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Entry 116 - Earlier

Bronwen's head hurt.

She found herself laid out quite comfortably on an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. It was white.

She felt a little woozy. A lot woozy, actually. She wondered what had happened.

"Are you awake?" came a soft, familiar voice.

Bronnie turned her head slightly. She blinked at the man a little bit. "Yes."

"Do you remember me? You haven't seen me since you were really little. Since before you could look like this." He smiled shyly.

"You're a little familiar," Bronnie admitted.

"My name's Atiao. You used to call me Hayo, since you couldn't say my name right." He grinned wider.

"Oh. I remember you now. You got hurt and I took care of you."

A'o laughed, a quiet and nervous sort of laugh. "And now I'm taking care of you. You had a nasty bump on your head. How do you feel?"

"My head hurts," she pouted. "Is this your house?"

"Not really. It used to be." He looked troubled, but shrugged and changed the subject. "I can get you something to eat, if you want. There's some turkey soup I can get for you."

"Okay..."

Atiao squeezed Bronnie's shoulder. "You just keep quiet and try to feel better. I'm sure everything will work out soon."

"I want Mum."

He winced. "I think she's going to be here soon."

Entry 117 - Still earlier

"She'll be fine," Atiao reported. "She's a little woozy, but I don't think she's got a serious concussion."

Dymin Ekeli nodded firmly, once. "Good. I don't suppose having her out of commission at this point would be useful."

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Momma? She's just a kid. She's, uh, not even fully dragon."

"Are you doubting me?" Dymin turned a diamond-hard gaze upon her eldest son. "Need I remind you that you are on probation, Atiao? I have welcomed you back into the fold. If you were not my son, I would have done no such thing."

"You're right, I'm sorry, Momma," A'o said quickly. "I... I didn't think."

Dymin snorted. "Fine, fine. Forget it."

"I... I think I'd like to go out and get some air, Momma. If that's okay."

"Fine, fine. No, wait." Dymin stopped A'o with a firm hand on his shoulder. "You have something on your face." Without pause, she licked a thumb and rubbed it off.

A'o withered. "Momma, I'm twenty-two."

"So?"

"... never mind." A'o avoided his mother's gaze, and slipped off. He grabbed his coat, and his boots, and stepped out into the cold. His breath steamed in the air, and he shivered as he walked out into the trees.

His mother had caught up with him.

There was no arguing with her. She had declared that he was returning to the family, in disgrace, but because of her own generosity, he'd have a second chance, and she would defend him from the family's allies. A'o hadn't been able to argue, and was content with being simply grateful that she did not, as yet, know where his little brother was.

It was turning out all wrong.

She'd known where Sunny and her family was, and for quite a long time. A'o wasn't sure who had told her, though he felt sure someone had, but she had been simply biding her time for quite a while. He didn't think she knew he had stayed there, though.

She had crowed quite happily at the fortuitous circumstances in which she'd found Bronnie.

It all made A'o feel quite sick.

He'd have to leave, of course, before she declared to him that he was going to do something he really didn't want to do. With Sunny coming soon, he felt that'd be soon. Yet, Dymin had been watching him too closely for him to make a break for it.

He was trapped.

What was Sunny going to think, anyway?

There was a soft crunch of snow underfoot behind A'o; he spun as a skinny and startlingly underdressed youth jumped on him. "A'o! Ils viennent ici! Ils viennent ici maintenant! Je les sens!" In his excitement, he kissed A'o on the cheek.

"Stop that," A'o said irritably. He pushed Thyre off, and the werewolf laughed. "English. You're speaking French."

"I was? Oh. They're coming. I can smell dragon on the air! The wind is thick with it."

"They found their way here alone?" A'o blinked. "This is... this is good. I guess. It completely ruins Momma's plans."

"You never thought Sunny and Ray would sit around doing nothing, did you?" Thyre was practically dancing with his excitement. "Madness! Oh, it's wonderful!"

"Calm down. For a second, please," A'o pleaded. "Momma knows you're here?"

"Her?" He grinned. "Nah. She thinks she's aware of things, but she's not going to pay attention to a few scraggly wolves in the woods."

"Helos?"

"Helos is fine. No one but me and Kye know where he is. I'm not saying anything, and Kye's with him. No one to tell!"

Vague plans began to coagulate in A'o mind. "Thyre, listen a sec. Go find Sunny. Tell her Bronnie's safe, nothing's happened to her but a bump on the head, she'll be fine. But she's got to get here soon. Momma's planning things for her, and she won't tell me anything, but it can't be good."

Thyre nodded. "D'accord. I can do that."

"And... if you could tell them I haven't really betrayed them?"

The werewolf smirked. "A'o, ami... Ray doesn't like you anyway and Sunny would forgive you anything. But I'll tell them." He shifted shape abruptly and loped off into the woods.

A'o shivered. "What a mess," he mumbled, and headed back to the house.

Entry 120

Sunny lay her hand on the front door, shivering.

For a moment, she couldn't move.

She tried the doorknob. It was unlocked; she stepped inside, and closed the door behind her.

"Who's that?" came a woman's voice. "Atiao, is that you?"

Sunny met her gaze. For a moment which seemed much longer than it really was, neither moved nor spoke.

Dymin Ekeli snarled. "You dare come into this house--"

"Stop. I'm not here to fight. I'm not even here as a representative of my species. I am here," Sunny's voice broke, "as a mother. As one mother to another. Please give me back my daughter."

Dymin took a few steps forward. Sunny leaned back against the door. "You. I owe you nothing. Your kind has killed my brother, my father, and one of my sisters."

"But I haven't."

"Only because you never had the chance."

"Self defence."

"It was a pre-emptive attack."

"I'm not even living as a dragon. I've adopted a human form, human customs. Do you not understand what a sacrifice that is for me?" Sunny clenched her fists.

"A sacrifice?" Dymin scoffed.

"Do you think I ever had to worry about mortgage payments before? About bills and grocery shopping? I converted everything of any value in my hoard to legal tender long ago. It keeps me going, yes, but for my kind, that hurts. That hurts a lot."

"Greed," she snapped. "Raw, justfied greed."

"We appreciate beauty. Fine art."

"Misers."

