Newly Broke Heroine! [Book One Complete, Cozy Fantasy Adventure]

Later in the evening, Fiona flopped back on the couch and let out an audible groan to no one in particular. "What does a woman have to do to catch a break? Scheming kings, scheming dragon thieves, psycho exes, bad customers, bankrupt kingdoms. Most other people don't have to deal with any single one of those."

She rested her head on the couch end pillow and stared at the rough-hewn beams that formed the trusswork above her. She always loved that rough wood appearance of the building, along with the brickwork. It reminded her of home, almost.

A slight scraping sound and the clack of cabinet doors could be heard in the kitchen area, drawing her attention. "Hey, what are you doing over there?" she called out.

"Making dinner. You sound a bit more stressed than normal." She turned her head to peer over the armrest and saw a pair of bright red feathered wings and the kobold attached to them at work in the kitchen. Doug rummaged through the icebox and waved away the resident ice elemental, busy pelting him with miniature snowflakes. "Oh, sod off, you goober. I'm not stealing your frozen dairy cream," he grumbled.

"Hey, treat Icee with respect! She works overtime for me," Fiona said, sinking her chin on the armrest and laying her fingers on it, while flexing her legs gently. "I don't get elementals, even as long as I've been here. They're so weird. They're like…what's the word, fey spirits?"

"They're simpler than you and me. They understand us, but don't communicate in quite the same way." Fiona giggled when Doug turned, and she saw bits of snow matted on the feathers of his scalp. He brushed them away with one claw and continued as if it hadn't bothered him. "They're not tied to the marks. They're just part of the natural magic of the world. Strangely, they don't need much substance. I don't know how you got this one to subsist on frozen dairy cream."

"Ice cream! It's a delicacy on Earth!" She declared, one hand pumped into the air. "I tried making cookie dough ice cream, with limited success. Anyway, it's kinda interesting that Icee fills the gap on a lack of a refrigerant pump cycle."

Doug nodded and showed a small gathering of tubers, a raw steak slab, and a few other assorted ingredients. "I believe I know what you speak of. Some parts of Cepalune have developed tech like that. But with magic…why bother?"

"Because tech is reliable?" she proposed. Then she sat up, as if having a delayed reaction. "Waaait, my brain is delayed. You're making me dinner? I invited you to hang out, not–"

Doug chuckled softly as he cleaned his claws in the sink, then proceeded to mince up garlic and cut the tubers with a knife from the rack. "Fiona, I know you have some cooking skills, but you're underutilizing them. Besides, this is something I enjoy doing. I also haven't acquired a proper cook set at the small place I'm at."

"Wait. You were serious earlier when you used to cook when traveling?" she asked. "Shame on me for ever doubting you."

He let out a rolling laugh. "Oh, I'm glad I can surprise you! And yes, I do. My mother did, too."

There was a tinge of sadness in those few words, and his golden eyes dimmed for a small second. "I learned it from her. She also eased us into a habit of transforming into humans fairly often. It made it easier to maneuver in the kitchen, for what it's worth."

"So, dragons are natural shapeshifters?" She sprang up from the couch before Tucker could settle on her. The cat yowled at this loss of resting spot, but sprawled out on the seat as compensation for the lack of cozy elves to rest on. Fiona walked over to the kitchen, where Doug had prepared a small bowl with marinade. She nodded thoughtfully at the effort already put in. "Garlic, ginger…I smell a salty sauce similar to Worcestershire sauce, but not quite. The flavor's a little sweeter. Uh, did you add any salt?"

"Yes. And a little king's leaf. It gives it a bit more of an earthly flavor profile." He put the freshly chopped herb in and let the marinade sit for a bit. When he turned to face her, his tail hit the leg of the table and shifted it, and he winced. "Sorry. Still getting used to the spatial awareness thing. Even with a few months in this situation."

"I noticed." It was strange all these little details she didn't note about him before–there was a subtlety that she started to appreciate. "Anyway, back to my moment of curiosity. So, dragons can shapeshift? But Bonnie can't? The reason I'm curious is the inconsistency. In Earth mythology, some kitsune can assume the form of a human. So can other folks. Like the wolven."

Doug tapped one horn on his head, as if thinking. "I've heard of this. Dragons have some common ancestry with humans. I don't pretend to understand that one. Or, maybe everything branched off humans?" He squinted, as if unsure. "What's also odd is that we have mana crystals in our bodies. A separate power source from magic, and not native to Cepalune."

