“Not funny. I just about fell out of bed when I woke up with my face practically buried in it.”
“Let me get you a coffee and some breakfast to help you recover from the trauma,” she offered.
Coffee? Must be the black stuff she’d brewed in a metal pot on the stove. A few steps were involved to steep the dark, aromatic grains she’d poured into the middle.
“Storm seems done,” the male noted as he sipped from a mug.
“Lots of snow, though. Looks to be about a foot and a half,” she remarked, sliding in across from him at the table.
“I’ll get out after breakfast and shovel a path to the road. Then I’ll see if I can’t get the car up here and parked before the plow tries to come by.”
“You think they’ll clear the road today?”
He shrugged. “No idea, but I’d rather not get the side of my car torn up by its blade if it does.”
Boring human talk. I finished my meal, begged for a second bowl, cleared what remained of Zaza’s, then wandered off in search of something interesting.
I found nothing because the tablet had died, to Zaza’s chagrin.
“Sorry,” the woman apologized to the man as she held the crying child. “She doesn’t understand we can’t charge it until the electricity comes back on.”
“I’ll probably cry too when my laptop dies. I’m going to shovel. Holler if you need anything.”
When the male—whom the female kept calling Bruce—put on his boots and coat, I scampered to be tucked close when he opened the door. He paused in the threshold and glanced down at me “You sure you want to go out there, Percy?”
I did. The snow called to me.
Unlike before, the chilly air didn’t bother as intensely. My molt had left me feeling stronger, more resistant to the elements. Or at least less affected by the cold. Given we hatched in extreme heat, fire and hot temperatures didn’t bother us. And now, for me at least, neither did the snow. To test my resiliency, I tunneled muzzle first into the soft fluff and emerged, blowing flakes from my nostrils.
Bruce chuckled. “Someone’s full of piss and vinegar today.”
Hardly. I’d vacated my bowels in the chamber pot already, and as for vinegar? Why would I be full of it?
As the male cleared the walkway and worked his way to the car, I explored, invigorated by the fresh air and freedom. In the egg, I’d not really been conscious of my confined space, but my hatching left me in a cloistered network of tunnels. I’d never been so happy as the day I’d found the exit into the wider world.
And now I was on track to begin my domination of the world. A lofty ideal? Hardly. Becoming the ultimate ruler was every dragon’s goal, but it took time. Time for us to grow. To conscript servants. Accumulate wealth. Achieve a grandeur that had humans either fearing or worshipping us. A dragon always knew how well they did in that respect by how many sought their death.
Although, it should be noted, while all dragons aspired to rule the world, my inherited memories didn’t have any recollection of one doing so. My kind ever seemed to fall short, the failure partially because we tended to try and eliminate rivals, usually resulting in catastrophic injury, but mostly we never achieved our destiny because humans rebelled against the dragonlords. Not the loyal servants, of course. Once bonded, those who catered to our needs remained steadfast for life. However, those who’d not been honored? They apparently could not see that serving us was in their best interest. And they wondered why we ate those who proved contrary.
The rumble of a car motor let me know Bruce had reached the vehicle and now attempted to crest the swell of the hill. It took him a bit of time to coax the vehicle the short distance. I sat atop a mound of snow and watched. Also listened, as the process involved cursing, which increased my grasp of the human language. Bruce employed all kinds of tricks to get the car moving. I watched with interest as he poured some sand from a bag, the grit providing his wheels traction to get past the icy spots. Ingenious.
It took him a while, but eventually, he managed to pull the car close to the house and emerged from its interior to huff, “Well, that’s done. Now to shovel the path to the hot tub.”
He had just finished clearing a wide trail when a loud wailing erupted from inside.
Bruce ran for the door and flung it open, exclaiming, “What’s wrong?”
I peeked between the male’s legs to see the child red-faced and yelling, sitting on the floor, waving around a boot.
“Zaza wants to play in the snow but I told her we can’t. My things are still wet from last night.” Nicky pointed to the clothing draped by the wood burning stove.
“Oh.” Bruce’s lips pursed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for her to disturb you.”
He frowned down at the child. “She likes the snow?”
“This would be her first time. She is too young to remember me taking her to play in it last year, but she’s seen it in videos.”