"Can you do anything but attack me?" Sunny wailed. "I'm not here to argue culture, or debate beliefs. I'm here for my daughter. Please. She hasn't done anything to you. She's a child. She's not even fully dragon. Surely you have to realise that."

"I realise that. I have every intention of nuturing her humanity," Dymin smiled.

Sunny stared. "You're not saying--you couldn't--my child--"

"Your kind took my son," Dymin snapped. "Why should I not reciprocate?"

"... what are you talking about?" Sunny spoke uneasily.

"Helos. Tell me where Helos is. If you haven't killed him."

Her heart thumped, while Sunny struggled for something to say. "I have no idea!" she choked out at last.

"You know something." Dymin narrowed her eyes. "You've seen him."

Sunny had never been a good liar. She mumbled.

"Tell me!"

"I don't know where he is," she whispered. "I met him once. He seemed happy. None of us had anything to do with anything he did. I swear to you."

"Liar!"

"I don't lie. I don't know where he is. Please. Can we stop yelling at each other? This is pointless. Give me my daughter. I'll... leave this area. I'll go so far you might as well consider me dead. My entire household. We'll pack up, and leave. Maybe even leave Gaia. Please. Give me Bronnie back."

"No."

"Dammit, why not? Name one thing that I, personally, have ever done to you!"

"You personally, nothing, perhaps." Dymin narrowed her eyes. "But I was born into this livelihood."

"That doesn't mean a thing."

"It means everything. Your kind has been a blight upon the world for far too long."

"My kind," Sunny ranted suddenly, "existed before your ancestors were anything more than rodents. We left our own world to escape you. We gave up a world that had been ours long before the first apes appeared, because of you people. We're a dying race. We're nearly gone. And you still can't leave us alone?!"

"Not until I've destroyed every last one of you," was the deadpan response. Dymin drew something from her belt. "And I know very well there is not enough room in here for you to transform." She held a long knife, sharp and deadly, and the friction as it pulled from its sheath released a sour smell into the air.

"Dragonsbane," Sunny whispered. She paled.

"You didn't think I wouldn't be prepared in the unlikely event that you could find me?"

A sudden movement in the doorway to the kitchen caused them both to stop and stare.

Atiao stared back. One hand rested upon the hilt of a sword, sheathed and strapped to his side.

Entry 121

Dymin broke the stillness. "Kill her!" she shrieked at Atiao. "You have your sword!"

Reflexively, he drew it; it was a large, two-handed broadsword, serrated near the point, kept sharp enough to cut through the tough scales of a dragon, and heavy enough to do damage if it didn't. Realising what he'd done, he stumbled, hesitated, glancing between the two women.

"What are you waiting for?!"

Sunny leapt away from the door, shifting as she moved. A'o sword clattered to the ground as she reached him. Her left hand had shifted from ordinary hand to silver-scaled claws, poised at A'o throat.

He swallowed audibly. Sunny gritted her teeth.

"Not one move," she warned them. "Either of you."

"You let him go," Dymin hissed.

"You bring me my daughter. One child for another. Fair that way?"

"You monster."

"I could say the same. You make one move to attack me, or to hurt Bronnie, and your eldest is worm food. Do it."

"I didn't," A'o gasped out.

"Shut up," Sunny warned him.

Dymin shot her a look of pure loathing, and left the room.

"I didn't betray you," he whispered.

"I know," she whispered back. "You do realise I'm bluffing, right?"

"...oh."

"Just keep on looking scared."

Entry 122

Presently, Dymin returned, leading Bronnie by the hand. Bronwen had the foggy-eyed look of someone who had, until very recently, been asleep.

"Let him go," Dymin urged.

"Bronnie first," Sunny insisted.

Neither moved.

"I suppose," Dymin snapped, "we'll be standing here until the sky falls?"

"I don't trust you."

"Neither do I."

"Mum," Bronnie yawned, "I lost my necklace. I didn't mean to."

"It's okay, hon. It's in my pocket. I'll give it to you when we get home."

At this moment, the door swung open, and Ray and Thyre stumbled in, their clothes shedding snow onto the carpet.

"You!" Ray shouted, and began to move forward.

"Don't be a fool!" Sunny shrieked at him. "Don't move!"

Thyre peered from around Ray, blinking.

In the confusion, Dymin had picked up her dagger from where it lay; Bronnie whimpered as the grip on her arm tightened.

"I must admit," the woman said quietly, "that I do not know how strongly dragonsbane will affect a half-dragon. Should we experiment?"

"Please. Please don't," Sunny whispered. Bronwen burst into tears.

"Then let my son go."

Sunny drew back her arm, reshaping it into a more human limb. A'o stepped away from her.

"Now let Bronnie go."

"And why should I do that?"

"We had a deal!" Sunny screamed.

Dymin grinned. She let go of Bronwen's arm, and Bronnie ran to her mother, hugging Sunny around the legs tightly.

"Shhh," Sunny soothed her. "Everything is going to be okay. I promise." She looked up at Dymin. "Who told you where we were?"

"Why should I tell you? Atiao!" She turned to her son with an imperious snap in her voice. "You know where my sword is."

"What makes you think we can't just leave?" Ray snarled.

"This ends now," Dymin said. "You run, I follow. You hide, I find. I will catch up to you. Save us all some time and face this now. Atiao!"

A'o hadn't moved. "Um. Momma, I--"

"What?!"

"I don't want to."

Dymin gazed hatefully at Sunny for a moment before advancing upon her son; Sunny and Ray exchanged looks.

Thyre put a hesitant finger to his lips. "Mon dieu." He bent down to Bronnie's eye level. "Bronnie? Don't cry."

"We're all going to die," Bronnie whimpered, unheard beneath the four adults (minus Thyre) yelling at each other.

"Nah, not us. You want to help?"

"Um."

"When I was visiting before, I saw you move the shadows."

"I didn't."

"Sure you did."

Bronwen blinked at him. "Mum said my fire... my fire came out of the shadows. I don't know what she meant. I'm not supposed to play with it."

"Bronnie," Thyre grinned at her, "even better. You make some fire and shadows come, everyone gets scared, and we can run away."

"But, I'm not s'pposed to."

"This is pretty important."

Bronwen bit her lip. She looked up at the walls. The shadows under her gaze flickered, flamelike. Was he right? Was she the one doing that?

She doubted this very much, but it might be possible.

