This week had been crazy.

There was some sort of illness spreading among dragons. At this point in time, no one really knows how big of an issue it actually is. Dragons were not producing flame. They were more aggressive than usual, and they seemed disoriented. The mothers were laying defected eggs. The eggs as a whole were being neglected, and now the handlers and the dragonzoologists had to focus on hatching the eggs as well as nurturing the sick dragons. It looked like they might need to be quarantined soon, but it was hard to tell at this point.

Al didn’t even want to think about how this was going to affect anyone who needed non-contaminated dragon products. You couldn’t use dragon heartstring, blood, or scales of a dragon who died of an illness.

He had received a letter to take some eggs from one habitat to another, where some handlers were setting up a safe area for eggs to be hatched with foster mothers. Alphonse wasn’t sure how the mother dragon would handle it—would she even care if they took them, when she wasn’t even caring for them? Still, he needed to be prepared. So he brought Margo Amherst along.

By brought her along, he had tossed a folder at her and said, “You, you’re coming with me.” With the assumption that she knew what he was doing.

She probably didn’t, now that Al thought back on it. At least he had given her the file to look over. But it was time to get her back on the field. It was ridiculous, the amount of paperwork she did in proportion to direct dragon work. They needed people to handle dragons and their eggs directly now more than ever.

“We’re retrieving Ukranian Ironbelly eggs today. Three of them are defected, two of them are being neglected. Nevertheless, they need to be separated from the mother. She’s ill.” Al said grimly, “Do you have any questions?”

Margo had pretty much spent the past two years doing anything but what she wanted to.  Healing in a hospital for almost an entire year, then sitting behind a desk for another?    It was torture.  So, she found herself again, behind a desk, looking at the dates as they loomed closer and closer to the two-year mark.  The end of March would bring with it the baggage one might expect.

Sighing heavily, she folded her arms on her desk in front of her and put her head down.  The last thing she wanted to do was stamp approval for Westley Slanderson to go to Romania.  He was a prat. 

She felt something hit her – looking up to discover it was an unlabeled file, and then a very clipped order for her to come along.  Margo blinked, lifting her head in surprise and did not have time to react, other than grab the file and follow. 

She flipped it open – not very thick, just a few papers and a memo – which she glanced over as Alphonse talked at her. 

Her heart sped up in her chest.  She didn’t want to get ahead of herself, but he was using ‘we’ when he spoke.  It didn’t sound too… heavy on the job, but mother dragons were rough – and eggs were very cool.  She’d done some research with nesting and egg care (mostly in relationship to hunting), but she could get into it if it was what was allowing her back in the field. 

The only question she had to ask, shutting the file for herself, was, “I’m not just taking notes or something, am I?”

He turned and gave Margo an incredulous look that implied that such questions were idiotic. “If you were taking notes, you might as well not have come, correct?” Alphonse replied. To those who didn’t know him, he may have sounded a bit irritated—to those who knew him, he simply sounded like he thought she gave him an exceedingly stupid question. In his mind, it was an unnecessary one. Al thought that she knew him better than that—but then again, he ewas known as a nortorious rule-follower. This was out of the norm for him.

But dragons didn’t care about paperwork. The best way to help dragons was to work with them directly.  To care for their eggs when they wouldn’t, or couldn’t, anymore.


He was all for rule breaking, if it was for the greater good.

“You will help me retrieve the eggs. The mother should be separated and subdued by now. It’s an easy task. But it’s best to work in pairs—you never know what will happen.”

He stopped in front of a fireplace and pulled some floo powder out of his pocket. Al handed some to her.

“We’re going to the sanctuary in Wales.” It was known mostly for Welsh Greens, but they had a few other breeds there as well- some of them foreign. The eggs that they were retrieving were not Welsh Green eggs, but rather the eggs of a rather ill Ukrainian Ironbelly. He threw his powder into the fireplace, stepped in, and enunciated the location clearly.

Then he was there. Al stepped out of the fireplace, and greeted a few of the dragon handlers who were taking a (well deserved) break in the office. Al checked in with the fellow at the front desk and flashed his ID. “My partner—“ he motioned towards the fireplace, where Margo was due to show up at any second, “And I are here for the Ironbelly eggs.”

Margo knew Alphonse didn’t mean to sound like a giant tool – even if that’s what she perceived him to be like at that moment.  His response to her question was short, and while she knew that sometimes things were irritating, she didn’t know if he had gone through Balfour or not.  Her requests for field assignments for the past six months had all been denied – even though she had put an excruciating amount of effort into them.  “Just askin,” she snorted in response with a gruff shrug of her shoulders. 

