Page 24 of The Dragon at the End of This Pregnancy

The group of humans in front of us wore nothing but bright colored shorts, suspenders, and bow ties. Others wore beautiful ball gowns and looked like princesses from the animated movies Mac liked to watch.

We walked down the middle of a closed-off road. I was perplexed by the arrangement of temporary dwellings situated on either side. Mac corrected me, saying it was a street, and that these tents would be taken down in a few hours when the street fair ended.

I had a hard time hearing him over the noise coming from a raised platform. Some screeching feedback accompanied a person making strange noises with their mouth. The noise startled me at first. I focused on the warmth of Mac's hand in mine and calmed my racing heart.

"What is that?" I pointed the way he taught me, with my hand instead of a finger.

"A disco cover band, I think?" Mac laughed. "Priestess Alma would love it!"

"Band?"

"It's music," he said.

Music. Dragons could sing, but this was so much more varied and interesting. Humans were good with their hands.

The thought reminded me of how wonderful Mac's hands had felt on me last night. It was probably a good thing dragons didn't have hands. If I'd been able to touch myself like that my whole life, I wouldn't have accomplished much outside my cave.

Not that I'd accomplished much as it was. I had a feeling my paragon would chastise me for letting the kobolds rebuild, among other things.

I grunted, and Mac turned to me with a question in his gaze. I shook my head. That was a problem for the future, if my paragon returned at all.

We walked closer to the stage, what Mac called the raised platform, as we progressed along the row of covered tables and smiling faces trying to talk us into buying their goods. It reminded me of the dragon festivals we had when I was a child, with our relatives from afar hawking the shiny baubles they'd collected on their journeys.

Not all humans sold merchandise. Some wanted us to sign petitions. Others wanted us to buy a membership, and they would give us merchandise in return. After some address confusion, Mac completed a form for me, and I became a proud member of the Human Rights Campaign. I ended up with a tote bag, a t-shirt, and a rainbow heart-covered mug for my hoard.

By the time we reached the stage, I could feel a deep vibration in my chest as sound pounded from the large black boxes positioned on either side. The people on the stage had changed, and now one crooned about celebrating while the crowd bounced to the beat. Mac bobbed with them, a smile on his face.

I didn't have to understand it to enjoy being part of the crowd. I danced to the music, too, and Mac slid his arms around my waist.

"This is fun," he shouted, the only way I could hear him with human ears.

"Yes!"

"Let's look at the offerings on the other side of the street, and then we can find somewhere quiet."

As exciting as this was, quiet sounded better.

At the first table, we had to explain we weren't from the area to another petitioner. I wandered to the next table while Mac explained we wouldn't be able to vote on their bond referendum in November.

I didn't know what a bond referendum was, any more than I knew what the strange harnesses on the next table would do. They wouldn't fit our dire weasels or dragonets, that's for sure.

"Oh, this would look lovely on you." The young man with a metal ball pierced beneath his bottom lip sauntered over to me with a strip of leather with four holes on one side and a metal tongue on the other. "Would you like to try it on, honey?"

"No." Mac's voice was firm behind me. "Thank you," he added belatedly. He draped his arm over my shoulders and dragged me away from the glowering man.

"What is it?" I asked.

"A collar. It means you belong to someone." Mac glared over his shoulder.

"I only belong to you."

I'd hoped it would calm him, but he walked faster, urging me past the remaining tents to the gate. When we reached the van, I pulled my door open, but he pushed it shut again and pinned me against it.

"You don't belong to me," Mac said. "We're partners. Equals."

We were most certainly not equals. I could crush him beneath my foot in my true form. Still, I understood what he meant.

"Partners," I said, choosing the word that best fit us. "Mates."

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