But she remembered how she'd brough the fire down to light the candles.

She closed her eyes, and thought of fire.

She opened her eyes again to a shriek; the curtains and the carpet and the furniture were on fire.

"Let's go! Now!" Thyre yelled, and it despite the surprise of hearing an order from him, everyone obeyed. Ray scooped up Bronnie. Sunny ran back a few steps, seized A'o by the arm, and ran him out the door.

The house was burning fiercely by the time they stopped running, gasping in the snow.

Entry 126

Bronnie slunk up to the breakfast table and rested her chin on the placemat. "Mummmm."

"Don't whine at me." Sunny turned. "Oh, Bronwen."

Bronnie was in her draconic shape. "I woke up like this. And I itch."

"I'm not surprised." Sunny couldn't help but scratch a few flakes of skin and scales off Bronnie's nose. "You're shedding again. Getting bigger."

"I didn't itch when I looked the other way."

"Yes, well, as long as you insist on not letting me show you how to shift on purpose, you're sort of stuck, aren't you? Besides, it might be best to just let yourself finish shedding."

"But I itch!"

"You know where the cream is," Sunny advised. "Can't really help other than that."

Bronwen made a rude noise and ran off on all fours.

Entry 127

Bronwen slunk up to her mother and laid a scaly chin on Sunny's knee. "I don't like being itchy."

"I don't blame you." Sunny did not look up from her book.

"I want to stop being itchy."

"Well, I suppose if you were willing to try shapeshifting again, it wouldn't be so much of a problem."

"But it hurts."

"Can't argue with that." Sunny replaced her bookmark and set the book aside. "Unfortunately, it's that or go have a bath or find the cream."

"The cream smells funny."

"But it works, doesn't it?"

"Yeah." Bronnie sighed heavily. "But... but mum... I really don't want to do it on purpose. It hurts too much. And... and... and I can't. I don't want to do it."

Sunny sighed, too, rubbing the back of her daughter's neck to take some of the loose scales off. "Well, you're almost done shedding. You're just growing. That's all."

"Do you shed, ever?"

"Sometimes. Not very often. I'm too old to have to shed a whole lot."

"And what do you do?"

"I crawl into the basement and suffer," Sunny laughed. "Honestly, being anything other than dragon-shaped when I have scales to shed gets under my skin like anything."

Bronwen snorted. "So I hafta stay looking like this?"

Sunny blinked. "Oh, honey. You're very pretty."

"You're my mum and you have to say that," Bronnie complained. "But no one else looks like this. If I go play with the other kids when I look like this, if they don't know me, they might be scared. So I'm going to hide until I don't look like this anymore."

"No. No no no no. Bronnie, you have two faces. That's all." Sunny tilted Bronnie's chin up towards her. "You shouldn't ever be unhappy with what you are. Is Cyrus scared of you?"

"Well... no..."

"See? He knows better. He knows that you're still the same inside, no matter what you look like. Right?"

"But... but..." Bronnie fidgeted. "But, mum, you don't look like what you really look like. Hardly ever."

"That's because I wouldn't fit in the house." Sunny grimaced. "Do you want to give shapeshifting another try?"

With a sigh, the dragonling nodded. "Well, okay. If I hafta."

Entry 128

Bronnie and Sunny sat in the basement. Sunny sat in a sort of lazy-lotus position, and Bronwen sat on her haunches opposite her. A hazy sort of scent from a jar of scented rose oil filled the room; it was some sort of aromatherapy supposed to help with relaxation. Sunny had sort of a love-hate relationship with aromatherapy, but if something seemed to work, she was hardly one to deny it just because it had been claimed by people whom she saw as slightly flaky.

"Try not to fidget," Sunny advised. "You're nervous, and that'll make it worse. Just try to calm down."

"I am calm," Bronnie argued.

"Take a deep breath. Just relax. Spread yourself out, imagine yourself the way you look the rest of the time. It's just a sort of stretching. You do this all the time in your sleep."

"I can't," she whimpered.

"Yes, you can. Reach down into yourself, and stretch out. You know how to do this."

For a moment, Bronwen's features seemed to waver like melting wax. Her scales started to fade. As her bone structure started to change, she stopped and burst into tears; Bronnie threw herself, still very much a dragon, onto her mother's lap. "It hurts too much."

"Shh. It's okay." Sunny was watching the shadows on the wall. They were flickering, fire-like, dancing by the dim light of the 60-watt bulb. "We can stop, if you want. I just wanted you to try."

"I tried, and I don't like it," Bronwen stated stubbornly.

The door at the top of the stairs opened. "Uh, Ali?"

"What's up, Ray?"

"Um... Amano got into the liquor cabinet."

A variety of scenarios flashed through Sunny's mind, none of them particularly pleasant. "... But it's locked."

"I know, but he got into it anyway. Could you come give me a hand with him?"

Sunny hugged and kissed Bronwen, and ran up the stairs to go deal with the latest crisis.

Entry 132

"I wanna get my ears pierced."

Sunny peered over her book. "You do?"

"Yes."

"Where'd this come from?"

"I really wanted to, for a long time, and I asked Uncle Ray first and he said to ask you and--"

"Bronwen."

"Yes?"

"Why did you ask Uncle Ray first?"

"I thought he'd say yes."

Sunny peered at her daughter. It occurred to her that Bronwen wasn't exactly a small child anymore. "You do realise that piercing hurts. A lot."

"You did it. Three times."

She pursed her lips. "Fine. Fine. Fair enough."

"Please, mum? I'm old enough. I really am."

"I suppose you are. Um. Let me think about it, okay?"

Entry 133

"Pierced ears. Ha."

Ray looked at his pacing sister with a smirk. "See? You're getting progressively more maternal. You'll turn into some fat old lady with an apron who never comes out of the kitchen."

"That is not funny." She scowled. "Maybe you should go have a kid and see how you react."

"Uh, nope. Not happening."

Sunny huffed and sat down. "She isn't so young, anymore. And I suppose lots of kids get their ears pierced when they're younger than Bronnie. Oh, I don't know."

"Do you really want my two cents, Ali?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I would say, let her do it. She's young enough that a piercing will still grow in and heal eventually."

Sunny gave him a look. "You're such a good influence, Uncle Ray."

