Over the course of the week, Finn began to understand why no one else had applied for the job. Each morning, he groaned as his flabby body rose from bed. Limbs stiff and eyes heavy, he'd stumble his way to the Eggery at the edge of campus discovering either an energetic Penny zooming about or Gale jotting on a clipboard and nursing a Big Swig.

Gale never lingered after he arrived. She'd dropped her equipment in his arms and sealed the office door behind her, rarely saying a word. Whatever small talk the green-robed witch lacked, however, Penny made up for. She had an almost supernatural talent for sensing whenever he felt dismayed or frustrated. She must have noticed what he had: his channeling abilities had declined. He knew why. The graduation ceremony memory now contained hundreds of strangers. All of which had heard his name spoken aloud.

She was worried that I'd quit. He thought mind drifting back to Penny. And why hadn't he? It's true he needed the money, but he could have applied for an internship in the Teleportation Department and made more. He wanted to be there when dragons hatched but did he need to be the one taking care of them? In more ways than one, this felt like a dead end than a career-starter.

Maybe they’ll hatch soon. He thought. How long could it take?

He’d stay a little longer, he decided, as he nestled his crystal under the bottom of an egg labeled ‘E2’ one hot afternoon. During his shifts he tapped them lightly with a conch that made ocean sounds after spotting movement inside; if it had then he couldn’t tell. When he asked Penny about them her answer was devastating.

“It’s my second year here!” She replied while jogging to an egg labeled ‘I3’ in the corner of the room. Finn frowned.

“How long does it take to hatch a dragon?” he asked, matching her gait.

“Gale says it usually takes four to five but without their mom…” she paused adopting a pensive look. Finally, her eyebrows creased forming a determined expression. “They can take all the time they need. I'm not going anywhere.”

Finn’s mind reeled. He could spend all four years working here and never see the eggs hatch. What was the point? As the day pressed on and the eggs demanded more and more, he fought the urge to walk off. His dragon riding dream seemed as distant as the one he glimpsed on his first day. After much internal debate, he would ask Gale to search for a replacement. It was the adult thing to do. A few more days here wasn’t going to kill him, he decided.

The next day, he tried approaching Gale but as he did the words caught in his throat; then either Penny or the eggs caught his attention. During daylight, the tall woman emerged only to drag trash bags from her office. They teemed with disposable coffee cups and drained soda cans. He guessed she thrived on it as much as Penny did.

He was a week into his new job and today Finn worked alone. The greenhouse felt emptier without Penny, but her Elem 1 midterm was this morning. As he waved a tuning fork over an egg labeled ‘A1’, Gale emerged hands full of refuse and sped away. The office door was left open; it swung on its hinges as if waving to him. When she disappeared past the double doors, he stowed his fork and sauntered over.

He expected to find a lived-in office with hills of papers and acres of spilled coffee. Instead, he found a compact ecosystem of furniture: rows of bookshelves, a bed complete with stuffed Guinea Pigs, a cabinet packed with snacks and coffee grounds, brewing equipment, and a hamster wheel all evenly lit by wander-wisps. He was scanning the floor for rodents when a hand fell on his shoulder.

“I use the wheel myself.” Gale explained with an amiable grin.

“I was—”

“Sometimes I just need to run on four legs. If we all did every-so-often the world be better for it, don't you think?”

“Uh—”

“Would you like to try?” she asked grinning mischievously. “I could cover for you.”

He shook his head.

“Shame.” she sighed. “It’s great fun.”

“I should get back to work.” He crept back to his fork and went back to taking A1’s temperature.

He didn't see Gale again until the end of his shift. She emerged from her office, her green robe shimmering against the setting sun. Wordlessly, he exchanged equipment with her. The witch’s face had set to an unreadable mask. Eyes locked on the exit, he stepped towards it.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Oh, and Finn,” she called just as he made it to the door.

He turned around slowly.

“The next time you want to see inside my office: ask.”

That night, after finishing another shower in his shorts, he found mosquito bites on his wrist. His roommates must have left the window open, he decided. He rubbed some ointment on it and went to bed. A long night of tossing and turning followed. When he awoke the bites had gotten redder and itchier. Feeling uneasy, he wrapped his wrist in bandages doubled the ointment. The irritation finally died down and he felt relieved.

---

It was the second day of Penny’s Elem 1 mid-term and of Finn working alone. The day was uneventful. With the sun setting and his shift ending Gale emerged from her den, a soda fizzing in hand.

“Good evening.” She warmly. “Off to dinner?”

