Growing Pains: Chapter 1

“Asking me why I care about the wellbeing of these children makes me question whether or not you are worth trusting,” Mijhael said as he walked beside Vyno down a long corridor. 

The dark-furred nightmare fell silent for a moment, as if considering his next words carefully. 

“I suppose I could have worded my question better,” Vyno said. “Children have passed through this industry, even through this very warehouse before you arrived, I’m curious why these children in particular have caught your eye.” 

Together they turned the corner in the grey, featureless hallway of the dorm. The rooms were all empty for the moment, reserved for future endeavors, Mijhael suspected. The door they wanted was the last one on the left, difficult to find and inconvenient to reach. This was the intended design, to thwart escape attempts and limit the number of drakiri who interacted with the room’s occupants. 

“Their father made an impression on me,” Mijhael admitted as they reached the room. He rapped his knuckles against the wood and turned to look at Vyno briefly. “Some of your recruits still call you a child, yet they fear you. One might think they’d need less convincing to treat children with the respect they deserve.”

“Most adults don’t think children deserve respect at all,” Vyno replied, flicking his ears derisively. “But most children don’t have a grandfather like mine. I command respect by proxy, it is not earned.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Mijhael said. “They do not respect you, they respect what your father and grandfather would rain down on them.” 

“May I be candid with you?” Vyno asked. 

“I see no reason why you can’t,” Mijhael said, shifting his weight as they waited. 

“I doubt either my father or my grandfather would do anything if something happened to me. Solpor was never going to be father of the year, and Ruin…I don’t actually know much about him. I doubt he even knows I exist, if I’m honest.” 

“You might consider that a blessing, if half the things I have heard in muttered conversations about Ruin are true,” Mijhael chuckled, though there was little in the way of true amusement to be found in his voice.

“I don’t doubt that,” Vyno said, smiling in return, though the expression did not reach his eyes. 

Finally, the doorknob turned and opened, revealing the anxious young face of a red-colored dracus. She had strikingly bright blue eyes that seemed all the more beautiful in contrast to the darker reds of her fur. Her pelt and scales would fetch a pretty penny, but anyone who tried to harvest from her would face Mijhael’s wrath.

“Good morning Alina,” Mijhael said with a respectful nod of his head. “May we come in?” 

He watched the young dracus puzzle over what the proper and polite response would be. Eventually, she returned the nod and looked between Mijhael and Vyno.

“Do you have news about our dad?” she asked. “Is he back yet?” 

“Not yet,” Vyno said. “Galabastarin is vast and much of it is yet to be explored. I imagine he will send word soon.” 

Alina’s face fell and it was impossible to miss the disappointment in her eyes. 

“How is Mila?” Vyno pressed, wanting to keep her focused so she would let them in. If she declined access, they would not force the issue. 

“He’s still mad,” Alina sighed. “He doesn’t understand why Dad wouldn’t take us with him. I kind of wonder the same. He took us everywhere with him before, but now he has this important mission so we have to stay with you? It doesn’t seem fair.” 

“Where your father has gone and what he is doing of the utmost importance, it’s no place for children,” Mijhael said. The indignant flash in her eyes prompted him to continue, “Your father trusted us with your care and wellbeing, and we intend to honor his trust. You are young, but you are smart. Surely you understand he has only the best in his heart for you and your brother. He’ll be back soon.” 

“You said that last time,” Alina sighed, turning away to walk farther into the room and leaving the door open. 

Vyno and Mijhael stepped into the room and closed the door behind them. It was no ordinary room, it held the square footage of four of the normal sized rooms, having had the walls knocked down so the children would have plenty of room to move around and run if they liked. Alina even had room to fly if she so chose. On one end of the room there were two beds set into the floor so the top of the beds were flush with the concrete; they were comfortable, with full sets of sheets and multiple pillows. On the other side of the room, a television—something sourced from a human settlement--had been installed on one wall, large enough to see the pictures well and play the electronic games provided. Mijhael had never once seen the screen turn on in the video feed from the cameras installed on the ceiling. None of the newer technologies seemed to appeal to the children, but books—those were another story. 

Half of one of the longest walls were covered by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, rows and rows of books had been provided. The children read them almost as fast as Mijhael could bring them, and he was both annoyed and amazed by their voracious appetites for learning. 

“I want you two to be comfortable, this may not be your home, but I can at least try to offer you things that will make your stay more comfortable,” Mijhael said, moving to stand closer to the bed where Alina had retired. Mila—a young, pale sapphire kainu without any impressive markings and a short mane--also lay in his bed, mostly covered by his blanket, his nose tucked under one of his knees. He wasn’t asleep though, which was evident by the twitching of his ears as he listened to what they said. 

“We don’t have a home,” Alina said as she settled on her bed and reached out to run her fingers down one of her whiskers, smoothing the short fur there with her thumb and forefinger. “Dad always said home was where you made it, not any one place.” 

Mila’s head snapped up and his yellow eyes opened, glaring up at Mijhael and Vyno where they stood as he spat, “Home is where Dad is!” 

“Mila, don’t be so rude,” Alina admonished her brother.

“Shut up,” Mila said nastily as he looked away. 