"Hey, I'm serious," Ray protested. "It's just earrings."

Entry 134

The piercer--was there a better term for that job? Sunny had no idea--carefully drew two small X's in ink on Bronwen's earlobes, and inspected them.

He looked expectantly at Sunny. She shrugged. "Looks okay."

Bronnie giggled. "Can I see?"

He fetched a mirror and held it up. "Good?"

"Why did you draw on me?"

"So I know where to pierce."

"Oh."

The piercer was a thin and ghostly-looking young man of indeterminable age, certainly not human although Sunny had no idea what he might be. He moved very slowly, very carefully, and she found this very reassuring for some reason.

He picked up the piercing punch and showed it to Bronwen. "This is what we're going to use. We put the little earring in, and then we put it on your ear, and it pierces. Are you nervous?"

"No," Bronwen insisted.

"Now, as for the earrings. Which ones did you want?"

"I wanted the gold ones," she said. She swung her legs.

Sunny had been surprised by that. Faced with a selection of studs set with faux-birthstones, Bronwen had picked the gold ones after a great deal of thought. She had taken long enough that one of the other workers in the store (not the polite young man who was puttering around, getting ready) had started to become visibly irritated.

"I'll be able to wear lots of other earrings later on, right?" Bronwen had asked.

"Of course," Sunny had returned, "as soon as your ears get better."

And Bronwen had looked them over one more time and picked the gold ones, just like that.

"Can you hold really still for me?" asked the attendant.

Bronwen nodded. "Yes," and she froze in the chair, holding her breath.

Clack.

She had winced violently, and she stared up at her mother with wide eyes, her mouth slightly agape.

"Ow," she said, slightly shocked.

The young man (who, doubtlessly had some experience with surprised children) swooped down on the mirror and held it up. "Can you see that? That looks very pretty."

Bronnie looked, and grinned. "Are you going to do the other one now?"

"In just a minute."

And, soon enough...

Clack.

Again, Bronnie jumped in her seat, but the earring went in straight. The attendant let her look in the mirror while Sunny paid.

They left the shop, Bronnie almost skipping along. "It hurt," she confided to her mother, "but not a whole lot. I'm too old to cry over things like that."

Sunny grinned. "Now, remember, I said you have to clean out your ears twice a day?"

"I will. I can do that. Mum," Bronnie said, beaming ear-to-ear, "I feel very grown up now."

Entry 138

Bronnie kicked along the shoreline of Bass'ken. This was a good place to go to think; sure, there were always a few people fishing, but they generally didn't pay her any mind.

She sat herself down on a log, took off her shoes, and dug her claws into the wood under her, wings-half spread for balance, and began to go through what she'd found.

A lost bracelet of glass beads, a rock with a hole in it, a bit of bright green beach glass, a small and peculiarly red piece of granite.

Bronnie sorted through them in her hands, and put them back into the bag slung over her shoulder.

Something was eating at her. She had been watching the shadows flicker on her bedroom wall just a week ago, and...

Bronnie had half-decided she had dreamt it.

"I'll prove it to myself," she said aloud. "It couldn't have been real."

She reached out and grabbed at the shadow under the log. It came away in her hands easily.

She yelped and dropped it; it slipped back into the shade beneath the log.

Bronwen took a deep breath. She hadn't dreamt it after all.

Entry 139

"Do you want me to take over?"

"Eh, I could use a rest, I guess. We'll switch in Little Fort." Sunny grinned at her brother and repositioned her hands on the wheel of the rented car.

"You can go that long?" Ray raised an eyebrow.

"I'm fine. I'm tough. Bit hungry. Glee, can you reach the cooler? Grab me some veggies to gnaw on?"

Ghlyssa blinked, roused from her thoughts as she stared out the window at the passing trees. "Oh. Oh, okay." She bent to fish around in the cooler, and passed up a little plastic bag of broccoli, carrots, cauliflower, and such.

"You should eat, too," Sunny told her. "That whole eating-for-two thing applies to you. Although at this stage it's probably more like eating-for-one-and-a-half."

"I'm not hungry," Ghlyssa said.

"I think she's still recovering from the chicken gut soup," Ray sniggered.

Ghlyssa moaned slightly; Sunny shot him a look.

This was true. While Aunt Maran and Uncle Yassik had blinked in some bemusement at Glee, they'd accepted her readily enough and offered her a generous portion of the soup Maran had become famous for: Chicken gut soup. It wasn't really made with chicken guts, exactly, but it was made with necks and hearts. Maran often didn't even bother to cut up the chicken hearts. Ghlyssa had taken one look at the heart bobbing among the vegetables, ran for the bathroom, and promptly experienced her first bout of morning sickness.

It had not been pretty.

"Try to eat, if you can keep it down," Sunny advised. "Bronnie, you want something?"

Bronwen scowled. She was scrunched in the back seat next to Ghlyssa, excruciatingly uncomfortable. Her wingspan was enough to make this exceedingly awkward. She'd managed to accidentally stab Glee in the arm with her wingspars more than a dozen times. She's apologised quickly, been forgiven quickly, and gone back to trying to find a position in which her wings wouldn't go numb. "No," she grumbled. "I'm not hungry."

"We'll be in Little Fort soon enough, we can all walk around, and we'll be home not too long after that, right?" Ray stretched in the passenger's seat.

Entry 140

Bronnie crept down the hall to her mother's bedroom, intent upon demanding a quick chat. Something along the lines of the being-able-to-pick-up-shadows thing. Seriously, that was eating at her.

"She's too young for that, Ray."

After a pause, Bronnie flattened up against the wall, and listened. Her mother and uncle were having a discussion, and she had a hunch.

"Bronnie can hardly go through life with one name, Ali. If these were the old days--"

"--but they're not the old days. I mean, yes, it was tradition then, but I can hardly send my daughter out for an outdated ceremony with the way things are."

Bronwen sat down by the door. This concerned her, and while she felt a little guilty about eavesdropping, they were talking behind her back.

"Look," Ray said reasonably. "I'm not saying you should send her now. She's still pretty young. I'm just saying you should talk about this with her so she's aware of it."

"I didn't think," Sunny moaned. "I named her in the tribal way but I never thought about how half-dragon girl would go about doing a name quest. I never think about anything."

"Just calm down," Ray urged. "There's no reason she can't."