And, standard rule of thumb was Margo didn’t put effort into anything she didn’t truly care about.  The crazier part was, she did it more than once – and still – denied!  It wasn’t beyond what she could have expected to have to do something clerical somewhere else, but with the assurance that she didn’t have to, Margo’s heart pounded in her chest. 

It wasn’t anything too intense: removing some eggs, subdued female dragon.  It wasn’t going to put her directly on the front lines yet, sure, but it was a step up from sitting inside a cubicle all day.  “Of course,” she responded simply, taking the floo powder from him and weighing it in her hand. 

She nodded, watching him floo and followed along.  Wales had been her first assignment when she’d joined up.  It was going to be weird.  She wondered if Gustavo was still in charge.  She should probably know that….

Ah well, she didn’t have to worry about looking it up, she’d just find out.  She threw down the powder and in her best voice, announced her location – even though she felt like her vocal chords were shaking.  The floo swept her up and she started tumbling – of course – high speed and distance with arms and legs flailing. 

It was much the same when she jettisoned out of the fireplace on all fours, covered in a healthy layer of soot.  A cough escaped her as the dust around her billowed before even starting to settle.  She glanced upward, a half smile on her face with an awkward laugh – sort of cough, “Yup... here for duty…”  She sat back on her heels, brushing her hands off on her leather pants and reached for her ID in her back pocket (all from the ground).  Margo held up the badge as she pushed herself off the ground and finally stood next to her partner.

Glancing over, she failed to feel shame, so smiled instead and put her hands on her hips.  “Let’s get to those eggs, shall we?” 

Of course she had to give them the most graceful entry possible.

Al shook his head, but he couldn’t resist smiling the tiniest bit. Typical Margo. Good thing they weren’t doing anything too risky today. Although he wanted her to work directly with dragons, she was out of practice. It was best to start with the small stuff first—like dragon eggs. There were other handlers in the area whose job it was to keep the mother dragon separate. All he needed to do was retrieve the egg. It was simple. It was a job he could’ve done by himself.

But why take all the glory when a perfectly capable handler was stuck behind a desk? She was obviously not happy there. You didn’t have to be a legilimens to figure that one out.

“You’ve got soot on your everywhere.” He commented, looking Margo up and down. “You could say that it….” Al grinned devilishly “Suits  you.” Oh Alphonse, you joker.

“Pendry here is going to lead us to the eggs—“ Zephyr motioned towards a rather portly handler with fair skin, no eyebrows, and wild hair that was burnt at the tips. “You can do the honors.” He motioned to the area in front of him, silently letting her know that he wanted her to go ahead of him. It was partially a precaution—this way someone could literally watch her back while Pendry led the way.

It was very important that Margo did not betray the fact that the fall had made her hip hurt a little.  It wasn’t the time or place to look like a baby – or risk not getting to go outside.  Instead, she tried to (as discreetly as possible) roll her hip, disguised as cocking it out to the side and shifting her weight, she just had to… readjust a little – and it seemed to do the trick, even with the slight eye wince as she got back into place. 

At least Alphonse had a sense of humor: maybe it distracted from her awkward.  She knew of a few people who would have just rolled their eyes at her and apologized for her idiocy.  Instead he was making lame puns.   “Just, you know, trying to blend in with the surroundings,” she grinned back, reaching up to rub her hand on her cheek, smudging the soot a little bit more. 

The portlier man did not seem as amused by their banter, but then again, he smelled (And looked) a little crispy, so perhaps his patience was wearing thin for the day.  She’d had that look before, after all – though, small vanities would have made her balk at the idea of no eyebrows. 

“Well, Pendry,” Margo grinned, earning a sort of grunt-snort response from the handler, “Lead the way!” She clapped him on the shoulder (perhaps not the smartest idea, but already done), and she looked over her shoulder at Alphonse, “So this Ironbelly,” she chirped, “She’s ill – but with what?”

It seemed like a simple enough question, and for her that hadn’t seen the case file, she didn’t understand the look that Pendry gave her before he frowned.  “Don’t right know,” he was frowning.  “Figure the eggs might've got it too,” he added, and Margo frowned as well.  That was just odd! 

More ill dragons. He gave Margo a concerned look, though it was fleeting. “There’s sick dragons everywhere now, it seems. Here’s hoping it doesn’t spread.” Maybe it was a coincidence, but his gut instinct was telling him otherwise. He didn’t want all these illnesses to be connected, but it was too early for anyone to draw accurate conclusions. “Wasn’t there a similar case, with a Hebridean Black last week? And a Short-snout just a few days ago?” Al cleared his throat.

Pendry nodded, “Rumor has it, they were havin’ problems with the vipertooths in Peru last month. I dunno if I’d say anythin’s serious right now but..” The rest didn’t need to be said.

