13. Doran
DORAN
Watching her with the kits was driving me crazy, especially after the sheriff and his deputy mate left for work, leaving us alone with the infant.
After cleaning her up, Sarah bounced Laura on her hip, singing a song about a small monetary unit and a pocketful of grain, which, along with live birds, was baked into a pie.
The birds miraculously survived somehow to sing for a king when he cut his pie.
Thankfully, the macabre song ended before he consumed the still living creatures.
Laura did not seem to understand the words, thankfully, but loved the cooing tone of Sarah’s singing voice and all the jiggles.
My gums throbbed, and a quick press from the tip of my tongue revealed the sacs were now starting to swell, the first of the venom beginning to trickle in.
I imagined claiming her, giving her my bite, and someday perhaps seeing her swell with our own kit.
I shuddered, hoping she would not sing such horrible things again, especially to one of our own.
Was this a normal human thing? Did they need to desensitize their young for high feast days where they consumed living animals?
It seemed unlikely, given their blunt teeth, that they would eat in such a manner, so perhaps it was done as a twisted form of amusement.
I made an excuse to duck into the bathroom before we went to the store as promised, and asked Bob.
“Ah, yes, well, nursery rhymes! Many of these songs and poems were made up by the kits themselves, to share observations about historical things they witnessed. Some even became games - Ring Around the Rosies is one such, with the song being about the stench of death from a terrible plague and people dropping dead. Another one has two kits holding hands facing each other, arched to resemble an overhead bridge. The other children file beneath, all while singing about an unfortunate female of importance who was locked away in one of the towers of the bridge or some such thing.”
I swallowed. “That sounds morbid.”
“Kits can be rather morbid, unintentionally,” he agreed. “But the rhymes are harmless and most today think they are merely fun nonsense.”
That relieved my mind somewhat, but I still thought that later, once we’d completed her mating, I would convey my distress over that particular song she’d been singing.
Cruelty to animals was never right, and subjecting live animals to an oven to be baked was torture.
Something that, as my perfect match, I knew she probably hadn’t thought about, if the song had been presented as fun nonsense to her since her birth.
I came out to find she’d strapped Laura into the stroller.
“It’s such a short walk, and it’s a lovely day, so I thought we could hoof it,” she said by way of explanation.
“I do not own a horse,” I replied. “Would you like me to ask about obtaining one for you to use as a pack animal? Jesse Wilson has contacts back on Earth who are helping him import his own horses as well as a herd of wild mustangs. I am certain they could acquire a suitable one and arrange for it to be brought here.”
She stared at me blankly.
“Horse?” A look of understanding crossed her face, and she giggled.
“Oh! Horse, hoof, I get it! Um, no,” she giggled.
“Hoofing it means using our own two feet. Though Emma always used to ask Santa for a pony when she was younger.” She sighed.
“I had Santa leave her a note saying he couldn’t give live animals as they required a family commitment of several years, and that caring for them was expensive.
A few months later, a co-worker’s mother had a leftover puppy that was the runt of a litter, and she asked around for her to see if anyone at work wanted a free puppy.
And that’s how we got Sweetie. She came with her first shots and microchipped even, as she’d been done with the rest. She was nearly five months old already when we got her, and her mom figured chances were slim to none that anyone would buy her.
I got her fixed two months later at a free spay/neuter clinic the city ran.
” She licked her lips. “Anyhoo, um, I just meant we could enjoy a nice walk to the store.”
I beamed at her. Her nervousness was adorable, and I felt relief that I was not the only one feeling nervous.
Family meant everything to Dragonii culturally, but my parents were not the model Dragonii they professed to be.
From the outside, our home life had looked normal.
But both of our parents were collectors of rare things.
The most exclusive memberships, the limited edition upholstery and trim for their personal vehicles, original art with few to no print reproductions.
You name it; if it was uncommon and they thought it gave them something for others to admire, they coveted it.
This was especially true when it came to their offspring.
Once they’d had our sister, they’d only had eyes for her.
Oh, they still brought up our accomplishments when asked and feigned interest publicly, but at home, my older brother and I found ourselves shoved aside.
I wanted to be better than that, and part of me was terrified that I would fail.
That we would mate, and if we had a kit together, a switch would flip, and I’d no longer see our other three human offspring.
No! I would guard against it. Their biological male parent had already hurt them in a similar manner.
I resolved to speak with Khaelor. If he ever saw me do such a thing, he was to rip my wings off.
I would rather be wingless than make a kit feel as trivial as I’d been made to feel.
But you’re getting ahead of yourself. You’ve not completed the mating, and she’s not agreed to have a kit with you. Perhaps she is content with the three she has already, and feels she will be too busy with Dragon’s Rest.