"But... there are still people out there. We don't know what happened to Dymin. We don't know if she had accomplices. She can't disguise herself entirely, she can't defend herself, she doesn't know."

"She needs to find her name."

"I know," Sunny whimpered. "I know. I wish Eldila were here."

"So do I."

"He'd be a know-it-all but he'd at least have some helpful advice." There was a pause. "Maybe I just shouldn't say anything for a while. It'll wait until she's older."

"If you want," Ray said grudgingly.

Bronwen slipped away. She went into her bedroom, closed the door behind her, and sat down on the bed.

Well.

What the hell was a "name quest"? And why was it so important? And why wouldn't someone tell her?

Entry 144

"I'm not supposed to what?!" Bronwen stared at her mother in astonishment. "I'm not allowed to go out, now?"

Sunny sighed. "I didn't say that. I just said that it would be wiser to not leave the property while you're in dragon form."

"But... mum, what happened to not being ashamed of what I am? You used to let me go out all the time, when I was younger!"

"You were younger then, and you always had someone with you. I can't follow you around anymore, Bronnie. You're getting too old for that, and I know I have to step back." Sunny rubbed her temples. "But you're bigger than you were, and you'd be alone."

"I can take care of myself," Bronnie snapped.

"Bronwen."

Bronnie glared across the kitchen table at her mother.

"When a small dragon in the company of an adult is seen walking through Barton, asssumptions will be made. I'm sure that when you were a baby, very few people ever thought that you were my daughter. The assumption is that you are a pet." Sunny wrinkled her nose slightly, and Bronnie scowled. "You're bigger, now. You're big enough to be obviously capable of doing some serious damage."

"I wouldn't do that," Bronnie said.

"I know you wouldn't. They don't." Sunny tapped her fingers on the table. "Look at it this way. Gaia is very diverse. I think it's sort of a hub for different realities. I and Uncle Ray came from one reality. We've always known it as Earth, but it doesn't match up with what other people who claim to be from Earth say. There are more than one. In some of those Earths, dragons never existed. In others, they are extinct. In others, they existed, but were not the same as us."

"So?"

"So, those are just the other versions of Earth. In some realities, dragons are animals. Heck, you have that little puppy-dragon running around the house somewhere."

"Chibi's just... Chibi," Bronnie shrugged.

"What I'm trying to say, is that not everyone is going to look at you in your dragon form and assume that you're a sentient, thinking creature. I'm not just talking about slayers, Bronnie. I mean that some people are going to assume that you're a dangerous animal."

Bronnie sat back in her chair, her temper easing. "I... I hadn't thought of that."

"Which is why I'm glad you're working on shifting," Sunny said quickly. "That way you can go out whenever you want, still."

"That's not fair," Bronnie scowled. Her eyes flashed.

"No. It's isn't right, either. But it's true."

Entry 145

Bronwen was spread out on her bed flipping through a comic book, her wings occassionally rustling and her tail twitching from side to side. Curled up at her feet was Chibi, the little dragonet sleeping and making whimpering noises.

Absently, she twiddled her fingers and picked up a bit of shadow from under the pages between her first and second fingers. Bronnie blinked, and stared at it; she hadn't meant to do that.

She sat up, trying not to disturb Chibi, and experimentally pulled it between her fingers. It was malleable, but it felt as insubstantial as cobweb. Very peculiar.

As she focused on the bit of shadow, passing it from hand to hand, she was aware of a growing heat. Before Bronnie could properly register this, the scrap of shadow burst into flames in her hands.

She screamed and dropped it onto the carpet, where it began to burn.

"Bronnie?" Ray, alerted by her yell, peered around the half-open door, and launched into action. He grabbed at a pillow from the bed and smothered out the fire, while Bronnie cowered in shock.

Entry 146

In the bathroom, Sunny clucked her tongue soothingly as she bandaged up the palms of Bronnie's hands. She'd burned herself badly, with a second, if not third, degree burn. It was definitely blistering.

"I'm not a little kid, Mum."

"I know. But I'd like to see you bandage up your own hands." Sunny smirked. "Now. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Bronnie muttered and looked embarrassed.

"Bronwen. This is important. Please."

"Mum..." Bronnie flexed the fingers of one hand, hampered somewhat by the bandage.

"Bronnie."

The girl sighed. "I want you to watch this, Mum." She reached over to a likely bit of shadow behind the toothbrush cup, and plucked it off; it wavered a moment before she let it go.

Sunny blinked. "That's... How long have you been able to do that?"

"A while." Bronnie stared at the ground. "Mum, I thought I was going crazy. I never heard of anything like that."

"I have. It's called shadow manipulation. I've never seen it, though." Sunny sat down on the rim of the bathtub, opposite where Bronnie perched on the toilet lid. "I'd seen... since you were young, I'd seen the shadows move around you. I thought I was going crazy."

"Why can I do this?" Bronnie wailed. "You can't do it. Uncle Ray can't do it."

"... maybe your father could," Sunny murmured.

Bronnie's eyes flashed fiercely. "Who was my father?"

"Bronnie, I've said before... I wanted a baby. I went to the clinic. Your father was a sperm donor." Sunny looked uncomfortable. "I never met him, and I have no wish to."

"I know that," Bronwen waved her hand impatiently. "But you said he was human, and human's can't--"

"I haven't... I haven't been exactly honest with you," Sunny admitted. Bronwen blinked. "He was human, yes. But... the information I had said that he was human with demon tainting."

"... what does that mean?" Bronnie said in a low voice.

Sunny shook her head. "I don't really know. I never thought that would even matter."

"I'm... I'm partly a demon?" Bronnie said in amazement.

"Just a little bit. Yes."

"Demons are... are evil."

"No," Sunny said firmly. "Bronnie, I've had friends who were demons. Demons are different, yes. Some of them are nasty, and some of them are not. They're just... different."

Bronnie ploughed on anyway. "Does that make me evil, Mum? We've been going around pretending what happened with... with that slayer woman, that it never happened! It did, though. I brought the fire through the shadows, and if she's dead, I'm the one who did it! It doesn't matter that she was probably going to kill all of us. I destroyed an entire house!" She was teetering on the brink of either rage or tears, her hands clenching painfully around the bandages. The pain sent her over. Bronwen burst into tears; she buried her face in her hands, carelessly scratching herself.

