'Lo there! Mmmrgh... why am i awake? *Ahem* Anyway, this chapter we've got a couple of baby dragons and one really big one.

53. Justice the Babysitter

Flux crouched low to the ground. Her paws flexed. Her butt wiggled. She pounced, sparks dancing between her claws as she plowed into Gigas and both went rolling over one another. They bounced off one of Justice's front paws as he watched them, amused.

They were so clumsy. Flux was all limbs—her tail was almost twice as long as the rest of her, and both her body and her legs were long and thin. She looked like a wind dragon that had been stretched, and it seemed like every time she moved, something got underfoot and she tripped.

Gigas was the opposite. He was shockingly heavy for his size, and waddled everywhere on short stubby legs. When he fell he sprawled like a boulder wherever he landed, and more often than not Flux would immediately trip over him in turn.

Justice wasn't sure what to make of it. He must have been this small at one point, but it was hard to imagine he'd ever been so uncoordinated. She hadn't been.

Heaving a sigh, he picked up Gigas by the scruff of his neck and extricated him from the heap. Flux had already proved she could stun small animals when she pounced like that—an unfortunate mouse that wandered into the tent had been her dinner the night before. Her brother was too big for that, but he still had a hard time getting up when they were tangled together and she kept shocking him.

"Stay still for a second," he grumbled. Flux froze immediately—for about half a second, before her tail started to twitch. Her eyes widened. Slowly, as if he wouldn't notice if she was stealthy enough, she reached out with her back leg to hold it down. Her left ear picked up the movement.

"Not that still." Instantly she went back to ruffling her wings and tapping her claws on the ground and winding her tail around her legs. Gigas, who had ignored him in favor of wandering around sniffing absolutely everything, looked up sharply and barked. Justice was about to ask him what the problem was when he perked up and bounded to the other side of the tent.

He turned to follow where the hatchling was looking, and tensed. She stared back at him from under a chair, her head poking through a hole in the tent floor. Justice hissed at her. A blink, and she was gone.

Gigas made a disappointed warbling sound. Justice nudged him with his tail. "She's a bad influence," he said loftily. Flux whined, her ears drooping.

Justice ignored the pouting, choosing instead to glare at the chair as if it was somehow to blame. He should tell Ilia about her. He should... but if he did, he'd have to explain that she'd been following them and attacking the lab. She'd know he knew, and hadn't done anything before now. He growled. He hated all these stupid secrets, and now he even had one from Ilia. Maybe it would be worth Sienna and the Lieutenant and the Albains being angry with him, if he didn't have to—

A little jolt, as Flux tripped over his tail. He twisted to watch as she recovered, balancing precariously between two of his spines. She blinked at him.

She and Gigas know, he realized. About the youngling that visited them, about the White Fang's plans, all of it. Not the lab, not yet, but he was sure Sienna and the Lieutenant would explain things to them soon. When they grew up... no more secrets.

His ears perked up. Now, as Gigas turned his curious stare on Justice's foot, he picked it up and batted playfully at the hatchling. He twanged in delight and rolled onto his back, stubby legs wiggling.

Justice had wanted so badly to see Rudder again, but they'd never been able to talk to each other either. There had always been secrets and schemes and loyalties that didn't line up. But these two could be his real siblings—ones he could talk to about anything. He could try to talk to Harbinger again, too. They'd been distant since the youngling ran away, but that had been because the stubborn hybrid hadn't wanted to seem like he missed her. Now, when the betrayal was less fresh and he had other little ones to bond with...

Yes. Justice nodded once, satisfied. He might find Rudder again one day, or he might not—but he needed to concentrate on the siblings he did have, not the ones he almost had a long time ago. As they grew, they would learn about the White Fang and why it was important to fight, and he could help teach them about the lab. He'd make sure the little ones understood. He couldn't let her mess things up by putting strange ideas in their heads.

When Ilia walked into the tent, Gigas was perched on the tip of Justice's nose, ruffling his tiny wings and peering at the world from this exciting new vantage point. Flux clung to his horns, her tail wound choker-tight around his neck. Her ears swiveled frantically back and forth.

Ilia tried not to break down giggling, she really did, but then Flux let out a little squeak and shocked Justice, and his startled snort bounced Gigas into the air. Her dragon shot her a betrayed look as she leaned heavily against the pole in the center of the tent and gasped for breath.

"Sorry," she managed, "but we have work to do."