“If you’ll just grab the bottom of the stroller by the front wheels and lift it, we can carry the stroller down the steps,” she said.
“Of course,” I replied, doing so.
“Thanks.” She smiled sunnily at me and began to push the ambulatory seat along the wood effect sidewalk Bob was having the 3D printers place before every building in town as they went up.
“Will you be okay carrying whatever won't fit in the basket underneath the seat? I just want a few things. It feels weird to replicate everything I want to cook. And it was nice having the fresh eggs this morning.” She laughed. “Those sure must be some big chickens.”
“They were hop-a-long eggs,” I informed her.
“Hop-a-long eggs? You mean those rabbit kangaroo things? They lay eggs?”
I nodded. “Yes. We also can get eggs from kilt-ha. Those are much larger.”
“So, there’s no chickens, huh?”
I shook my head. “The scoutship found kilt-ha and hop-a-longs already here. There are also worms in the soil and a few types of fish, including shellfish, in the inland seas. There is not a large variety of native wildlife here, including plants, and we have to be mindful that those we do bring do not disrupt the balance the Ancients maintain.”
“Yeah, I heard about the exploding plant. So, does that lunar thing also blast animals?”
I shook my head. “No. A DNA sample of common Earth animals found in homes and on farms was brought. It was sufficient. Prior experience with other worlds they engineered let us know we were fine to screen them that way. But if an animal was not approved, it would not be destroyed, unlike the plant. A barrier would go up, and it would not be permitted to set foot upon New Haven.”
“Oh, wow. That’s wild. Um, so if common animals were scanned and approved, why no chickens?”
“No one requested any.”
“Oh. That makes sense. And here we are!” She tilted the handles back to lift the front wheels up enough to go over the door’s lip and pushed their way inside.
“This is not what I imagined an alien store to look like.” She blinked.
“Actually, I don’t know what I imagined one would look like, but this is not it. ”
“It was remodeled inside and out after Bob told us what would make humans comfortable living here,” I said.
“Right. Alien prairie planet, a need for human mates, old Earth TV shows, and voila, Walnut Grove in space.” She giggled.
Bob had obviously gotten it right, as she was filled with great happiness with everything she’d seen about our town so far. As had the other humans, from what I could tell.
I walked up to the counter. “I’m going to need whatever a human inn keeper who works in a greenhouse and orchard would wear,” I said.
“Huh? Whatever is comfortable,” she replied. “You don’t need special clothes, but if you don’t have a hat, you might want to get one to keep the sun out of your eyes while working outdoors.”
Yes, a hat.”
“You’ll need two different hats,” Kelran said from behind the counter.
“While working with growing things, you’ll want a Stetson.
Wear it with jeans and a shirt in a multicolored checkered pattern.
If you wish a coat, soft suede with a wool looking collar.
It should be brown to match your boots, and the wool white.
I have lightweight ones with the right look so you won’t become overheated. ”
“And the second hat?”
“When you are doing landlord duties. You will need pants and a shirt, and maybe a vest like I’ve got on, with different boots or shoes.
” He took off his apron to show his ensemble.
“If you need to be formal, you wear a little thing called a bowtie." He touched the one at his throat. “I have one on not because we have to be formal, but because it’s part of the shopkeeper look, like my apron. And the hat is one of these.” He took out a round hat with a short brim all the way around it. “It’s called a bowler, though it’s not worn when playing a game they call bowling. They don’t wear special hats for that.”
Sarah had sucked her lips in and looked as if she was trying to not laugh.
“Is something the matter?” Kelran asked her.
“No, no, no. You’ve got that Mr. Olsen vibe locked down tight. I’m, I’m just having a great time taking it all in. The frontier was a long time ago for us, you know.”
“Only because your species is shorter-lived," he answered.
“What? How long do Dragonii live?” She held her hand up. “Wait, don’t answer that.”
“Once I claim you, my venom will tie our lifespans together,” I told her, understanding immediately how she’d thought to spare me from thinking about having to be without her someday, for many long years, as humans lived so much shorter lives.
“Say what now?”
“Perhaps you should discuss this at home later,” Kelran suggested.
She pointed a finger at me. “As soon as we get home, mister.”
I nodded, happy to oblige, though confused as to why she suddenly seemed unnerved.
It had to be the mention of venom. She must fear my bite would cause her pain.
I would be able to reassure her that this was not the case.
It would bring us both ecstasy, but Kellran was right.
This was not the place to bring up such matters.
“I will take your advice,” I told Kelran. “I will need enough that we will not need to clean them every day, even if I have to change into both types of clothing.”
Kelran rubbed his hands together. “Don’t you worry! I’ll soon get you sorted out!”