"Like, the ones we use for our power sources here?" she asked, and pulled out her relay for emphasis. She pulled the back casing off to show the small glowing crystal housed in a tube of liquid.

"Yes and no. This mana is slightly different from that in the dragons' bodies. The story I've heard is that the most magical species on Earth can assume a human form. But here on Cepalune, something didn't translate over. Or, maybe people migrated from Cepalune to Earth, and it became an acquired power? It's a scattered history even I don't understand." He shrugged his wings lightly. "I think it's a specific type of magic, and a combined biological adaptation, that makes shapeshifters what they are." Doug let out a soft sigh. "I wish she'd written more of it down."

"I saw a guy turn into a tree in our store. I think I'm past questioning what is possible," she emphasized. "Though that was…transfiguration? Not quite the same thing? Bonnie tried explaining the magic types, and I don't quite understand it yet. Some magic is consistent, some is not."

"It takes a while. You never knew magic before this," Doug assured her. "For going on almost a year, you've learned a lot."

"I wish the mages hadn't been hiding on Earth. Or, maybe they're the reason giant monsters came out of the ground and wrecked the place." Fiona nudged him out of the way to inspect the steak marinade and let out a sigh of contentment.

It was lacking something. She looked at the ingredients, then added a bit more garlic to the marinade. "I'm an Italian girl. You can never have enough garlic."

"Oh?" He crossed his arms and gestured to the tubers. "What do you propose we do with these? I'm fond of a mash with butter and herbs; they have no real flavor by themselves."

She had an idea on this one. "Add salt, garlic, a little bit of that green herb…it's like rosemary, but not quite, and parsley." It still took time for her to adjust to some of the foods that didn't quite line up with Earth. Luckily, they were all edible for most Folk species.

She waved to the tubers. "We'll cut them into strips about the length of your finger, add a little oil and the seasonings I listed, and bake them in the oven. Oh, wait, I forgot a step. First, you need to boil them for a few minutes to remove some of the starch. Then, they crisp up good."

"Fried tubers? Oh, I'll have to try this," he grinned before grabbing a pan off the stove and tapping the lighter. The fire elemental inside let out a hiss of protest, and Doug glanced at her, pointing to the stove. "I think your elemental is hungry."

She snapped her fingers in response. "Wanna know the trick? Marshmallows." She grabbed one out of a package in a cabinet and gently placed it in the oven. A fiery hand emerged briefly to grab the gift, and it made a small sound of surprise. The roughly cat-sized elemental took the treat and swallowed it in one go, cooking it from the inside out. With that, the stove lit up, and it was her turn to smile. "The things you learn."

What she liked more was Doug's willingness to roll with it. He let out a soft chuckle. "Even when your eccentricity lands you in trouble, it's surprisingly endearing."

With their dinner plan in place, they got to work chopping up the tubers, and broccoli to round out the meal.

Or, she thought it was broccoli. It looked different, but had the same crisp taste. She bit into one raw, to test it out. It was crunchy and fresh.

Meanwhile, Doug stared at her. "Is that a thing people from Earth do?" he asked, eying one chopped broccoli head in curiosity.

"Well, not everyone." She shrugged and helped dice the tubers, and put them in a pot with a small layer of water to steam. "You know something? This is a welcome return to a relatively new normal. We spent most of the past week playing catch-up and dealing with the fallout from Barry's boneheaded moves."

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"I for one, welcome the quiet," he replied, clicking his tongue lightly. "I'm still not full-sized yet. Bonnie thinks she can crack Glados' spell without that woman's cooperation, but it might take a while. Even with her spellbook and recipes on hand."

"Bonnie's the best mage I know personally, and I know her reputation from the guild is that she's their go-to."

Still, a nagging unease persisted in Fiona's mind. "I hate asking, but what if you were stuck like this? I mean, in my situation, I think about Bianca. I worry that she'll never be the same, and it's not unfounded. I still look in the mirror, and…" She let out a soft sigh. "I changed far more than getting a set of long ears and uncanny dexterity, personally."

[And me.]

"And the addition of my plus one," she added, rolling back her sleeve to display Wingding hovering energetically. Her mark was still glowing slightly, which Fiona found odd.

Doug finished putting the tubers in the oven and considered the possibility. "There seems to be more powerful changes at work when gods and goddesses are involved. I can understand that even with positive benefits, you may never feel like yourself again. Not wholly."