“I imagine it’s difficult being away from your father,” Vyno said, stepping over to stand to the side of Mila’s bed. The child was small for his age, his horn hadn’t even erupted yet, but he had golden yellow eyes that missed nothing. 

“Your father must be very wise, to tell you such things,” Vyno continued, leaning forward to brush his muzzle against Mila’s brow. Their father had told them how important physical touch was to the children, but they had been—rightly—skittish about being touched by strangers. “Would you like to go outside? It should be warm enough for the pool in a few hours. I know how much you like swimming.” 

“No,” Mila said, turning and moving to the other side of the bed so Vyno couldn’t reach him. “I don’t want to swim.” 

“Then you don’t have to,” Vyno said, demonstrating patience beyond what Mijhael would have expected from someone his age. 

“Alina, may I speak with you?” Mijhael asked, tilting his head toward the circular table in the corner of the room, not too far from the television and untouched game systems. 

“Sure,” the dracus said, following him away from the bed. They sat across from one another, without chairs but with their arms resting on the table. It was a formality mostly, but also gave Mijhael a place to put his clipboard. 

“The drakiri who brings your meals told me one of the plates has hardly been touched,” he said, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t interrupt the one-sided conversation Vyno was having with Mila across the room. “Is Mila eating?” 

Alina shifted uncomfortably and looked away from him as she fidgeted with her whiskers. 

“Yeah he’s eating,” she said after a long moment. 

Mijhael waited patiently to see if she would elaborate, but when she didn’t, he thought he understood why. 

“You’re not, though, are you?” he said gently. 

She looked down at the table, studiously avoiding looking at him as she shook her head. At least she had been taught not to lie. Children at this age made terrible liars, they were too fidgety and unaware of themselves. 

“Is something the matter? Do you feel unwell?” he asked, readying himself to have to pry for the information. He uncapped his pen and poised it over the paper attached to his clipboard to take notes as he studied her demeanor. He found children tiresome after a while, but he treated them well regardless. His own impatience was not their fault.

“I just—I don’t like the meat anymore,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically small. Usually she was outspoken and boisterous, so he was surprised and concerned by this change in her personality. 

“Would you prefer a different kind?” Mijhael asked. “We can get you anything you would like.” 

“N-No,” Alina stammered. “Venison is fine, I just—I don’t want it all…bloody.” 

“Oh, you would prefer it cooked?” Mijhael asked. It wasn’t unusual that drakiri preferred their meat cooked, but these two had made it quite clear they didn’t appreciate it within their first couple of meals here. It wasn’t an unreasonable request, so Mijhael would make it happen. 

Alina nodded and before Mijhael could even ask, she said, “I had a bad dream a few nights ago and…I don’t like it anymore.” 

Mijhael jotted that note down, but after a moment his pen stilled and his brow furrowed. He asked, “What was the dream about?” 

Alina glanced up at him and then back down at the table. A visible shudder passed through her. 

“I was in front of a mirror, looking at myself and for just a second, I didn’t have any skin. My horn and my ears were gone, my scales, my teeth…it was horrible.” 

Mijhael’s fingers tightened around his pen so suddenly it snapped in half, plastic bits breaking off and landing on the table. He lifted the clip on the clipboard, tucked the broken pen under the edge so he wouldn’t forget it and folded his hands in front of him for a moment as he focused on his breathing. In and out, slowly. The teeth that lined his maw clicked together as he opened and closed them, struggling to keep from growling from within. 

After that moment it took him to calm down, Mijhael reached out with his left hand to place it against Alina’s right cheek. Her brows lifted slightly before she leaned into his palm, relaxing and letting out a relieved sigh. 

“It was only a dream, dear,” he said gently. “I know you like to research, so if it would calm your mind, I could try to find some anatomy textbooks. Perhaps seeing such imagery in an academic context might put your mind at ease. You could turn it into a learning experience rather than a frightening one.” 

“Maybe,” she said, smiling up at him. “Thank you Mijha. I’ll try to get Mila back in better spirits.” 

“He has a right to be upset, let him be upset, just be open to doing things he might want to do,” Mijhael said as he took his hand back, picked up his clipboard and moved away from the table. “Come along Vyno, I think we’ve pestered poor Mila enough for one day.” 

They bid the children farewell and walked out of the room, closing the door behind them. They did not lock it—there was no need. The children believed they were safe here, and both the room and hallway were constantly monitored for movement. 

“I’m usually the one dragging you away,” Vyno said as he followed Mijhael down the hallway away from the door. 

“Someone has been influencing Alina’s dreams,”  Mijhael said, his voice steady with anger as the teeth of his maw opened and closed, hot air rasping from between them in low, deliberate breaths. 

Vyno stiffened in alarm and trotted to keep up, asking, “Galithrax?” 

“Who else could it be?” Mijhael demanded, disgust making him snappish. “I am going to have words with that rose-colored harlot.” 

“Hey, hey wait a second, you’re not going to burn the warehouse down, are you? Because you said you would, and I work and live here Mijhael!” 

Mijhael stopped in his tracks and rounded to face the nightmare, staring him down until Vyno looked away. He said in a purposefully calm and concise voice, “If I decided to burn down the world, I guarantee you could not stop me.” 

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