The dragon pig growled again, but it was all vibration. No sound.
“That’s good,” I said. “You’re good.”
Ryder muscled Spud down the hall toward the spare room.
Vivian straightened. “What are you—can I hold it?” If she suspected the pig was anything other than a pig, she didn’t show it.
“You don’t want to hold it.”
“But I do. I really do. Look at the sweet little piggy-poo face.”
I felt the dragon pig tense in my arms, and I knew if I handed it over to that woman she would be burned to a crispy snack.
“It pees.”
The dragon pig huffed a weird littleoinkthat sounded like outrage.
“Oh, I’m sure it’s fine.”
“No, no,” I pulled the pig back, tucking it into my side in a football hold. “Anyone who picks it up gets wet. Dripping.”
“It’s not peeing on you.”
“That’s because…” Warm liquid trickled down my shirt and pants.
Ew. I didn’t even know the dragon knew how to pee. It had never peed in all the time it had been with us. Which might be why it just kept on peeing. And peeing.
Gross.
“Oh, that’s hilarious!” She clapped. “Where is my camera? I need a picture of this.”
“Gotta clean it up!” I shouted.
I jogged down the hall to the bathroom, passing Ryder who was talking Spud into staying in the small spare room we used as an office. There was a bed in there for him and the dragon pig, several of their favorite toys, and a water dish.
“Stay here, boy. I’ll get you dinner in a minute,” Ryder said.
I pushed into the bathroom and plopped the pig down in the sink.
“Oh my gods. That was disgusting!”
The dragon pig growled and stomped its little piggy feet pacing a circle in the sink.
“You didn’t have to pee on me,” I hissed.
It stopped pacing and planted two front feet on the edge of the sink. Smoke curled up from its nostrils and it rumbled at me.
“Don’t give me that look.” I shucked off my shirt and got a washcloth wet from the tub spigot. “It was the first thing I could think of.”
It snarled.
“No,” I said. “Because you were already growling at her and pigs don’t growl.”
It grumped while I finished washing away dragon pee, which was colorless and smelled like burnt marshmallow.
Knuckles softly rapped on the door. “Got you a new shirt.” Ryder opened the door and stood there, grinning.
I grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the bathroom. “Not that I’d ever say no to a quicky,” he said, crowding all up in my space, “but we have company.” He pressed the bright orange Henley into my hands, and stepped back.
