the cargo hold in favor of a more stable area of the ship.

They're gone now, Viliant reassured Fia.

Thank you, she groaned. I can't believe they want to steal our food!

I'll keep them away, Viliant said. We can always steal their food—

No! Fia nipped that thought in the bud before he could become too attached to the idea. If any of their rations go missing, that'll give us away. We can't risk anything that'll draw extra attention to us.

I know, Viliant clarified. It's a last resort, so we don't starve.

Fia rolled her eyes. We're not going to starve, so long as you don't eat everything too fast.

A note of anxiety remained in the back of Viliant's mind. After he had endured most of his early childhood with hunger pangs, he did not like to limit himself around food. Not that many moons had passed since he could count on a full stomach. Even if the rational part of him knew that he must ration their food, Viliant struggled to do so. A deep breath filled his chest. I'll protect you and our food, he promised Fia.

During the ruckus, Viliant had conveniently moved their box of rations toward the back. The other crates blocked it on all sides, discouraging the humans from checking this one. He even used a claw made of shadows, bubbling up from the floor, to prop a barrel on top.

A dull thump sounded over the lid, just above Fia's head. Her wings peeled back, pressed against her ribs. What was that?

I'm burying our crate.

Fia whined out of alarm. How am I supposed to get out?

You don't, Viliant replied tersely. I mean, you don't need to.

In a single, embarrassed word, Fia reminded him, Potty.

Right. The other's defecatory needs had easily slipped from their minds. It felt like an eon ago that they had designated a corner of their shared, cramped cell to that purpose. I'll keep our box on top. Viliant did not want to constantly waste his mana, moving the crates to and fro everytime that Fia needed a brief relief away from their food. He enticed the shadows to arrange the cargo hold into an optimal layout for defense and convenience.

Fia and Viliant were both tucked away in their hiding spots by the time that the sailors came back. "Hurry," one man said. "We'd better fix everything before Captain Mawsig notices." The two men found themselves busy enough that they no longer had time for a snack of salted meats. By the time that they had finished, the sailors hurried to fulfill work elsewhere on the ship.

***

The days passed uneventfully. Fia invented various games to play with him over telepathy. I'm thinking of a number—

Seven, Viliant said at once.

Nope! Fia jeered back.

You're lying.

How do you know I'm lying? Her smug attitude came across their telepathic link. Despite the inane nature of a guessing game over telepathy, it attuned Fia and Viliant to the detection of lies over telepathy. So too, they practiced concealing their own thoughts. The game naturally devolved into bickering.

This is stupid. I'm not playing anymore, Viliant finally determined.

"Aw," Fia sighed inside the crate. Her belly squirmed overtop the meat. I'll give you a bite of meat if you can guess the number that I'm thinking—

Two.

That wasn't it. Fia pouted from genuine surprise. She had kept seven as her secret number this whole time.

No, Viliant clarified. I want two pieces of meat.

Fine. Fia caved to his demands since she wanted anything to stave off the boredom. Their meat supply dwindled too rapidly for the first two weeks that passed on the ship.

***

One morning, a coarse, scratching sound woke her up. "Eep!" Fia squeaked like a mouse. The dragonette wondered if a larger rodent had snuck onto the ship like they did. Viliant, she called, I think there's a rat! Fia writhed from excitement. An infestation on the ship could provide a potential supplement to their food stock. The second that Viliant approved her to come out of the crate, she wanted to hunt.

Rude. For some reason, Viliant took offense to her desire to catch a rat.

Huh?

That's not a rat. It's just me. A second bout of loud rubbing sounded against the crate's exterior.

Oh. Why're you being so loud? Fia now worried that Viliant's incessant noise would make the humans investigate its source eventually.

I'm itchy, Viliant admitted lamely, and my scales are falling off.

Fia gasped. Your scales are falling off? How many?

A long pause accompanied his dread. At last, he revealed, All of them. During one of the worst possible times, Viliant's scales had begun to molt.