Sunny took Bronnie into her arms as though she were a small girl, pulling her hands from her face. "Shhh. Bronnie, it's okay. You're not evil. You're not. You're the furthest thing from evil. Shh. Quiet now..."

Bronwen just sobbed.

Entry 147

Bronnie chewed on the end of her pen thoughtfully. Her hands were still bandaged, so when she did settle down to write, the letters were sloppy and oddly-formed.

Entry 149

Bronwen was feeling particularly low.

She had sulked around in her room for an hour or two, had moved down to the basement and sulked there, went up to the green room and sulked among the tomatoes that were maybe suffering a little from the sudden lack of Ghlyssa.

She wasn't even sure why she was sulking, if it came to that. She was annoyed at school, annoyed at the fact that her mother worked at the school (Bronnie had every intention of avoiding the library entirely), annoyed at not being able to practice this whole shadow-fire thing. Just annoyed in general.

Bronnie finally got tired of the green room and went down to the kitchen for some lunch and a good sulk.

Her mother was sitting at the table, turning something over in her hand.

"What's that?" Bronnie asked.

Sunny startled, and covered it with her hands. "It's nothing."

Bronnie narrowed her eyes. "Muuuuum."

"Oh, don't 'muuuuum' me." Sunny sighed. "Come sit down. I want to talk to you."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No. Just sit down."

Bronnie sat down, a little wary. Sunny sighed and pushed the object across the table. It was a little black disk of some sort of material, incense or something, marked with an arrow. "What is it?"

"Apparently, it's a frog."

"What?!"

"Never mind." Sunny sighed. "I haven't been fair with you, Bronnie. I said I was looking for a tutor for you, and that's not exactly true."

"You haven't been looking?"

"I've been looking... well... I'm not even supposed to do this, Bronnie. I've been trying to get a hold of your biological father." She buried her face in her hands.

Bronwen stared. "W... why?"

"Because he'd probably know what to do. But really, I don't know what to say to him. I've never even met him. I really don't want him to think that I'm some crazy single mother who's going to be suddenly demanding child support or something for a child he probably doesn't even know exists, because I won't. We're doing fine."

"Um." Bronwen tapped a finger on the table. "What does this have to do with this thing?"

"I'm not sure. I had the most ridiculous time tracking down this crazy old lady, and she gave me that, and told me to burn it. I think... I think it's a way of getting a hold of him. And no, I don't know how or why." Sunny sighed. "I should have said something earlier. Bronnie, this man... he may be able to help you, give you some sort of advice, about what you are. And things could be a little easier for you, and we won't have to worry about you burning down the house." Bronnie had the sense to blush at this. "But if you don't want to meet him... then I'll get rid of this thing."

Bronnie stared at her mother. "Um."

"Don't answer now. Go think about it." Sunny put her face down on the table.



Entry 150

"Mail for you."

"There is no mail on Sundays," Sunny said, distracted over her book.

"I know. Nevertheless, there is mail. Mother's Day special, maybe." Ray dropped the envelope down between the pages of her book; Sunny scowled at him.

"Fine, fine." She slit the envelope and settled down to read her letter. She blinked. "Hey, Ray?"

Ray was nearly out of the room, but he stopped and came back. "What is it?"

She set her book down and stood, looking bemused. "There was a council. Without us."

"What?! Why?"

"Because it was about me and you'd be biased, I suppose." Sunny waved the letter. "Come see this. I'm still confused."

Ray came and peered over her shoulder. "Huh. You're... you're going to be running an adoption agency?!"

"Some mother's day present," Sunny laughed. "This is punishment for having Bronnie, I suppose. But baby dragons are good."

They were still peering over the letter when Bronnie emerged, groggy but awake as early as she cared to be on a Saturday morning. "Happy Mother's Day," she mumbled, and hugged Sunny tightly. "What's that?"

"My punishment."

"For what?"

"Never mind." Sunny giggled and kissed her daughter on the forehead. "You know, it is traditional for you to make me breakfast today."

"But... but I--" Bronnie sputtered.

"I'm kidding!"

"Mum... about the... you know..." She shuffled her feet and looked awkward.

Sunny raised an eyebrow, then turned to her brother and waved him away. "Girl talk. Get lost."

Ray stuck out his tongue but retreated.

"I thought about it," Bronnie mumbled. "I guess I want to meet him. I don't think I can call him 'dad', though. I've never met him or anything, right, and he's never done anything."

Sunny saw the shadows under Bronwen's feet tremble slightly. She nodded. "I know. We have to do something about this." She hugged Bronnie tightly, for good measure. "Okay? You just stay happy."

Entry 151

Bronwen stumbled into the house, trying very hard to be quiet. It was well after midnight, and she moved in a sort of stumbling, more falling from support to support than actually walking. It was hard to not giggle, but she had a vague notion of not waking anyone up. So, if she was just careful, she could manage to get up the stairs...

...maybe she'd sleep down on the couch instead.

No! Her own bed. Bronnie wobbled and clung to the back of a chair.

"Bronwen."

She glanced up guiltily at her mother, tried to manage to not look guilty and look startled instead, and ended up looking like she'd smelled something unpleasant. "Hi, mum."

Sunny stared. "You're out late."

"Um. Um. Sorry. Lost tracka time."

"I see." She wrinkled her nose. "Just get up to bed, okay?"

Bronnie nodded, figuring she'd got away with it, and made for the stairs.

Sunny flopped down into the chair as soon as she'd seen that Bronwen had managed to get up the stairs without falling.

That was... one very obviously drunk young woman.

Well. She'd let Bronnie sober up and deal with her in the morning. Sunny sighed and curled into the chair, hugging herself.

She felt like a terrible mother.

Entry 152

Her head aching, Bronnie stumbled down into the kitchen. She wasn't much hungry, but she was very thirsty. She found, instead, her mother, sitting at the table with her arms crossed.

"Sit," Sunny commanded.

Bronnie sat.

"Tell me, then. What the hell did you think you were doing?"

"We were just having fun," Bronnie mumbled.

