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Bria rolled her eyes at Tavi’s superstitions as she retrieved the key. “It’s late. No one’s out, and anyone not looking closely will think they’re a pet grasshopper from this distance.”
“Bria, are you okay? Because if Chiara looks like a grasshopper to you, you either need glasses or a prescription for the brain fever you have.”
“An albino grasshopper then,” Bria said, pushing the door open and letting Chiara scamper inside. She looked back at an exasperated Tavi with a raised eyebrow. “You coming in or what?”
Tavi stomped in from the cold, shaking snow off of his boots and muttering under his breath. Bria ignored him, heading instead for to the shelves in the back. She needed to find some kind of crate or box she could use to better carry (and hide) Chiara in than just a canvas tarp. Then, she needed to use the Speaking Stone to get approval from the Everden Scurryer office for their… new delivery priority that would take them from returning to headquarters within a fortnight as originally planned. Technically she still had two days before they were expected to check in from their last officially delivery, but their dispatch captain, Vanik, always was in a better mood when his journeyfolk reported in early. With any luck, she could convince him to make this an official endeavor and offer them some support—or at least cover the cost of field rations for the inevitable journey ahead.
Chiara also ignored Tavi, bounding cheerfully across the room in excited little leaps, sniffing every corner, and giving tentative little testing bites to various objects. “Can you tell them to stop?” Tavi asked as Chiara chomped down on the bottom corner of the front counter.
“Babies explore things with their mouth, Tavi,” Bria replied. “And I don’t actually know any more than you do how to talk to them!”
“They seem to like you,” Tavi said. “Maybe they bonded with you since you’re the first thing they saw when they hatched.”
“Or maybe you simply haven’t tried as much because you’ve been too worried about ‘getting your scent on it,’” Bria snapped, then immediately regretted. The wounded look on Tavi’s face made her stomach clench in unexpected ways.
An apology tumbled halfway from her lips before Tavi cut in. “No, no. That’s fair. And you’re right. But we’re in it now, and pretending we’re not isn’t going to help anything.”
“That’s a generous use of ‘we’.” Bria bit her lip. “I touched them first. I’ve been the one insisting we do this.”
“If I recall, they touched you first. And you’re right that helping them find their mother is the Scurryer—is the right thing to do.” Tavi looked towards the dragonling now gnawing on the wood of the counter. “It also is, conveniently, the self preservation thing to do. I still want the chance to explain myself instead of waking to a vengeful mother burning down everything around me.”
“What makes you so convinced their parent would track you down?” Bria asked, genuinely curious.
“Why take the chance?” Tavi held Bria’s questioning gaze for a moment before a crooked grin cracked his face. “Also, how often do we get to earn the gratitude of a dragon?”
A scold bubbled up to Bria’s lips, but Tavi had already turned back to the dragonling. He held up his hand. “Chiara,” he said. Chiara froze mid bite and their eyes flickered towards Tavi. “Can you come here, buddy?”
Bria watched, amazed, as Chiara stopped their chewing and strode across the room to Tavi. They gave the outstretched hand a tentative sniff, and Bria felt her jaw clench in worry that Chiara might snap at Tavi’s fingers. But Tavi held steady, maintaining eye contact with the dragonling.
After a short pause, Chiara nuzzled its nose into Tavi’s hand, and their breathing slowed and deepened as their eyes flickered shut.
“You’re right,” Tavi breathed. “All I had to do was ask. Smart lil’ bugger.”
The sound of a key turning in the lock froze all three occupants of the Scurryer office.
Bria’s ears shot straight up as her eyes darted to Tavi. The otter was already moving, scooping Chiara up in one fluid motion and depositing the surprised dragonling into the nearest wicker delivery basket. A startled chirp escaped Chiara before Tavi clamped a gentle but firm paw over their snout, making frantic shushing gestures with his other hand.
The door swung open, bringing with it a gust of cold air and a figure silhouetted against the night.
Bria’s nose twitched as a familiar scent reached her—sandalwood and parchment, with an undertone of strong tea. She hadn’t smelled that particular combination in nigh on two years, but her tension evaporated in an instant.
“Master Lin?” she breathed.