She was then treated to the sight of Justice lying flat on his stomach with his chin on his paws, so that the two dragonets could clamber off of him. He trotted over to his rider while Flux squeaked and tried to wind around his paws, and almost tripped over the tether she was attached to. He tossed his head as if that would make any of this dignified.

Mouth still twitching with the effort of suppressing a smile, Ilia led him outside. "Okay," she said, patting Justice's neck. "This shouldn't be hard, we're just hitting a small broodery and grabbing as many eggs as we can."

He stood still while she strapped two large, padded sacks to his saddle. The smile that had been threatening to form faded as she stood there, hands flat against the leather, remembering the last time they'd gone out together.

Justice's ear flicked. She shook her head and climbed into the saddle, patting his shoulder once to let him know she was ready.

For once, the raid went off without a hitch. There was no security. The place was an old mom and pop style farm—their income came from chicken eggs as much as dragon eggs. "We're not going to hurt you," Ilia repeated over and over, while Justice growled and the old couple trembled. They filled each of the saddlebags. Both had six individual compartments, which meant they'd gotten away with a clean dozen. Not bad for an afternoon's work. They flew off in the opposite direction from their camp so that the humans wouldn't be able to help the cops find it, then landed to walk back through the woods.

Despite herself, Ilia relaxed. They were free and clear, and it was soothing to be back in the forest again, at just the right time for the sunlight to slant in gold between the leaves.

Somewhere off to their right, a twig snapped.

She froze. At first she wanted to dismiss it as an animal noise—though considering the sound, if it wasn't a person it must have been a bear. More followed it. Two person-sized somethings crashed through undergrowth, crunched over leaves, clattered down rocky slopes. Definitely human, to make that much noise.

Ilia could blend into the background easily... but there was no hiding Justice in time. She fell into a defensive crouch beside her dragon, and waited for the enemy to approach.

Two figures crested the hill. One man was in his late forties, his dark brown hair lightly salted with grey. The other was younger, probably Ilia's age. Both wore heavy backpacks. The older one had a long wooden walking stick.

When they spotted Justice, both stopped dead. "Uh, hi?" the younger one said, trying for a grin. "There, uh, there isn't a Grimm around here, is there? We hike here all the time, there's never been a—" The older one, probably his father, grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. He went silent.

Justice growled low in his throat, his claws flexing in the dirt. Ilia grabbed a fistful of the reins. "Turn around. Walk away."

"Dad," the son hissed, when his father didn't move.

"What are you doing out here?" the man demanded.

"None of your fucking business." Justice was starting to pull on the reins. Now was not the time to be polite. "Take your kid and go home."

The son made a grab for his arm. His father shoved him back, behind him, and tightened his grip on his walking stick. Justice glared at it and hissed. "You trying to get into town?"

"Dad, stop!"

Justice took a few steps forward, his tail flicking back and forth with enough violence to uproot a few small saplings. Ilia was dragged behind him by her grip on the reins. "Justice, don't," she whispered. "It's okay, he can't—"

"What are you going to do with him?" the father demanded. He swept his stick up to point at Justice. The dragon's ears went flat, his eyes narrowing to slits. Ilia's skin turned a vibrant, terrified orange. Heat surged under the scales of his neck.

"No!" she and the son shouted at the same time. Ilia set her shoulder against Justice's neck and shoved, while the boy tackled his father to the ground. A glob of fire hit dried leaves on the ground a few feet away from where the man had been standing. They burst into flame.

Finally, the two humans bolted.

Ilia slumped against Justice's neck, panting. "Don't do that!" she snapped, when she had enough breath back. "They weren't a threat!"

He growled again.

"They weren't! You could have really hurt him just now!"

"Ssscare."

"He would have been scared, and burned."

Justice grumbled and flicked an ear.

The rest of the journey back was tense and quiet. Ilia could feel the muscles in his back flexing as he flew, and for the first time felt a little unsettled at his incredible strength. If the man and his son hadn't backed down...

In the camp, Justice went back to being sweet and gentle with the little ones, and the anxious knot in her stomach eased a little. He wasn't a violent dragon, he was just protective. It wouldn't have been a problem if that idiot hadn't been so eager to pick a fight with a dragon armed with a walking stick.

Atlas Academy was deceptively calm. Students milled around in the courtyard, laughing and playing with their dragons. All unaware of the shift that was happening over their heads.

"What do you think?" Winter asked. Steele tilted his head as he considered the question.

It was dangerous. Very dangerous. But... "Rright."

Winter's smile was tight. "At least one of us is sure of that."