Finn shook his head. “I gotta study History of Elem Magic. It's ramen for me.”

“You know, if you stick around I could you show something.” she said. “Have you ever seen inside an egg?”

“You can do that?” he asked. “Also, why would you do that?”

“To check up on them, of course. Done once every two weeks to measure micro-changes in growth patterns and diameter...” she trailed off seeing his face grow blank. “I’d be nice to have company for a change.”

To his surprise, he said: “Show me.”

“Eggcellent.” she punned. “Put these glasses on and channel but be careful. Too much and I’ll have to have them re-enchanted.”

He felt a telltale tingle spiral across his skin as the instrument synced to his eyesight. He blinked and slowly, the shell surrounding the egg vanished revealing a dragon.

It had a pair of long straight horns jutting out like bamboo shoots from each side of its head; they were large compared to the rest of their body which resembled bits of a bird and bits of a lizard. It’s long milk-white claws curled behind its back. They matched the ends of their peg-like legs, which twitched helter-skelter.

Sharp triangular scales, the same shape and pattern as the eggshell, flapped in accordance with a rhythm he could neither see nor hear with the membrane. He didn't know what a developed dragon looked like, but this was close.

“Be a dear a: fill this out.” She asked, handing him a clipboard. He inspected the document.

“How do I measure ‘Scale Density Variance’—” he cut off as neon-green numbers materialized on the lenses. Astonished he asked: “Did you make this?”

Gale shook her head. “On loan from a friend. It’s her project for the semester and she needs ‘real world’ data to present to her professor.” she explained. “I’ll miss it when it’s gone.”

“How do I check if they’re a boy or a girl?”

Again, Gale shook her head. “Dragons are magical creatures. To them gender is opt-in.”

He had just finished writing down the cranial measurements and turned to Gale. Instantly, the numbers faded. “It doesn’t work on humans?”

She shook her head. “You need special permissions to monitor humanoids.”

“Makes sense.” He ended his channel and took off the glasses. “I thought they were, uh—”

“That they were gooier?”

He nodded.

“Not these ones,” she explained. “They're hibernating, you see. If their mother was still alive, they would have hatched long ago.” Her voice was sad now, distant.

A long silence passed between them. It was the perfect time to tell her he wanted to quit, but when the lump in this throat finally cleared, he asked: “Why are you taking care of them?”

Gale looked at him as if for the first time. Eyes soft she replied, “Because I am human. Because I couldn’t refuse when the University told me their story. Because I'm on the side trying to make right. So, I give my days to this place.”

When he said nothing, she asked: “And what about you?”

“I don’t know.” He said. “I thought I was going to quit.”

“I did too. You were much more out of shape than previous applicants. You scowled whenever anyone called your name. You—”

“Okay, okay.” he said cutting her off.

“Do some soul-searching.” she suggested. “No one stays here for long without good reason.”

He shrugged. “Penny seems to get along fine.”

“She’s a special girl.” Gale replied. “And I’m happy that she’s here.”

So was he, he realized. The smile hadn't left Gale’s face.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” She replied. “I think I can handle the rest from here on out. Why don't you go study?”

He nodded. “Have a good night then.” Had he said something funny? When no answer came, he returned to his dorm room.

That night he examined the mosquito bites. The redness had faded but the skin around it had dried and cracked. Did his room have a bug problem? Rubbing lotion on it soothed him and it soon left his mind.

Today was sweltering day both inside and out. Penny’s midterm had come to an end. Her usual optimism had been replaced by quiet contemplation.

She must have failed, Finn thought as he cracked open a window. He tried speaking with her, but she responded with one-word answers. He decided to give her space and began watering B2. At last, she seemed to come to a decision and walked over. Her face took on a dark shade of red as she spoke. “We’ve been working together for awhile now, so I thought, if you felt more comfortable being called by another name…” she paused to let him fill in the blanks.

The pit of his stomach sank. After a moment too long, he replied: “I’m not sure what you mean.” Pitch raised in alarm. His expression begged her to drop the subject.

Before either could say more, however, a newfound itch surged through his hand. It took all his concentration to keep his eyes focused on Penny.

“You always look distant whenever I say your name, I thought—”

His hand was shaking now; every instinct bent towards his scratching it. He broke. Sweat pouring down his face he tore off his glove and ripped at his bandages.

Penny gasped.

He gaped.

The mosquito bites hadn’t gone away, they had formed into little red triangles: the same shape and color as the pattern on the eggs.