"Maybe. But maybe some change was good, at least in my case."

He regarded the comment for a second before responding. "Going back to your question, could I live like this? Maybe. I mean, it's not all terrible." He glanced at his wings and let out a contented sigh. "I can corner far better than I used to with my wings in flight. Dragons are not aircraft, as you are wont to describe."

"Fighter jets," she corrected. "I'm sure we could strap on an arcane jetpack one day to test it out."

"Please, no," he waved his hands, looking averse to even the mention of this idea. "The gnomes of Balderdain, way off in the east, are one of those tech-minded kingdoms I mentioned. Well, sixty percent gnomes, a mixing pot of others. Anyway, long story short? Accidents due to magical mishap are the leading cause of injury."

"Really? Man, maybe there's a hope for cable TV again! I miss Netflix," she sighed. He raised a brow at this. "C'mon, your mother never mentioned television?"

"I think it was in its infancy when she was brought here. But she did speak of songs that travelled through the air, and sound came out of wooden and metal boxes, wires and glass tubes that would carry voices afar." His words had an almost whimsical quality to them. "Not unlike our relays, but with tech."

"My goodness. You mentioned you were seventy-something. If she didn't have any kids for a few years after arriving here–um…" she trailed off, trying to fathom that. "That would put her at the turn of the century. Twenties, Thirties, maybe. Back when radio really started taking off."

"Indeed. I remember she used to sing songs she learned during her time on Earth. It was…a different kind of song. The ones I remember were slow. Filled with melancholy, but also with a beauty of a different kind." His words were almost wistful. It got her thinking.

"What does a dragon sound like when they sing? I have trouble fathoming that."

O-oh, I don't sing," he backpedalled, wagging his hands like it was a bad idea for him. "I mean, not well."

She leaned in, curious. "C'mon, I wanna hear it! It doesn't have to be opera. Next thing you'll tell me, that there are dragoness divas out there who sing for the masses!"

He coughed awkwardly at that idea. "U-um…my mother did say she ran into a dragoness who did that. Once. The less said about that woman, the better, and it sounded like said diva was a bit dangerous. And I'm not singing."

Hmm. Alright, I need to offer something first. I think I can convince him. "Tell ya what, I'll sing first. After dinner," she proposed. She racked her brains, trying to think of something from that era.

She was drawing a blank. About her only recollection of songs from that era was old movies, and that was hardly a wide net. Sing-alongs for Disney? Sheesh, slim pickings.

And yet, there was one that stood out. And felt on note for her. "C'mon, I don't sing decently either, but my mother loved singing. More than my father, at any rate," she added with an eye roll.

He considered the proposal, and finally smiled. "Alright, you're on. But first, dinner."

As it turned out, Doug knew how to cook steak to perfection, and her expertise on the fries drew accolades. She almost giggled at the absurdity of a miniature dragon eating French fries.

"Alright, you know what, Fiona? This is probably one of the better things I've tried that originated from Earth. Though we've got no potatoes, as you've pointed out."

"Close enough for me!" The tubers did carry a slight flavor, and they also had a coarser texture than what she remembered from potatoes. But they cooked exactly the same, much to her delight. "Anyway, that one's pretty easy. I'm sure there are plenty of others I could teach you. Aaand, since I don't anticipate a crisis in the next few hours…"

She sauntered away from the small table to the cabinet over the icebox and grabbed a bottle of wine and a two thin-stemmed glasses. She spun merrily and brought them back to the table. "Wine? Wait, hang on. Do dragons have to worry about… auto-ignition, in your case?" she asked casually.

He laughed heartily in response. "You would think that, but no. It's uh…it's a different tract. We produce alchemical products and store them for our flame breath in a series of glands. True for kobolds, and dragons." He examined the bottle, tapping the label with one claw before letting out a sound of surprise. "Melanie Orchard. I know that place."

"You do?" She had no idea he'd recognize it. "You've bought wine before?"

"No. Actually, I sold them peat fertilizer. Quite a lot. They were one of my best clients." He jabbed one claw into the cork and stuck his tongue out of the corner of his snout as he gently worked the cork out. After a few seconds, he popped it out with a dull thunk. He then offered the cork to her. "For the aromatics?"