The massive tiger stepped fully into the office, shaking snow from his traveling cloak. Orange and black stripes seemed to shimmer in the lamplight as he turned, his amber eyes widening in genuine surprise behind his wire-rimmed spectacles.
“Bria? Tavi?” Shen Lin’s deep voice carried the same warmth Bria remembered from their apprenticeship. A smile broke across his whiskered face. “What in the Known Woods are you two doing here?”
“We could ask you the same thing!” Tavi said, a bit too loudly. His paw remained conspicuously planted on top of the basket beside him.
Lin closed the door behind him, brushing more snow from his shoulders. The tiger cut an impressive figure even in casual travel clothes. He was easily twice the size of most animals Bria knew, with a quiet strength that came not from intimidation but from unshakeable competence. The silver cloak pin of a Traveler-ranked Scurryer gleamed on his chest, the three ascending birds marking him as one of the most experienced in the guild.
“I’m on vacation,” Lin said, setting down a well-worn satchel. “This is my home village. I come back when I can to visit family, check in with Sansan.” His eyes narrowed slightly, though his smile remained. “Though I notice you haven’t answered my question.”
“We were delivering packages to the village,” Bria explained, stepping forward. Relief at seeing her old mentor made words tumble out faster than usual. “We finished our route and heard about the merchant caravan that got ambushed in the woods. The mayor asked if we could retrieve some lost cargo, and we volunteered to—”
A thump from inside the basket interrupted her.
Lin’s ear twitched. His gaze drifted to where Tavi stood, the otter’s posture radiating forced casualness.
“That’s, uh, the cargo,” Tavi said. “We found it.”
“In a basket,” Lin observed.
“It’s fragile,” Bria offered weakly.
Another thump. Then a distinct scratching sound.
Lin walked forward with measured steps, his tail swishing behind him in that particular way Bria remembered meant he was thinking. He’d done the same thing when she’d tried to hide the fact that she’d fallen in a creek during a delivery and soaked an entire satchel of letters. (She’d spent three days carefully drying and re-copying them all before he’d found out anyway.)
“May I?” Lin asked, gesturing to the basket.
Tavi looked at Bria. Bria looked at Tavi. They both looked at the basket, which chose that exact moment to rock violently to one side.
“It’s alive,” Tavi admitted.
“I gathered,” Lin said dryly.
“And possibly dangerous,” Bria added.
“Also gathered.”
“And definitely not what we thought we were retrieving,” Tavi finished.
Lin’s whiskers twitched in what might have been amusement. “Well then. I suppose I should see what manner of creature has my two best former apprentices so thoroughly rattled.”
“We’re not rattled,” Tavi protested.
The basket tipped over.
Chiara tumbled out in a tangle of white scales and oversized wings, rolling across the wooden floor before springing upright with a triumphant chirp. The dragonling shook themself off, then immediately bounded toward the most interesting new thing in the room: the massive tiger standing in the center of it.
To Lin’s credit, he didn’t flinch. His eyes widened fractionally behind his spectacles, and one paw drifted instinctively toward the short staff strapped to his back, but he held perfectly still as Chiara circled his legs, sniffing with great interest at his boots.
“That,” Lin said quietly, “is a dragon.”
“Yes,” Bria confirmed.
“A very young dragon.”
“Yes.”
“A hatchling, in fact,” Tavi offered. “We were there when they hatched. Well, Bria was. I was more nearby when it happened.”
Chiara completed their inspection of Lin’s boots and sat back on their haunches, tilting their head as they peered up at the tiger with curious, intelligent eyes. Lin crouched slowly, bringing himself closer to eye level with the dragonling. For a long moment, tiger and dragon regarded each other in silence.
Then Chiara sneezed, and a small puff of smoke emerged from their nostrils.
“Their name is Chiara,” Bria said, drawing the bemused gaze of Lin. “They told us. Well, they said it. It’s the only word they’ve spoken so far, but they definitely understand more than they can say.”
“Hello, Chiara,” Lin said softly. His gaze lifted to meet Bria’s, then Tavi’s. “I assume there’s quite a story behind how you came to be traveling with a stolen dragon egg.”
“We didn’t steal them!” Bria said quickly.
