Jade:

  As we turned to the parking lot of the mall. Ashira sat in the passenger seat with the warmer on full blast.

  She'd asked—no, demanded—to warm the seat herself, claiming it helped "regulate her elemental alignment." Pretty sure she just liked being toasty.

  “Do you feel better?” I asked, side-eyeing her from the driver’s seat.

  “Yes, do you have anymore of those duck things?” she asked like they didn’t offend her.

  “You mean duck liver?” I corrected.

  “Yes!” She perked up, eyes gleaming like I'd just offered her a crown.

  “I threw them out since you said they tasted like dirt.”

  A little huff steam rose from her snout.

  This is going to be a long night. I pulled the car into a handy cap space, since the mall was closed and no one is going to need it. I turned the car off.

  “Were getting out already!” She complained like she paid the bills.

  Gods help me.

  “Yes, we are getting out,” I said, grabbing my bag and slinging it over one shoulder. “Because unlike some of us, I don’t get to lounge around in seat-warmed luxury and insult your snacks.”

  She hopped out behind me.

  “What are we doing out here instead of sleeping?” she finally asked, instead of asking before I loaded her up.

  “To clear my head and your brand ruined any chance of sleep.” I snapped.

  She trilled at my words.

  Like I’d just complimented her.

  “Oh, you’re proud of that?” I snapped, kicking the car door shut.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “It bonded us. It’s beautiful. And it only slightly burned your skin.”

  “It glowed like molten ink, Ashira. I thought I was dying.”

  “But you didn’t. Character development.”

  I gritted my teeth and stomped across the cracked pavement, the echo of my footsteps loud in the empty lot. The mall loomed ahead, all glass panels and shuttered entrances. Just enough emergency lighting to keep it from looking fully abandoned. Mostly.

  Ashira padded alongside me with far too much grace for something that’d once asked if napalm shit was normal.

  “Where are we going?” she asked finally, voice quieter now.

  I didn’t answer at first. Just pulled my hoodie tighter and crossed into the shadow of the service corridor on the side of the mall.

  “To paint something,” I said. “Something big. Something real.”

  She tilted her head.

  “To burn a little of it out of me,” I muttered. “Before it eats me alive.”

  “You’re not going to burn!” Ashira barked.

  Gods, I will throttle this flame thrower.

  We walked to the loading docks behind the mall. The walk was short—ten minutes tops—but Ashira begged to be carried the entire way like the pavement personally offended her claws.

  “These stones are uneven. This is beneath me. I could sprain a talon.”

  “I’ll get you orthopedic boots,” I muttered.

  “They’d better match my scales.”

  By the time we reached the docks, the night had settled into that eerie, dead-silent stillness. No traffic. No buzz of streetlights. Just us, the spray can rattling in my bag, and the rune on my chest giving off the faintest, low thrum—like it was ready.

  Ashira hopped up onto a broken pallet and stretched her wings just enough to flex.

  “This is acceptable.”

  “Glad your standards are met.”

  I scanned the wall—blank, wide, perfect. Faded warnings stenciled in peeling red letters read AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY, which in my language meant: ideal canvas.

  I pulled the spray can from my bag. It felt heavier than it should’ve. Like it already knew what it was about to do.

  Ashira curled her tail around her feet.

  “What are you doing with that thing?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Moments later.

  We stood before my canvas, I took a deep breath. Dropped my bag with a heavy thunk. Ashira sat next to the bag looking me with those big beautiful green eyes.

  “I’m seeing you stare at a wall, is that what you’re doing?”

  “Hush Ashira!” I barked.

  “Um hello, I am quiet. I’m speaking to you in your mind, you can do it too.”

  I rolled my eyes at her then turned back to my canvas shook my pant. The hiss of the can felt better than drugs or I was in haling it. The form came from deep within my core.

  Drawing.

  The painting was second nature bring back old happy memories. Of me and my, birthdays, meeting my step-siblings, and when my mysterious biological father gifted me my car. I still want to meet him, even though he doesn’t call just only sends gifts, letters, and money.

  A somber voice entered my head. “You look sad. Did I do something?”

  I stopped spraying, to pluck out a new can.

  “No.”

  I reached for my mango orange spray can, and started to spray. Each stroke of paint was like a story being told.

  Then time slowed.