There was a shimmer of one of Chi’s portals in the living room. Lamis vaulted over the kitchen island, kicking a plate of cookies to the ground. Pom was up as well, knees banging into the table, causing the black forest chocolate cake to tumble off of its display, but Lamis didn’t care.

Dio walked through the portal, and behind them a trail of four children. They were taller than Lamis expected for their ages, and thinner around the cheeks, but their youth clung to their gangly limbs and nobbly knees. They looked wide-eyed around the open plan living room of the town house, the smallest one clinging to the tallest like a lifeline. Four little dragons, and it was easy to see who they came from.

The smallest dragon had the same pale silver sheen scales with blue marks that curved over his eyes and arms, as Chi. He was missing his left eye, replaced by a star-shaped scar of rough, darker scales. Holding his hand, the tallest matched Dionysis with dark silver scales and angular purple stripes, with a unique black fin-like crest running over his skull and down his back.

The second tallest was a near carbon copy of Pom. All ruby red and cream belly with darker spikes running down his back. He had little bumps on his brow that he kept itching, no doubt where little horns would sprout to match Pom’s. It made Lamis want to squeal and shower kisses over his cute little face.

However, the dragon that caught Lamis’ attention was the little yellow one, just barely taller than the smallest. His scales were flecked with strange mottling, like rusty orange bronze splattered across his face and arms. Just like Lamis, the spots spread like freckles all over him, even onto his paler throat and belly. He had a mane of dark feathery hair like Lamis, though it was cut very short. Too short to be naturally grown out, as if styled after a human buzz cut.

Lamis stopped, close enough that the kids wouldn’t feel intimidated by her approach. She could feel Pom hovering over her shoulder, further back so his size wouldn’t frighten the kids. Lamis knelt so she was closer to the little bronze spotted dragon. 

“Hey there lil guy. My name’s Lamis. Do you… know who I am?”

The little dragon fidgeted. “You’re one of the dragons that we’re made from…” He held out a hand, showing the smattering of freckles. “You’ve got spots like me.”

Lamis reached out, holding the little hand like it was made of spun sugar. “I do. We match.”

“Does that mean I’m made from you?” The dragon’s tail whipped side to side.

“I think it does.” Lamis smiled. “It means I’m your mama, if you want. I’ll be whatever you want me to be.” 

The little dragon’s expression changed to something complicated and troubled. He touched Lamis’ hand, fingers over the spots. “I’d like a nice mama.”

“I’d like to be a nice mama.” Lamis hesitantly held out her arms. “Can I hug you?”

Lamis’ son– her son– leapt into her arms like he’d been starving for it his whole life. He clung so desperately he shook, his breath hitched in his throat.

Lamis held him as close as she could, lifting the little dragon into her arms and under her chin, churring like a crackling campfire. 

“I got you,” she murmured, showering kisses onto her son’s head. “I’m so glad you’re here. You’re safe now.”

“Are we?” A small, choking laugh bubbled up from the little dragon. “We’ve never been that before.”

“I promise, no one is going to take you away from us,” Lamis swore. She rubbed her cheek on her son’s buzzed short feathery hair. 

The little dragon churred, a warm, crackling sound like a match fizzing. He nuzzled into Lamis’ shoulder, pressing into every touch. 

“I’d like that…”

“Me too.” Sheepish, Lamis pulled back. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Oh!” The dragon’s head popped up, and he gave a big grin. “I’m Moros. And that’s Perses, Icelus, and Deimos!” He pointed to the other dragons behind him.

“Moros.” Her son, this was her son. “Are you hungry? I made, uh, a lot.” 

Around her every surface of the living room and kitchen groaned under baked and frozen goods, the elaborate nature of the breads and cakes growing with her anxiety. She hadn’t made anything with yeast, however the three hours since Chi texted the family was enough for a plethora of layered cakes and quick rising sweet breads.

Moros looked at the food with wide eyes. “That’s all food for us?”