“I didn’t say you did,” Lin replied, his tone gentle. “But someone did. Dragons don’t abandon their young, and they certainly don’t lose track of their eggs.” He straightened, still watching Chiara, who had begun investigating his satchel with great interest. “Tell me everything.”
They did. Bria led the account, with Tavi interjecting details. Lin listened without interrupting, his expression growing more serious as the story unfolded—the mayor’s request, the ambushed caravan, the cultist camp, the crate marked fragile, the egg cracking open, Chiara’s rapid growth and surprising intelligence.
“We know we need to return them to their parents,” Bria finished. “We just... we’re not sure how. Or where to even start looking.”
“That crate could have come from anywhere,” Tavi chimed in. “The merchants might know, but we don’t know if they knew where the egg came from, or how they even got it in the first place, or what their intentions are.”
“Perhaps they didn’t even know what they had,” Lin mused. “It seems odd they would ask journeyfolk Scurryers to retrieve such a thing.”
“They just said they lost some valuable cargo in the woods, and that they were still recovering and didn’t have the spare paws to send folks to find it,” Bria offered.
“We should still ask them about it,” Tavi said. “The question I have is whether we confront them with what we know.”
“I think you might have more pressing matters than the merchants and their intentions,” Lin said softly. He’d removed his spectacles and nibbled gingerly on the temple tip, his brow furrowed in thought. “Dragons grow quickly in their first weeks of life. The longer Chiara is away from their parent, the more dangerous the situation becomes.”
“Dangerous how?” Bria asked, though she suspected she knew the answer.
“Dragon parents can sense their young across great distances,” Lin explained, replacing his spectacles. “It’s an old magic, deeper than the arcane arts we animals practice. When a dragon’s offspring goes missing, they know. And they will search. Tirelessly. Destructively, if necessary.” His amber eyes were grave. “If they believe their child has been harmed or stolen, there isn’t a force in the Known Woods that could stand against their fury.”
Bria snuck a glance at Tavi, who was looking away in a clear attempt not to give Bria the I told you so glare. “Well [fuck],” he said instead.
“’Well [fuck]’, indeed.” Lin looked down at the dragonling, who had successfully opened his satchel and was now pulling out a wrapped bundle of something that smelled distinctly like dried fish. “Though I suspect Chiara’s parent already knows something is wrong. The question is whether they know where to look.”
“That’s... not comforting,” Tavi muttered.
Chiara managed to tear open the package, and their eyes lit up with delight at the discovery of the fish inside. They chirped happily and began devouring their prize.
“Those were expensive,” Lin said mildly, but he made no move to stop them. Instead, he turned his full attention to Bria and Tavi. “You were right to want to return Chiara to their family. It’s not just the Scurryer thing to do. It’s the only sensible course of action.” He paused, then added, “It’s also extraordinarily dangerous.”
“We know,” Bria said.
“Do you?” Lin’s voice sharpened slightly, taking on the tone he’d used during their apprenticeship when he wanted them to truly think about something. “You’ll be traveling into unknown territory, possibly far beyond the edges of the Known Woods. And all the while, you’ll be caring for a creature that will grow larger and more powerful with each passing day—a creature whose very presence might attract attention you don’t want.”
“We’ve already got our scent all over this,” Tavi said quietly. “Literally and figuratively. If Chiara’s parent is tracking them down, they’ll find traces of us anyway. I’d rather have the chance to explain that we were helping.”
“And it’s the right thing to do,” Bria added firmly. “The handbook says—”
“I know what the handbook says,” Lin interrupted, but he was smiling. “I helped write parts of it, remember?” The smile faded into something more thoughtful. “You’re both right, of course. Which is why I’m going to help you.”
“You are?” Bria’s ears perked up.
“I’ll speak to Vanik,” Lin said. “I’ll explain the situation and request that your next official delivery be the safe return of Chiara to their parents. It’s unusual, certainly, but not without precedent. We’ve handled live deliveries before, though admittedly never anything quite like this.”
“Will Vanik approve it?” Tavi asked.