"Fair enough. Fun." Sunny paced around the kitchen, gesturing vaguely. "Fun! You do recall that you are, in the eyes of the law, a child, right? Therefore, not allowed to drink? You went drinking, you did not tell me where you might be, you did not call, you did not think of coming home when you said you would be home. What was I supposed to think, Bronwen?" She slammed her fist down on the table. "Was I supposed to know that you were binge-drinking off somewhere and not lying dead in a ditch?"

Bronnie fidgeted.

"And then, when I'm just about ready to call the police, you come stumbling home so drunk! How did you even get home, anyway?"

".... walked. It wasn't far..."

"It wasn't far? In the state you were in, I wouldn't have trusted you to walk from the front door to the road." Sunny snorted. "Who were you with?"

"... just people."

"Who? Goddammit, Bronwen, you tell me, and you tell me now."

"... Cyrus, and Rhiannon, and Tinania... and Angie... and Elle..." Bronnie fidgeted again. "Could I have a drink of water?"

Sunny ground her teeth before heading to the sink. She poured out a glass of water and set it front of Bronnie without a word. Bronnie drank, her tail nervously coiling behind her.

"Nothing happened," she added. "Nothing bad."

"So you say. And you're lucky. But you were walking home in the dark, well past midnight, thoroughly incapacitated." Sunny said this with her voice suddenly calmer. "Think about what could have happened. Fire and ash, Bronnie, you know I'm not the most straight-laced person in the world and I wouldn't be adverse to letting you have a glass of wine on a special occassion. But this... this was unnecessary excess. This was unsafe, this was... this was stupid!"

"I'm sorry."

"I'm afraid that's not much good." Sunny leaned against the counter, appearing to think. "Okay, Bronnie. I have been up half the night trying to figure out what the hell to do with you, and I'm still not sure. Who brought the alcohol?"

"... I don't know."

"Do you really not know or are you just saying that?"

"I really don't know. I don't see what the big deal is!" Bronnie blurted out. "You drink! You have your beer in the fridge!"

Sunny frowned. "I'm also an adult. I also know at what point I become too drunk to do much. I'm responsible enough to deal with it properly! If you're going to live here--"

"Maybe I'll go live with Glee, then!"

"That would hardly be fair for them," Sunny snorted. "Be reasonable, Bronnie."

Bronnie wrinkled her nose and lapsed into silence again.

"Look. I'm not going to grudge you the experience." Sunny had thought this over quite thoroughly; it was hard to justify this to herself when she'd done her own share of binge drinking in her younger days. "But if you ever, ever do anything like that again, ancestors-give-me-strength, I'll hang you by your tail from the chimney. If you want to drink, you will do it with family, on special occassions, under this roof, and nowhere else. You will not be going out into strange places with who-knows-where getting plastered with no way of getting home without letting me know where the hell you've got to."

"Yes, mum." Bronnie felt too sick to argue; she sipped her water again.

"And furthermore, you can consider yourself grounded until I think of some suitably hard labour to saddle you with," Sunny added. She set a couple painkillers on the table in front of the girl. "Drink lots of water," she said in a gentler voice.

Bronnie swallowed the pills as soon as her mother left the room, and promptly burst into tears.

Entry 153

Bronnie caught the updraft, winged near the house, and grabbed onto the lattice with hands and feet. Cautiously, she leaned over and crawled into her open window. There! And none the wiser...

"Nice day for flying?" Sunny was sitting calmly on Bronnie's bed, nose in a book, waiting.

"Um."

"Tell me. What part of being grounded didn't you understand?" Sunny was rather flushed and sweaty, but her voice was calm. "The rules are that you do not leave the property. I assumed you understood this meant by air as well as by foot."

"Sorry."

"Sorry?!" Sunny took a deep breath, and replaced her bookmark. She set the book aside. "Bronwen, you are my daughter, and I love you, and I want to trust you. Lately, you are not giving me much reason to do that. I can let the other night slide. You are being punished not because you were drinking, but because you acted irresponsibly by choosing to drink in a situation which was not safe." The words sounded rehearsed, but Sunny's voice quavered. "I am trying to make this clear, but you are not making this easy."

"But--"

"No. Shut up and sit down."

Bronnie sat. Sunny glared at the floor.

"This is what I've decided. Your grounding was for a week; it is now for two weeks. Every time you sneak out--and believe me, I will find out--the total length of your grounding will double. Sneak out again, and you'll be grounded for a month. Again, and it will be two months. Another time, and it will be four months. Basic math. This can be over quick, or it can last a very long time, and it is up to you. Understand?"

"Yes, mum."

"In addition, since it is very clear that you need to learn some responsibility, during the period of time in which you are grounded, I am going to work you hard. The front flower gardens are going to be needing planting, and you will help me. I want to put in some new rosebushes. You are also going to help me up in the greenroom. You are going to be helping me getting this adoption agency I'm running ready, and you are going to basically be doing anything that needs to be doing that I believe you can do."

"Yes, mum." Bronnie was internally outraged at this. She sort of wished her mother would yell at her so that she could yell back.

"On more thing. From now on, during the period of your grounding, there will be no television, no computer, and no allowance. Again, you can be free of this in another week and a half, or for a very long time. I didn't want to bring things this far, but as you obviously don't take me seriously, I don't see that I have much of a choice but to lay the smackdown on you. Get it?"

"Yes, mum."

Sunny picked up her book, and after a moment's thought, leaned over and hugged Bronnie tightly; Bronwen didn't hug her back. "I'm sorry I have to do this, but these are the consequences. If you want to come downstairs and have some cocoa--"

"No."

Sunny exhaled slowly through her nose. "All right, then." She rose and left the room.

Bronwen buried her face in her hands. Goddamn it all. She curled up on her bed, miserable and angry.

Entry 154

Bronnie was sulking.

She was sulking very thoroughly. There was a threat of rain in the air, but nevertheless, she and her mother were out in the front garden, preparing the beds for the planting. Bronnie was sweaty and sore and tired, and there was still a lot of work to be done.

"I think we can empty out this load," Sunny said suddenly, straightening. She gestured to the wheelbarrow of weeds. "I think we've probably done enough for today. We'll just finish up this bed and go inside. Wow, you can smell that rain."

Bronnie didn't move.

"Bronnie?"

She grunted. "I don't want to."

Sunny scowled. "Bronwen."

"Didn't you hear me? I don't want to. I'm tired and sore and dirty and I hate the way the dirt feels on my hands and I want to go to a movie."

