Page 2 of Grumpy Dragon Christmas

Now I’ve left everyone I know in the galaxy behind because I want to face this on my own. The fate I always promised myself wouldn’t happen. The fate I have literally no choice in.

“I hope we can convince you otherwise.” The mayor smiles at me again, but I don’t trust it.

I don’t trust anyone, let alone myself. I hate that the last thing I did was make my friends cry. I hate that the Sarkarnii who escorted me to the cargo ship wouldn’t even look at me.

“If you want to go with my associate, they will take you to your assigned quarters.” The mayor’s cheerful voice breaks into my gloom as a Lepke, feather antennae twisting with interest, enters.

I follow out into the chill air of Kitchik, a hint of metal suggests snow and, despite everything, my heart does a little twist at the thought of the familiar. I always loved the winter time on Earth. In my little part of Yorkshire, high up in the Dales, snow was common. Shame about the alien abductions…

The Lepke takes a number of twists and turns through colorful streets filled with dwellings of all shapes and sizes until we come to a large, egg shaped building.

“This is for you.” They say happily, “second floor. It’s already keyed to your DNA.”

The apartment is small, empty save for a few pieces of furniture, and featureless. The thought of having to make it a home exhausts me before I’ve even started.

I stare around, not knowing what to do next. Behind me, the door snaps open and as I turn, I’m dazzled by an entirely new creature.

“Oh!” it says. “Hello, human.” It grins. “I am Qrow. Qrow Riverside. I am a Bosszanto. The mayor sent me to be your companion.”

He is entirely mauve, to the point I feel sick all over again because his brightness hurts my eyes. A pair of black eyes, dancing with mischief are stark against his colorful skin. He has four arms, like the Jiaka I encountered back on the Kirakos, two of which are waving excitedly.

It doesn’t help he’s dressed in eye-wateringly bright clothing.

I grab at the back of the couch to hold myself up. Qrow inhales.

“And I was not told you were with young!” he says, a smile showing a set of impressively pointed teeth, reminiscent of a great white shark. “How exciting!”

I stare and stare at him until my vision dims and I can’t stare any longer.

DREKKAN

“Nev this nevving place!” I toss the useless piece of junk over my shoulder, not caring where it lands.

The carcass of my ship’s engine stares back at me, as if daring me to do what I did to it three turns ago. Not that any further damage would matter. Without the pulsar drive pin, the one I thought I’d “liberated” from the other vessel, I’m not going anywhere.

And I’ve been stuck on this nevving planetoid for what seems like forever. I hate it. I hate being in one place. I hate the fact all the other lifeforms on Kitchik seem to like it here.

They made the mistake of approaching me after I made my unscheduled landing. The ridiculous mayor, a stupidly cheery purple Honok, all smiles and greetings, wanted to welcome me to this nev-hole.

One sheet of flame sent them all scurrying away. Sometimes, being a Sarkarnii, even when there are no Sarkarnii left, is useful after all.

Regardless, the inhabitants continue to tolerate me for reasons I don’t quite understand. I rarely pay for supplies and regularly steal from them to get the parts I hope might make my ship space worthy again.

Not hope. It will fly, I’m going to make nevving sure of it, even if I have to shut down the whole of Kitchik to make it happen.

It’s been too long. I can’t wait any more.

I scratch at the back of my neck just as my comm chimes. I see from the incoming information it is the last nevver I want to speak to. Except…

“Qrow, you piece of nev, that part was worse than useless!” I spit at him, smoke and embers curling around me.

“Now, Drekkan, listen.” He waves one set of arms around while the other pair twist in front of him.

“I’m done nevving listening to you, or to anyone. All I want is to be left alone, to fix my ship, and get the nev off this nevving planet,” I roar.

“Are you due to shed?” Qrow asks. “You’re always extra cranky when you’re due a shed.”

“If you”—I lower my voice to its most menacing—“dare to suggest what is and isn’t wrong with me, ancestors help me, I will come down there and rip your head off. Then you’ll know what cranky is,” I finish with a snarl.

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