Many a Little Makes a Mickle

It had been a long day without a lot to show for it. Orphir bought a bun at the street seller, tipping the little extra because they knew Martin had saved the last adzuki bean, their favorite.

They heated it with a quick puff, after glancing around to make sure no one would report them for unlawful use of fire. Fire codes were a bitch.

Tourists weren't as interested in dragons in the last few years. Not unless they were buckled into a helicopter and flown over their lands anyway. What was a city dragon to do? O knew they could head for the temples, request the offerings the nuns constantly suggested were waiting for them. But it felt like selling out. O wasn't ready for that yet. The season was only half over.

Not that giving a few blessings was the worst they'd ever done, but it felt wrong when they didn't believe in the idea that they could actually complete the spiritual requests. This was the 21st century. Who really still believed in this stuff?

The bun was warm in their hands, which was nice. The city was always so windy and wet. They skipped through the streets, wondering what their dad would say about the path their life had taken from chasing sheep to this city halfway around the world where old timers technically worshiped their kind.

They were just popping the last of the bun into their mouth when something grabbed their tail.

It should be clear to most individuals that a dragon's tail is very sensitive. Able to detect each small change in the atmosphere for flight and attune to any shift in temperature, a dragon's tail is delicate and very personal.

O should be forgiven for the slew of profanities--in multiple languages--they proceeded to spray at the culprit. At least until they turned to see a tiny child behind them, tears streaming down her chubby cheeks.

"Hey, sweets!" They called to the child, puffy red eyes not even blinking at them. "You want a bit of bun?"

One of the greatest skills a dragon has, at least one who has spent even the slightest bit of time trying to learn it, is the ability to speak in all languages at once. O didn't often use this skill, as it tended to freak anyone with even the most rudimentary understanding of a second or third language all the way out. There just wasn't a need. O would instead start with the most likely language based on location, and then reply with whatever language an individual used to tell them "No, I don't speak that."

Here, with this poor soul staring at her, they just wanted to get to the point as quickly as possible. Children should not be so scared and sad.

The babe grabbed for the bun and jammed it in her mouth. It had been a bit of a mouthful for a dragon; it doubled the size of this girl's face.

"Oh, dear one, slow down, you don't want to choke." Dragons spoke only sweet things to babies and children. In the old days, according to their father, dragons would hide under beds to tell children how wonderful they are and how much they are loved by the great wide world. The language of sweetness settled firmly on O's tongue and they relished it almost as much as the sweet bun they had just lost.

The lights of the city seemed so harsh. Why was it always so drippy when exciting things happened? O lifted the elbow of their wing over the child to keep the drippings of the awnings off her little head.

"Can I take you somewhere? Back to your da?" They looked around, but the streets remained empty of other people. Too late for the norms, too early for the afterpartiers.

"Can I hold your hand?" The girl reached up to grab the hand of the arm currently blocking her from the water. It was pudgy and warm, O worried about gripping too tightly, but the girl squeezed harder than expected and started swinging the arm back and forth.

"I am Emma. I am four. I wanted to see the dragon." Emma was using the sleeve of her other arm to wipe away the tears from her face. "We are on vacation and I am going to die. But it's okay because everyone dies. Today we took pictures and I wanted to see the dragon because the dragon is out my window, but we were busy. They said I got to see the dragon from the window. But I wanted to hold your hand." O hadn't spent a long time around children, they were pretty sure most didn't talk this much. They wished this one would stop talking about things that didn't answer their questions.

O had a hard time with human death. It didn't make a lot of sense. Dragons were always just as dragons were. They didn't age, they were never born. Dragons just were. If this child said she was going to die, well, yes, every human died. Maybe that had something to do with why the child had been sad.

"Were you crying because you are going to die? I didn't think most people thought about it on most days." O didn't know if they were being tactful enough, but over the years had found children didn't tend to care as much about tact as older humans.

"No. We've talked about that a lot. It's a reguly thing. I couldn't find the dragon. I ran to find you. I tripped." Emma pulled up her pant leg to show O a gash on her knee. O felt bad the poor thing had hurt herself. They made a tiny noise they'd heard their dad make when fussing over their own small blunders. They put their free hand upon the leg. "Thanks, it's not hurt anymore."

O was surprised, she thought most humans spent a long time caterwauling over hurts that would have stopped causing pain much faster.

"My sister is new." Emma looked sad for a minute. "Gram says dragons grant wishes. I want someone to watch over the baby since I won't be a good big sister."

O was lost. Siblings were not something they came across often. Adults didn't spend much time with them, and children mostly talked about their parents. Sometimes they fought with siblings, but that didn't seem like the only possibility. It certainly didn't seem like something a good big sister would do.

O didn't want to tell this little girl they didn't have the power to grant wishes. They didn't want to turn her gram into a liar. Beyond that, they really wanted to help this child. They figured it wasn't much different from the "blessings" they gave at the temple. The girl would probably forget all about it before she was able to realize it wasn't true.

"Okay," they said. "Kneel on both knees. Your scrape won't hurt too much to do that?" The girl shook her head and solemnly let go of O's hand to kneel on the pavement. "That's right. Close your eyes and make your wish very big in your mind."

"Bigger than it's always been?" The girl opened one eye to stare at O as if this was the most impossible thing she'd ever been asked.

"As big as you can make it." O tried to be as solemn as the girl. They had a feeling this was more important than they could understand. "And bright, you want to imagine it's lit up like a neon sign."

"Like a Christmas tree?" The girl was surrounded by neon, but children's minds seemed to gravitate to winter celebrations.

"Just like," O agreed. They reached out their claw and could feel the wish inside the girl's head as it got closer to her brow. O found that they really wanted to grant this wish, to let the girl be the big sister she truly wanted to be, to heal this one hurt that had saddened her.

As the claw reached the girl's brow, there was a sting of static electricity. Strange in a night so damp.

"Ouch," Emma said. "I didn't know wishes hurt." O did their best not to laugh but nodded seriously. They held out their hand to help the girl out. This time she let go almost immediately. "I need to go, Momma will be afraid she couldn't find me."

"Okay, you need to keep your wish very big for as long as you can. Can you do that?" The girl nodded, once, almost falling over with emphasis. "Good. I hope you have a good vacation."

She ran off, into a nearby doorway. O convinced themself that if the child could find her way out she could find her way in, but walked by the door anyway. A larger woman was bent down, hugging her as Emma seemed to try wriggling free while talking more than O had ever seen anyone talk. How could a little mouth be so large?

They reached into their pocket for the coins to buy another bun and decided maybe they could spare an hour to listen to the wishes and prayers of others. Whistling they turned away from home, toward the bright candle-lit doorway of the temple.