Page 9 of Sleigh Bells and Dragon Spells

“It’s good to see someone bringing joy back to that place,” Cedric commented, giving Falkor a sidelong glance. “Reminds me of what the holidays should be about.”

Falkor took another long drink, trying to drown out the echo of his mother’s voice:“Joy is weakness, my son. Power is the only truth worth pursuing.”

But Briar’s magic spoke of a different truth. He remembered the warmth in her eyes even as death approached on that icy road. No calculation there, no hidden agenda – just pure determination and an inexplicable spark that had drawn him from the sky like a moth to flame.

“Earth to dragon,” Bram’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You’re missing the entertainment.”

Falkor looked up to find Kade attempting to balance a spoon on his nose while reciting what appeared to be a traditional wolf pack blessing – backward.

“Lost a bet,” Cedric explained, grinning. “Should know better than to challenge a bear to a drinking contest.”

“In my defense,” Kade managed around the spoon, “I thought my wolf metabolism would help.”

“Amateur,” Bram scoffed. “My grandmother could drink three wolves under the table. And did, regularly.”

“Wasn’t that how you met Tabitha?” Cedric asked innocently. “Something about her out-drinking your entire sleuth?”

Bram’s cheeks reddened. “She cheated. Used some kind of witch metabolism spell.”

“Sure, she did,” Kade snorted, finally giving up on the spoon trick. “Nothing to do with you being completely smitten the moment she walked in.”

“Speaking of being smitten,” Bram turned to Falkor with a dangerous gleam in his eye. “When was the last time you went on a date?”

“I don’t date,” Falkor stated flatly.

“Everyone dates,” Bram argued. “Even grumpy dragons need love.”

“I think what our inebriated friend means,” Cedric intervened smoothly, “is that isolation isn’t always the answer. The world’s changed, Falkor. Not everyone has an agenda.”

Falkor’s thoughts drifted treacherously to Briar again. There had been no guile in her, no hidden motives. Even now, her actions at the orphanage spoke of genuine kindness. It... unsettled him, this persistent pull toward someone so unlike anyone in his experience.

“Come on,” Kade broke through his reverie. “Darts tournament. Loser has to help Elsie decorate the Lone Wolf Café for Christmas.”

“That’s cruel,” Bram whistled. “She’ll have them hanging tinsel for hours.”

“Scared?” Kade raised an eyebrow at Falkor.

The challenge snapped Falkor out of his brooding. “You realize I have centuries of practice at projectile weapons?”

“Prove it, old man.”

What followed was an increasingly ridiculous competition, with Bram adding absurd rules after each round. “Next shot must be thrown while reciting a holiday carol.” or “Points only count if you’re standing on one leg.”

To his own surprise, Falkor found himself enjoying the childish display. When one of his throws went wild during a particularly undignified “spin three times first” rule, his genuine laugh startled them all.

“Quick, someone paint a portrait,” Bram stage-whispered. “Proof that dragons can experience joy.”

“I’ll notify the scientific community,” Kade deadpanned.

Later, stepping into the bitter night air, Falkor felt oddly lighter. The weight of centuries seemed marginally less crushing.

“Next week, same time,” Cedric said. It wasn’t a question. “We need to discuss this storm properly, but tonight was about something else.”

“Making me look foolish?” Falkor raised an eyebrow.

“Making you remember you’re not alone.” Cedric’s expression turned serious. “Whatever’s coming, you have allies here. People who understand what it means to carry power and responsibility.”

“Don’t go getting sentimental on me,” Falkor muttered, but there was less bite in his tone than usual.

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