He butted his nose against her shoulder. She appreciated the gesture, he knew—though only when they were alone like this. Only where no one else could see. "Risssk," he agreed.

She sighed and lowered herself down, sitting cross-legged on the roof of the Academy's cafeteria. Steele curled up behind her so that she could lean against his side. Her eyes stayed locked on something far in the distance as she said, "This is going to escalate. We're talking about a war, and I don't—" She cut off. Grimaced. "I don't know where she is."

"Ffind," Steele promised.

Winter pressed her fingers against her temples. "That's not it. It's just—it would be different, if it was just us. The General, the professors, the Flight Squads. Not..."

"Sssmall."

"...Yes."

Steele shook his head. "Nno. Ice sssmart. Strrr..." He gave up on the second syllable. "Gud."

"I know that." She caught the look he was giving her and huffed. "I know."

"Ssscared."

Winter flinched. "If I just knew where they were," she muttered. "Or what they were doing, or who else was involved in all this—there are a lot of people who don't like the council, that's hardly a decent criteria for choosing an ally. And what if—"

Steele nudged her. "Nno."

"Independence is one thing, this is—it's insane, it's far more dangerous than anything she'd be doing as part of a Flight Squad and she hasn't even finished training yet!"

"Scared... 'kay."

Winter slumped. "It's not. I should trust her to look out for herself."

"Winn..."

She stood up abruptly, her lips pressing together in a thin line as she crammed everything she was feeling back down. Steele had no choice but to follow when she beckoned him. "She'll be fine," Winter said, and vaulted into the saddle.

He whistled agreement, hoping he could convince his rider that it was true.

Watts watched Cinder pace back and forth in his lab—something she'd been doing quite a lot of, recently.

"You've cost me twelve dragons already. Twelve. Do you have any idea of the difference that will make in the coming fight?"

"I've given you several hybrids," he pointed out. "So I believe my balance is actually at around nine dragons. I'm confident I'll bring the numbers back into my favor soon enough."

"Twelve so far. They're gone, Watts, and they're not going to stay quiet!"

"Oh, that." He smirked. "I believe I have the solution to that particular problem."

Cinder glowered at him. He waited patiently while her expression cycled through murderous fury, frustration, and cold calculation, and finally settled on a grimace. "What."

This was fun. He wasn't normally in such a strong bargaining position... but there were quite a few players on the board, now, and all of them so eager to tear out each other's throats. Even a small advantage was invaluable, and he could give Cinder quite a bit more than that. So he beckoned with one finger, watching with amusement as her fists clenched.

Too bad for her, really, that Cinder was too smart to kill him outright when the White Fang had proved so useless. Still... he'd pushed enough for today.

Watts led the way outside without any more smug remarks. Cinder was just about to snap at him again when they passed the first pit dragon. It was the big three-legged earth dragon, curled in a ball, fast asleep. Further along, the dark blue water dragon lay draped over the smaller Glory. Four of them were in a little heap—Watts recognized Tallow and Riptide, and assumed the others were probably their siblings.

"The meat," Cinder said, her voice flat. Nothing she hadn't already guessed.

"I had to use several small doses—can't risk one of them recognizing the smell."

Her lip curled. "I fail to see how this is supposed to help."

Watts doubted that. There was a tension in her shoulders that made him think she knew very well what he was about to say. She didn't like it, but she didn't have to. It was her best and only option, and she would take it. An unfortunate position to be in—he certainly didn't miss those days.

"Well, now that they're asleep..."

He turned a corner and stopped in his tracks. There before them was a slumbering colossus. Or it should have been. One of the monster's eyes was open. Not wide—just a glowing crimson slit. It twitched and growled, its tail lashing behind it.

Ah. It knows what's happening. Lovely.

"I did adjust the dose," Watts said, irritated. Even a dragon of this size should have been more than merely inconvenienced by enough sedatives to kill several elephants.

Alas. "Relax," he said, his voice low and soothing, as his hand dipped into his waistcoat pocket.

Smoke billowed between the creature's jaws. Its eyes opened wider. They rolled back and forth as it struggled to stay awake, its claws flexing. No fire, fortunately. Watts stepped closer. Even as the monster tried to flinch away, he slipped a small syringe from his pocket and delivered a final dose of sedative.

It went limp.

"There, now." Watts stroked its broad forehead. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

When Watts pulled a silver plate from his other pocket, the creature didn't even stir. He fixed it in the same place he had just petted, right above its eyes. A green light flickered on.