The carmine Guardian jolted, rearing up. The glass jar, previously filled to the brim with green goo, shuddered from the removal of the newly-grown dragon’s snout. Green goo covered one nostril.

Safe and Zone just stared. Winse wasn’t sure what to do. Betes…wasn’t around. She hadn’t been around in a while.

“…Hi?” Malar chirped, blinking innocently.

“Winse never got into this much trouble before,” Zone noted, watching Safe scrub her grandson’s snout with a stray linen scrap.

“The Coliseum isn’t that much trouble?” Winse challenged.

“…Never mind,” Zone muttered.

Malar’s snout was safely scrubbed clean and the jar of slime was stowed away into the hoard. Safe sighed before telling him to leave objects in the hoard alone.

So Malar wandered to the nest at the back of the lair, watching the goo hiss and bubble around the three slimy eggs.

“When will they hatch, grandma?”

“Soon, Malar, soon,” Safe said.

Malar perched there and watched them. He hoped they were more like uncle Losis than mom. Mom was…weird. She was never there.

Malar wished she was. He liked the thought of having a mother.


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