A Little Fire, a Little Love

Freya

Cubs, Pups and Bubs Mystical Daycare welcomes me with a symphony of cries, laughter and the faint tinge of something burning.

Nothing unusual for a space that accommodates multiple different species in their newborn to toddler stages.

“Morning, Freya,” Stella sing-songs as I pass reception on my way to the staff room.

“Morning.”

I lift a hand without stopping, already slipping my bag from my shoulder as I push through the staff door. I have enough time to shove my things into a locker, twist my hair up and pull on my apron before I’m heading back out again.

Stella is still behind the desk when I return, tapping through the morning enrolments.

“How are we doing?”

“Marsha won’t be in. Her parents said she’s come down with a common cold, but everyone else is here.”

Well, thank the Gods for small mercies.

Marsha is three, built like a small boulder, and she has absolutely no control over herself when she sneezes. The last cold she brought in sent poor Ollie halfway across the toddler room.

“Oh, and we’ve got a new hatchling coming through for a walkthrough today,” Stella adds. “Dad should be here around ten.”

“Dad?”

Usually the mothers handle the daycare visits, so I notice when the form says otherwise.

Stella’s mouth twitches until it turns into a full grin.

“He’s the Dragon King.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “And apparently a newly single father.”

That’s interesting. Dragons don’t really do separation. They choose once, and that’s it. Maybe something happened to the mother, but that is absolutely none of my business.

“Baby’s name is Asher. Daddy is Knox.”

“Can we please stop calling grown men Daddy?”

Stella laughs. “Marge will take over when they get here.”

“Got it.”

I leave her grinning behind the desk and head down the hall, already hearing the morning chaos spilling from the infant room.

The smell of warm oats reaches me before I make it through the door. So does a spoon. It sails past my shoulder and clatters against the wall behind me.

I stop and look inside.

Twelve tiny faces stare back at me while Theo slowly lowers the second spoon in his hand and gives me a gummy smile.

“Well, good morning to you all too.”

The room explodes back into motion as I step inside.

Piper has her bib between her teeth while she tries to climb onto the table. Jasper has both hands buried in scrambled egg. Matias is crying because his blueberries are touching his yoghurt while his twin sister, Feris, quietly steals every one he pushes away. Oh, and Lottie’s cup is floating above her head, and Ember is smoking.

“Marge?” I glance her way, waiting to see which problem needs my attention first.

“Ember.”

“Got her.”

I catch Piper around the waist on my way past and lower her back into her seat before crossing to Ember, whose cheeks are flushed while thin trails of smoke curl from her hair.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

She points at her bowl, and I touch the side and find cold porridge.

Ah yes, definitely a reason to throw a fiery tantrum.

I curl my fingers around the ceramic and draw a little warmth into it until steam begins rising from the surface. Ember immediately stops smoking, her whole face brightening as she grabs her spoon.

A spark jumps from her hair and lands on my apron, and I quickly slap it out.

“Food warm. Freya unburnt. Those are today’s rules.” I touch her nose.

Then something clatters behind me.

Lottie’s cup is halfway to the ceiling.

“Lottie.”

She grins.

I hold out my hand, catching the cup inside a small ward before lowering it back to the table.

“No flying cups.”

Her spoon rises instead.

“Or spoons.”

It drops, and a tiny growl pulls my attention toward Piper. Her grey ears have pushed through her hair, and her eyes are fixed on Noah’s banana, even though she has one sitting directly in front of her.

“What’s going on with you, Piper?”

She looks at her banana, then Noah’s.

His must be superior in her eyes.

Her claws slide out as she leans sideways, so I pick hers up and run my thumb along the peel, letting the yellow deepen into purple before putting it back down.

Her ears shoot upright.

“Better?”

She grabs it with both hands and curls protectively over it.

Thought so. Piper loves purple.

“Freya.”

I turn to find Marge holding Jasper beneath the arms while scrambled egg drips from his elbows.

“How does that even happen?”

“I have no idea.”

We both look at him as Jasper smiles, his egg disappears, and something warm lands on top of my head.

Marge’s lips press together.

“Don’t.”

Her shoulders start shaking as I reach up and pull the scrambled egg from my hair.

Jasper claps.

“Wonderful. Very clever.”

I grab a cloth and crouch beside him, running my fingers over his shirt until the egg lifts from the fabric and gathers into the cloth.

By the time I straighten, Feris has turned Matias’s yoghurt purple, and his face is crumpled.

“Feris, put it back, please.”

The purple slowly fades, and Matias studies his breakfast before taking another cautious spoonful.

“There we go.”

Feris reaches across and pats his arm, and a tiny white flower pushes through the table between them.

Matias stops crying as it opens.

“Well, that’s very pretty, but we can’t grow things through the furniture.”

I ease the flower free and press my palm over the little split left behind. Repairing wood takes more than warming porridge or changing a banana’s colour, and a little of my warmth goes with it before the grain slowly closes beneath my palm.

When I lift my palm, Matias is watching me.

I tuck the flower behind his ear, and his fingers immediately rise to touch it.

“There. Much better.”

He smiles and goes back to his yoghurt.

Around me, breakfast keeps moving in all its magical glory.

Piper peels her purple banana with her claws while Lottie sends a spoon creeping across the table until I give her a look. Theo tries to bite through his cup, Ember starts heating her own porridge, and somewhere behind me Marge tells Jasper that scrambled egg does not belong in his nappy.

I move between them, cooling Ember’s bowl before it bubbles over, rescuing Theo’s cup and catching Lottie’s spoon before it reaches Matias.

By the time the last bowl is cleared away, there’s porridge down one side of my apron, a tiny scorch mark near the pocket and enough egg in my hair to justify another shower.

I look around at the little faces while Marge starts wiping hands.

If the walkthrough goes well later, we might be adding a dragon hatchling to this.

A species we’ve never cared for, with abilities I’ve only ever read about and a father I know a lot of the species in this realm don’t dare to mess with.

Theo’s cheeks suddenly bulge, and I look down.

Half of Piper’s abandoned purple banana has disappeared.

“Theodore.” I gasp, and he freezes at my tone.

“Spit it out.”