“It is. I didn’t want you to be hungry,” Lamis said. “And I wasn’t sure what you would like, so I made a lot of different things. Do you have any favorite foods? I can make that for you next time.”

“I like cantaloupe and oranges with lettuce,” Moros mused, sniffing towards the food. “We don’t have anything like this. We’re not allowed to eat cooked food. It’s bad for… Dee, how’d they say it?”

Deimos, hovering at Dio’s side with Icelus, provided, “It is bad for our desired psychological profiles.”

“Oh, well.” Lamis drooped. “We can wrap everything up, if you kids aren’t hungry. I have some salmon and lettuce in the fridge I can defrost, if you want that?”

“We’re hungry,” Moros said quickly. “I’m hungry. I want to eat. We had pizza! And those eyeball horrors, those were really good.”

“Yeah? Those are my favorite too! I got pizza bread over here, and orange tarts, if you want to try those too?”

Moros grinned, teeth sharp and long. He bounced on his toes. “How much can we eat?”

Lamis didn’t let herself explore the implications of the question. Above her, she knew Pom’s jaw was clenched, and Dio had started typing on their wrist computer again. She snuggled Lamis under her chin. 

“You kids are always allowed to eat whatever I have in the kitchen. You can eat as much as you want!”

“Just don’t puke, or anything.” Pom rumbled. “That would probably mean you ate too much.”

Moros’ eyes went wide, dark pupils swelling to nearly eclipse his yellow irises. “I wanna try everything!”

“It’s important for growing dragons to eat,” Dio added, voice flat. They looked down at Deimos, laying a hand on the child’s back. “Are you aware of any allergies or food sensitivities you or your siblings have?”

A hesitation settled over the kids. They all focused on Deimos, who studied Dio for a moment, then finally said, “Fungicides.”

An odd thing to mention, but no one called Deimos on it. The kids were so thin, Lamis just wanted to wrap them all up in a blanket nest and feed them cake.

Lamis nodded. “Okay, I made sure to wash everything off really good before cooking, so there’s none of that in my food.”

“So we can eat?” Moros was trembling in place, staring at Deimos.

“Yes,” Deimos allowed. “It’s safe.”

“You can eat anything in my kitchen, whenever you want,” Lamis promised. “No one goes hungry in my house!”

“Are you ever not hungry?” Moros immediately sniffed at the air towards the food.

Lamis clutched Moros to her chest, trying to calm the flash of burning rage that made her heart race, and flames lick under her scales. Her hair rose slightly, like static was running over her scalp. Lamis took a breath and stood, hitching Moros onto her hip to carry him. The little dragon seemed unbothered by the warmth.

“Yeah. And I’m going to make sure you’re not hungry too. What do you want to try first?” 

“I don’t know!” Moros beamed excitedly. “What’s that?”

“Melon cake!” Lamis said, sweeping over to the two tiered sponge liberally decorated with whipped cream and orange cantaloupe cubes. She cut a slice and started to fill a plate for Moros. “It’s my favorite color!”

“Orange!” Moros squealed, staring hungrily.

Laughing, Lamis handed over the plate. “There’s orange cream cake too! And lemon bars, but those are yellow. There’s pizza too, and some of the tomatoes I put on it are orange. Dio grows them in their garden, and they’re absolutely no fungicides or anything on them at all.”

Moros accepted the pizza, biting into that happily, tail lashing behind him. “It’s sooo good!” He laughed. “It’s warm!”

Lamis giggled as well, booping her beak to the little dragon’s. Her son had the cutest laugh! She resolved to hear that laugh every day; to let her son know it was safe to laugh, that his mama was here to take care of him, and no one would ever hurt him again.

“I’ll make you all the warm food! I got a chocolate cake that’s still warm from the oven. Want to try that next? You can pick what frosting we put on it!”

“Yeah!” Moros grinned, bouncing in Lamis’ arms. “Everyone always says chocolate’s really good!”

“Well, now you can decide if that’s true!” Lamis said, kissing his head, and carrying the little dragon into the kitchen.

…