"Tough. You're grounded."

"I know that!" Bronnie snarled. "You don't get it, do you? You keep acting like I'm still a little girl! I'm not a little girl! You want to keep me a ******** prisoner, doing all your ******** work, and you don't even make the effort to try to understand."

"Well, you're not exactly helping yourself!" Sunny dropped the garden fork into the dirt, her face contorting furiously. "You made the mistake, and now you're being punished! What else am I supposed to do?"

"You could let me be myself!"

"Not if you're going to get yourself killed!"

"Why the hell did you even have me?" Bronnie wailed suddenly. "It'd be better if I did go get killed, too."

Sunny blinked. "Don't say that! Bronnie--"

"Go away!" Bronnie shrieked; hardly knowing what she was doing, she lashed out with her claws.

Sunny gasped, and took step backwards. Bronnie looked, and saw her mother clutching her arm, blood welling up in four deep scratches; she'd put up her hand reflexively.

Bronnie's knees gave way. "Mum...." Her anger had melted away, and she stared, frightened. She hadn't meant to do any such thing, not in a million years, not ever.

"Go inside," Sunny said, beginning to recover from her shock.

"But--"

"Go inside," she repeated. "I'll be okay. I'll be with you in a minute or two."

Bronwen ran scared into the house; Sunny let out a wail. The damage was not bad; she may look human but she was made of tougher stuff than that. Still, if she had been... she would likely have been bleeding severely. As it was, she would likely have a new addition to her collection of scars.

The bigger worry at the moment was Bronnie's dirty nails.

"She had to have my temper," Sunny growled to herself. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, and went inside to clean herself up and confront Bronwen.

Entry 155

"Holy s**t, Ali. What happened?"

"Bronnie happened. Come help me tie this bandage down." She gestured vaguely to the complicated twisting of guaze around her left arm. "I can't do this one-handed."

"Bronnie? What?!" Ray came to help, though his eyes are wide.

"We had a fight. Look, I'm going to go talk with her once I'm cleaned up. She's down in the kitchen. Could you stay up here for the time being?"

"Yeah, sure. Not doing anything, really. Want me have the ambulances on stand-by?"

"That's not funny, Ray."

"Sorry." He tucked the bandage in firmly. "There. Apparently she's as bad as you were. Good luck. Yell if you need back-up."

Sunny scowled after him, but she had to admit that he was right. She'd been awful when she was young; while being emotional wasn't entirely a bad thing for a Singer-in-training, a fierce temper was not a good thing. She remembered the senior Singer who had taught her the trade rapping her on the back of her skull, subjecting to days of fasting and patient solitude, making her recite the details of the tribal histories and legends until she'd been ready to weep in exhaustion, all in an attempt to get her to learn some patience.

She'd never thought, at the time, that it did any good.

Bronwen was still in the kitchen, curled up in the corner hugging her knees, and sobbing.



She looked up as Sunny came in, and swallowed. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry you have to believe me I'm really sorry you can ground me for ever if you have to but--"

"Calm down," Sunny said.

"But--"

"I'm going to make some cocoa, so sit down at the table."

The rain that had threatened all day had arrived, and was pattering peacefully against the kitchen window. Bronnie fidgeted miserably as her mother made cocoa, unfuriatingly slowly.

At last, Sunny set a cup in front of her, and sat down with the second cup. "I'm not angry."

".... of course you're not angry," Bronnie snorted. "You're never angry unless I'm already yelling at you."

"You're wrong. I have a temper at least as bad as yours. I just don't show it. Maybe I should be angry. Maybe I should be yelling at you and threatening to sell you to the circus. I'm... I'm not angry. At all."

"So?"

"I have a story."

"You're all stories," Bronnie complained. She buried her face into the tabletop.

"Stories are what I know." Sunny shrugged; Bronnie subsided. "It's just a little story, really. Your Uncle Ray has, on his hip, a rather deep and nasty scar. Don't tell him I told you that, though. He got the scar from me.

"We would have been... oh... roughly the same age you are now. We had an argument. I don't even remember now what we were fighting over. I lost my temper, and gave him a good swipe in the butt."

Bronwen eyed her mother. "So?"

"So, Eldila--he wasn't the High Elder, then, but he was an Elder, and to be respected--took me aside, and he explained to me that anger isn't necessarily a bad thing. 'You,' he said, 'have fire inside, like many of us. That inner fire warms you, protects you. As long as you have strength to summon it up, you can be warm and safe and well-fed. If it gets out of control, it can burn you. It can sweep through a forest and destroy it.

"'But after a forest fire, the grass and the new trees and all the small plants come up, nourished by the ashes. Fire has its place even when it is destructive. You understand fire, and I know you do.' I said, 'Of course I do, Eldila. But I don't know what you mean.'

"He told me, 'Emotion is akin to fire. Even destructive, it has its place. You are an emotional person, and you should not be afraid of that. Some of our greatest histories begin with someone being angry about the way things were, and striving to change it. You need to learn when you must act on anger, and when you must not.' I think... I think, Bronnie, that's why I decided to start studying the stories in the first place, to become a Singer."

Bronnie scowled. "That's good for you, I guess. How am I supposed to know?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out," Sunny admitted with a smirk. "I'm going to tell you something no one your age ever wants to hear: You and are a lot alike."

She made a face. "Mum."

Sunny laughed. "Drink your cocoa."

Bronnie drank her cocoa. "Am I still grounded?"

"You better believe it. Look, Bronnie, is something on your mind?"

"Um. No. Yes, I guess."

"Try to tell me, okay?"

"I... I don't know. I just feel all mixed up and twisted inside and confused." Bronnie fidgeted. "I'm... I'm not anything. I'm not properly human, and I'm not properly dragon, and I found I'm a little demon, too... I'm not anything, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do or what I'm supposed to be or who I am."

"That's been bothering you?" Sunny swirled the cocoa in her mug around.

"Yeah."

"You... are you thinking differently about contacting your father?"

"No. I... I think I need to."

Sunny nodded. "Soon, then. We'll do that soon?"

"Okay."

Sunny put her unwounded arm around Bronnie's shoulders. "You don't have to be anything but Bronwen, you know. No one can fairly expect anything more from you."

Bronnie sniffed.