Lin’s whiskers twitched. “Vanik trusts my judgment. And I trust both of you. You were two of the finest apprentices I ever trained.” He looked at them each in turn. “You have good instincts, strong skills, and most importantly, you understand that being a Scurryer isn’t just about following the rules. It’s about doing what’s right, even when it’s difficult.”
Warmth bloomed in Bria’s chest at the praise.
Chiara, having finished the fish, waddled over to Bria and climbed up her leg with surprising agility, settling into the crook of her arm. The dragonling’s weight was noticeably heavier than even a few hours ago.
“They’re already bigger,” Lin observed. “How long since they hatched?”
“Just this afternoon,” Bria said, adjusting her hold on Chiara.
“Then we don’t have time to waste.” Lin moved to the back of the office, where the Speaking Stone sat on a small pedestal. The smooth, oval stone pulsed with a faint inner light: one of the few pieces of expensive magical infrastructure even small Scurryer offices maintained. “I’ll contact Vanik tonight. With any luck, by morning you’ll have your official assignment and whatever resources the guild can spare.”
“Thank you, Master Lin,” Bria said quietly.
“And sorry to ruin your vacation,” Tavi quipped.
The tiger paused, one paw hovering over the Speaking Stone. He turned back to them, his expression softer than before.
“You don’t need to thank me,” he said. “You’re doing exactly what Scurryers should do: delivering something precious to where it belongs, no matter how difficult the journey.” His smile returned, warm and encouraging. “Besides, someone needs to keep you two out of trouble. Might as well be me.”
“We don’t get into that much trouble,” Tavi protested.
Bria looked pointedly at the dragon in her arms, then at the gnawed corner of the front counter, then at the toppled basket and scattered contents of Lin’s satchel.
“Okay,” Tavi amended. “We don’t get into that much trouble on purpose.”
Lin laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that filled the small office. “Come. I’ll make that call to Vanik, and you two return to the tavern and take your rest. And, maybe take a larger basket for our friend. It was a good instinct to try to keep them from curious eyes and gossiping tongues.”
As they gathered up Chiara and their scattered belongings, Bria caught Tavi’s eye. He gave her a small nod and that crooked grin she’d come to rely on. They were really doing this. They were going to return a dragon to their family—and with Lin advocating for them, they’d surely get the official support they’d likely need to pull this off.
The absurdity of it should have terrified her more than it did. Instead, with Lin’s unexpected but welcome steady presence beside them and Chiara’s warm weight in her arms, Bria felt only a curious sense of rightness.
Tavi approached with a larger basket he found, complete with shoulder straps so it could be worn as a backpack, and Bria gently placed Chiara inside, giving them a reassuring pat. She went to lift the basket, but Tavi already was shouldering it. Bria looked back to Lin who was repacking his spilled satchel. “Are you also staying at the tavern, Master Lin? Shall we meet you at your room in the morning?”
“I am not, but I can come find you at your rooms tomorrow and we can make our plans from there. The less exposure Chiara has to others, the lower the risk. Shall we say, at noon? I’ll have some things to take care of before then.”
“Yes, Master,” Bria said.
Lin smiled. “You are journeyfolk on your own rights now, Bria. You can just call me Lin.”
“I… I will try,” Bria stammered, blushing.
With that, Bria and Tavi pushed out the door of the Scurryers and tromped back into the snow.
🐭
Working With My Brain Instead of Fighting It
For those who don’t know, I also write a weekly webcomic. Last week’s comic, uh, might have been about my work on this novel.
Astute friends also may have noticed my last update was a little over two weeks ago. I had done some plotting and story planning, gotten all excited to make some focused progress on the next few story beats… and then gotten hit with a bevy of distractions and disappointments that derailed my roughly 2 month streak of bite-sized but consistent progress.
So I decided to call a spade a spade a break a break, officially told my brain I’m taking two weeks off… and promptly wrote 3000ish words (and then some) this past weekend.
Earlier in my writing practice, I might’ve fallen into a guilt spiral of not “locking in” on my daily word count. But I’ve learned that instead of spending time beating myself up, I should just focus on finding ways to re-engage my id brain in ways that get it excited to do the thing again.
Oh—also in typical Yichao fashion, I procrastinated this writing project with… another writing project. Keep an eye on this space for something new. 💙✨