She wasn't quite as sophisticated as Doug, but she took a sniff. Rich currant, grapes, and blackberries all combined for a scent that reminded her of her favorite wine from home. "Oh, that is good. Jake got this for me after my first job with the guild. I waited a while to open this one." She laughed softly as she examined the cork. "On-demand bottle opener, nice! I think Bonnie's claws are too short for that."

"They have their uses. Dragons still hunt in the wild. For me, cooked meals are preferable," he shrugged. "Though…um…I do file them down a bit. It can be impractical when interacting with soft-skinned Folk."

"You're not hard," she said, then sucked in her breath as she added hastily, "I mean, not like metal or bone. Your scales flex."

She narrowed her eyes when he raised a brow, looking smug. "Smooth, Swiftheart," he said confidently.

"Shut up, you know what I meant," she said with a playful growl. He didn't delay in filling the glasses a little, then they attended to the meal.

She wasn't disappointed.

"Well, color me surprised. Dragons can cook. And quite well, if I must say," she said with a note of admiration.

"And you're not as one-note as I initially believed." He sipped from the wine glass gently and swirled it around for a second. "Oh, that's rich. Good blend. Not to say I didn't have an impact on the flavor. Many types of produce pick up flavor from the minerals and nutrients in the soil. So, picking your fertilizer matters in the end product."

"Never would have thought of that." She finished off a slice of steak, noting it was medium rare, juicy, and flavored nicely. "You must have done this a lot. This is good."

"When I travelled–when Karlin wasn't kicking me around–I usually brought a small cook set with me. I'd sample the regional foods, then try to replicate them. Not always successfully. I still haven't got baking down," he added with a frown. "I'm more of a savory kind of dragon."

"So I noticed. What drew you to it?"

"Well…I dunno. Food is a slice of history, no pun intended. Sampling is knowing the techniques handed down, generation after generation, trial and error, culminating in a delight for travelers." He tapped one claw against the glass, and she heard a soft ringing sound. "Bah. Sometimes I talk too much."

"That makes two of us," she sighed contentedly. "Have you ever had this urge to just…fill in the gap, when there's a quiet moment in a conversation? And you don't know what to say?"

"Oh, I know that feeling. I was more solitary growing up, on account of my mother's efforts. So, quiet became discomforting."

"Oh, that reminds me. We," she said with a smile, "should fill in this gap with song! I wanted to hear your singing voice!"

"Uh-um…but really…you go first," he conceded. She swore his scales on his cheek turned a slightly more rosy color. "Got a preference for anything in particular?"

She'd been mulling this one over the whole dinner. "One. I think. I don't know if you'll recognize it, though." In the distance, she heard the soft music in Granny's apartment across the access hall, dulled but still audible. She recognized it as a string instrument–maybe a violin?

But it wasn't distracting. Fiona pulled at a memory she knew by heart. She and her mother, cozying on a cold, rainy day on the couch, watching an old VHS tape. She remembered they'd shared a bowl of popcorn and a cup of cocoa steaming on the coffee table. And, probably on more than one occasion.

It was still one of her favorite movies. And, coincidentally, one of her favorite songs.

"Somewhere over the rainbow

Way up high

There's a land that I heard of

Once in a lullaby."

As she sang, she noted Doug perked up at this, including the little feather crest that normally covered his ears. Then he joined in.

The realization hit her: he knew this song, too.

"Somewhere over the rainbow

Skies are blue

And the dreams that you dare to dream

Really do come true."

Fiona didn't stop or look at him in amazement. Instead, she kept singing the song that was ingrained in her memory. No transmigration could take that from her.

She never realized that the song could serve as a duet. But the richness in Doug's voice complemented her own softer, melodious voice. He swayed gently as he ran through the lyrics, with rolling 'r's that carried his slight accent.

As they finished, she couldn't help but notice Doug was a little misty-eyed. Two different worlds…two different lifetimes…and we still have things in common.

Doug waited a few seconds before taking a calming breath. "That was one of the last songs she memorized before she came here to Cepalune. I'd almost forgotten it."

Fiona, too, could feel a clench of heartache, but the good kind. "My mom introduced me to The Wizard of Oz. I read the books long before I saw the movie. And you know something? It's a really good one to remember home by."

"Aye, it is." He glanced at her, running one claw through his feathery mane. "Do you uh…mind if I stay a bit longer?"

She glanced over at the wine bottle, still quite full, and smiled. "You know something? Let's restock the fireplace and grab a spot on the couch. I think this is one of those nights to hang at home."