“Looks like we have something we’ll have to talk to Balfour about.” He muttered. It wasn’t long before they reached the eggs. There were handlers surrounding the Ironbelly—but it didn’t look like she was fighting at all. Just wandering around, almost dazed. It was almost as if she didn’t notice the people around her. That certainly wasn’t normal mother dragon behavior.

 Margo had surely heard of the sick dragons, but only in a sort of “Eh, that’s sad on that reserve” sort of way up until this point.  Sure, people were transferring to deal with things and make moves, but that was so normal for her it didn’t really register.

Listening to Alphonse and Pendry go back and forth, it didn’t sound very normal – particularly with the hit to Peru as well – that was a ways off.  Maybe it was just Europe or something… but all the way over there… she pursed her lips in thought. 

“Maybe look at some personnel movement as well,” she thought out loud, wondering just a little bit if she needed to take a look if there were some common denominators.  She probably couldn’t do it herself, there were a lot of people, many not from the British office, but she also supposed it couldn’t hurt to note it if things really were going this way.

That fled her mind when she saw the dazed, female dragon though.  Margo immediately felt horrible. “That’s a sorry sight,” she breathed, stopping in her tracks a moment.  Dragons – especially mothers with eggs – were usually so lively, quick to move and breathe and know things.  When you looked into the eye of a dragon, you just understood someone was home – but this female looked like all the lights were out upstairs. 

She glanced at Alphonse and then Pendry.  “Looks like getting these eggs won’t be much of a problem,” Margo assessed with a hint of sadness in her voice, looking down at the pile of eggs that would usually be incubated in a warm, healthy fire, but now were almost only warmed by embers.  “Sad,” she murmured, pulling a pair of thick gloves from Pendry’s pockets.  “I’ll send ‘em back,” she promised, starting to pull them on as she looked to Zephyr, “Got yours?” she flexed her hands inside the thick leather gloves, perfect for carrying warm eggs. 

“I’m wondering, if infected eggs could spread… Whatever is going on.” Al cleared his throat. If it was being spread so far—it had to be something with trade. It wasn’t too uncommon for eggs to be transported from one sanctuary to another, whether it was for safety or studies. “If that is the case, we need to be…. We need to be sure that these eggs don’t come in contact with any other dragons. And we should make sure that we’re thoroughly clean of any magically transmitted diseases before working with healthy dragons. “

It was just a precaution.

This was something that would need to be reported to Balfour, quickly.  Hatching these eggs with a foster mother might not be the best idea—it seemed that maybe these eggs would have to be hatched by handlers themselves.

He put on his gloves while Pendry and a few other handlers made sure to watch their backs, even if it probably wasn’t necessary in this situation.

Al gingerly picked up up one of the eggs, stone cold and heavy. Yet, there was something fragile about them—more fragile than the usual eggs were. “Do you notice it too?” It was as if the shell was thinner than usual, that the smallest bump could crack it. It wasn’t normal, not for Ukranian Ironbelly eggs.  They weren't healthy, and a knot of sadness began to form in his stomach, though he wasn't about to show it.
 

Margo shrugged: the same question had floated through her mind: if these eggs were carrying whatever had the mother dragon lethargic and disoriented, it probably wasn’t going to be the best idea to bring them to another reserve, at least with a surrogate.  There were ways to tend to abandoned eggs, though not always effective, probably better than risking another female.

Of course, Margo had to snort at his comment about working with healthy dragons – maybe that was a concern for Alphonse, but she doubted, after her gazillion attempts to get back into the field she’d get to.  She’d still try though, and she’d have to be aware.   “Maybe the Norwegian hatchery has space,” Margo commented as they approached the eggs.

She tugged her gloves on – any precaution was necessary, and bent her knees to pick up one of the eggs.  It wasn’t radiating heat like a healthy egg would, and Margo cradled it with caution, not wanting to disturb the potentially very ill fetus inside. 

Looking at Alphonse, Margo took a deep breath.  “These eggs need some heat,” Margo started with, running her heavy glove hand over the shell.  “Do you think they’re alive?” she frowned a little, never knowing a live dragon egg to be so cold or so fragile.   

Al shook his head, “I don’t know yet.” He put his hand on his egg again and waited. “There’s some movement.” But it was very faint. If they were alive, they wouldn’t be for long without the proper care theyneeded. It seemed like their next stop would have to be the hatchery. And then, to Balfour’s office. Alphonse was already writing a letter in his head, to be sent to other dragon sanctuaries and hatcheries. Something as serious as this needed to be addressed, and with haste.

“Let’s not linger.” Zephyr said, walking away briskly, but with great care with the eggs. “Today’s going to be a long one.”

End Scene