We are now a sixty-family flight that has necessitated expanding our housing in all directions along the mountain range. Our flight boasts the most diverse mixed-species community on the continent and provides both housing and food sources to accommodate everyone’s unique dietary needs. The work tithe system has been successful, helping young mated couples establish financial independence without costing their families a single cent.
“Thauglor secretly likes the democratic process,” Mina whispers conspiratorially, leaning closer so her words are for my ears alone. “Just don’t tell Klauth that little detail.”
“It’s our secret,” I promise, sealing the pact with another kiss to her soft cheek before vanishing from sight.
I have important preparations to make—questions to write and drop into the anonymous suggestion bag before tonight’s meeting. Balor is in charge of maintaining the contents’anonymity tonight, which means the evening should be both productive and entertainingly chaotic in equal measure.
Chapter
Four
Nest Health Check-In
The familiar ritual of our nest health check-in unfolds in our expanded living room. The space that’s grown considerably to accommodate our ever-increasing mixed-species family. The warm glow of strategically placed lamps creates an intimate atmosphere despite the room’s impressive size, and the comfortable arrangement of couches, chairs, and floor cushions speaks to years of trial and error in finding seating that works for beings of vastly different sizes and shapes.
Per usual, Klauth, and Thauglor are engaged in their traditional pre-meeting grumbling about the democratic process. Their ancient voices carrying that tone of long-suffering resignation that comes from adapting to modern family dynamics.
“The very idea that dragons of our age and experience need a bag of anonymous questions,” Klauth mutters, his massive frame somehow looking petulant despite his intimidating presence.
“It’s beneath our dignity,” Thauglor agrees, though I notice he’s already settled into his favorite chair with the comfortablefamiliarity that suggests he’s not nearly as opposed to the process as he pretends to be.
“I have collected five questions from every mate, and they are all here in the bag,” Balor announces with characteristic efficiency as he steps into the center of the living room. His posture radiates the calm authority that makes him such an effective mediator for our diverse group.
Tonight is the family-friendly edition of our check-ins, which means the hatchlings have also contributed their thoughts and concerns via a separate bag. The sight of all our children gathered together—some in human form, others comfortably shifted—never fails to fill my chest with that familiar warmth of belonging and purpose.
The adult portion of the evening proceeds exactly as expected, covering the practical matters that keep our large mixed-species household functioning smoothly. We discuss schedule changes necessitated by shifting job positions at Shadowcarve Academy. We listened to Thauglor’s continued attempts to convince Mina to join the faculty as an instructor. Then work out the rotating parental duties that will allow me to return to my beloved teaching responsibilities.
These are the small but vital details that make managing a nest of our size possible. The logistics become infinitely easier to coordinate during dedicated discussion time rather than trying to catch everyone individually throughout the week.
“Okay, now onto the children’s portion of our grab bag session,” Balor announces, his voice taking on the slightly amused tone he reserves for dealing with our younger family members.
Mina makes an elaborate show of reaching into the colorfully decorated bag, her movements theatrical enough to draw giggles from several of the watching hatchlings. She pulls out the first card with a flourish that would make a stage magician proud.
“Why can’t the kittens fly even though they have scales?” Mina reads aloud. I can see her fighting to keep her expression serious as she addresses what is obviously a deeply important question to whoever submitted it. “Sometimes, even though one parent”—she places her hand dramatically over her heart—”is a dragon, it doesn’t automatically mean all the children will inherit wings. Though it would be pretty amazing if they did, wouldn’t it?”
Her smile is warm and encouraging as we watch the twins. My daughters from an earlier clutch—nod solemnly at each other, clearly filing away this information for future reference. Their kitten-shifted forms are adorable beyond words, but I can see the longing in their eyes when they watch their dragon siblings take to the skies.
“Can ice cream night be twice a week?” Mina reads the next question, and the barely contained hope in her voice makes it clear she’s fighting not to burst into laughter at the delightfully straightforward request.
“I’ll handle this one,” Klauth declares with the gravity of someone addressing matters of international importance. He rises to his full, imposing height and looks down at the assembled hatchlings with an expression of mock seriousness. “If everyone completes their homework and chores without arguing or complaint, we can consider adding a second ice cream night to the weekly schedule.”
His smile carries the wisdom of someone who knows exactly how long such perfect cooperation will last—approximatelythree days, if we’re lucky. The delighted cheers from the children suggest they’re willing to attempt the impossible for the promise of additional frozen treats.
Mina shakes her head at Klauth’s diplomatic maneuvering and reaches into the bag once more. “Is Daddy Lee ever going to have a hatchling?“
She pauses as she studies the handwriting, and I lean over her shoulder to get a better look at the carefully formed letters. The question is written in Raven’s distinctive script, each letter precise and thoughtful in a way that speaks to both her intelligence and her deep emotional investment in family dynamics.
“Eventually, yes,” Mina answers with gentle certainty, her voice carrying the maternal warmth that makes even the most anxious child feel secure. “It needs to be completely safe for hatchlings whose fathers are prey animals by nature. You older children need to mature just a bit more, and then we’ll welcome the next clutch into our family with all the love and preparation they deserve.”
She hands the bag to Abraxis before gracefully moving to sit between Leander and Callan, her strategic positioning speaking volumes about the romantic plans brewing beneath the surface of tonight’s innocent family meeting.
“Can we have more rabbits and small prey animals available for hunting practice while shifted?“ Abraxis reads, looking toward Thauglor with the professional consultation that suggests this topic has been discussed before in administrative contexts.
“We were already in the planning stages for expanding the hunting grounds after the next round of birthdays,” Thauglorresponds, pulling a leather notepad from his jacket pocket and consulting it with characteristic thoroughness. “By the new year, we’ll have introduced both additional small game and some larger prey species to provide better training opportunities for everyone.”
The practical answer draws approving nods from several of the older hatchlings who’ve been chafing against the limitations of their current hunting grounds.
Abraxis shakes the bag again with theatrical flair and extracts the next note. “Can Mom even the odds a bit with the next clutch?“
