Three years before:

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“No more. You’ve had enough,” Asim Kemark ordered in a stern tone.

Of course, the damn creatures ignored him. The mass of small wiggling bodies turned their heads in unison to gaze up at him with dark, soulful eyes filled with a silent plea for more food. The floor of the barn was covered with furry bodies.

If the colorful Maratts weren’t enough to drive him crazy, the Grombots swinging from the makeshift lines and custom playset were doing a pretty good job. He and Mandra Reykill had built dozens of the playsets for the six-legged creatures. At the moment, the Grombots were doing a pretty good job of utilizing them.

No have this problem if you let me eat them, his dragon chortled.

Don’t remind me!

“Stop! Get out of there now!” Asim shouted in dismay as he tried to carefully navigate his way to the Grombot reaching into the feed sack hanging on a peg in the wall. The damn thing was using its four hands to sprinkle food onto the floor while handing from by its feet. The Maratts surrounding him turned as one toward the piles of food the Grombot was scattering. His jaw tightened in aggravation when the Grombot looked at him and grinned before it reached into the sack again and dumped not one or two, but four more scoops onto the floor. If he didn’t stop the damn beast, it would empty the sack and he would end up nursing several sick baby Maratts!

Lifting his foot, he started to take another step when a stray Maratt darted out from under a bale of freshly cut, warm grass. Asim twisted in an effort to avoid crushing the tiny creature and his arms wildly pinwheeled as he tried to keep his balance. He might have succeeded if another Grombot, hanging upside down from one of the beams above his head, hadn’t chosen that exact moment to drop onto his shoulders.

“Ugh!” Asim groaned.

His arms came up to grab the Grombot as he fell. Fortunately, he landed on the warm grass instead of the floor or any critters. If he had landed on the floor, his morning would have ended up going from bad to worse. Some of the little ones were not house-trained yet and the floor was usually a minefield on a good day and a landfill on the bad ones.

Holding the Grombot protectively against his chest, Asim leaned his head back and groaned. Three of the Grombots were now in the upper rafters despite the netting that was fitted across the beams to prevent it. One of the older ones must have figured out how to loosen it.

Asim grimaced when he noticed that one of the three was a juvenile. Lady Ariel would have a fit if she saw them up there, especially the baby. Jabir, on the other hand would probably be sitting up there with them. He had caught the little boy trying to imitate the various creatures on the ranch before. Asim pushed up, still cradling the Grombot against his chest, and gazed down at the mass of Maratts eagerly enjoying their extra breakfast.

“All of you will get sick again and Lady Ariel will be upset,” he informed them. Of course, they didn’t pay him any attention. He was about to get up when the Grombot in his arms turned its head. “Ouch! Dragon’s Balls! That is my chest hair you are chewing on. Oh no! You are definitely not trying that! I am not your Dola! You need to keep your grubby lips off my man nipples.”

The Grombot struggled against his grip, trying to suckle. Asim winced when several of his chest hairs were ripped out. He must remember to wear more than a vest when he fed the animals. Some of them were getting a little too attached – literally! He stood up, placed the Grombot on one of the climbing nets, and rescued the almost empty feedbag. He had no doubt that he was going to have a pile of shit to clean up when he returned this evening. He still needed to take care of the Pactor inherited from Lady Melina. He glanced at his communicator and noticed the time.

“Bloody Sarafin hairballs!” Asim cursed. “I’m late and none of you are helping. Pokey, get in here!”

The morning feeding was going about the same as it did every day – complete chaos. He ignored the sniggering of his dragon and waited for his symbiot to come help him. Ever since his dragon learned that none of the tasty treats running under foot and swinging overhead were on the menu, the damn thing was having way too much fun – at his expense.

It better than hurting and being grumpy like Pokey, his dragon pointed out to him.

“I know,” Asim snapped before he drew in a deep breath and replied again in a calmer tone. I know, my friend. I thank you for your control. It is obvious I have very little left.

True. You also have Grombot escaping, his dragon chuckled.

Asim turned to see the Grombot hatchling slowly crawling toward the opened door of the barn. If Lord Mandra didn’t set up another run to these creatures’ home planet, they would have to build another barn. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to keep the boys and girls apart, they always seemed to get mixed up. It had taken him a month – and almost three dozen new babies – to discover Jabir was sneaking out to play with the creatures after everyone had gone to bed and then returning them to the wrong cages.

“Dragon’s balls! Don’t you care that the Pactor would eat you up if you aren’t careful?” Asim demand in exasperation

He was about to pick up the dark gray creature when his symbiot trotted in, snatched it by the back of its neck, and continued past him. Asim turned and raised an eyebrow at his symbiot. The damn thing had been behaving strangely over the last few months.

“What took you so long? You know they get antsy if they don’t eat on time,” Asim demanded.

His symbiot dropped the Grombot on the bale of warm grass and shook. Its body shimmered for a moment before the glow died. Asim bit back the caustic retort he had been about to direct at the golden creature.

Symbiot like to be called Pokey, his dragon reminded him.

I know, Asim snorted with a shake of his head.

Pokey was the name that Jabir had given Asim’s symbiot because he liked a creature his mother told him about called Pokey the Puppy. Of course, his symbiot wasn’t the only critter with a name on the vast mountain spread that Lord Mandra, Lady Ariel, and little Jabir retreated to whenever they could. Those visits invariably meant more rescued animals added to the menagerie of creatures now under Asim’s care.

“Can you retrieve the three Grombots from the rafters while I take care of the Pactor?” Asim asked.

The symbiot shrugged and began climbing up the thick post. Asim didn’t miss that it moved with about as much speed as the Grombots and with a lot less enthusiasm. Concerned, he touched the thin band of gold on his arm to connect with his symbiot. A curse escaped him when the golden creature sent a warning zap of electricity through it. Asim winced and rubbed his arm. It was obvious Pokey wasn’t in the mood to communicate.

“How can we help you if you won’t let us?” Asim demanded, watching the symbiot climb up onto the rafter.

Asim drew in a swift breath when his symbiot opened to him for a brief moment and showed him the darkness that was dragging it down before it closed their connection again. In that second, it dawned on Asim how much his symbiot and his dragon were hiding from him. While they were all interconnected, the other two had somehow managed to shield his awareness of the slender thread of control they were struggling to preserve.

“What have I done?” Asim groaned, running his hand over the back of his neck in self-disgust. “I think only of my discomfort without consideration of what I’ve been doing to you.”

You protect us – we protect you, his dragon replied in a solemn tone.

Asim stared out the barn door, lost in thought. Beyond the fences that circled the assorted barns was a long meadow. Tall, purple grass swayed back and forth thanks to the breeze flowing down from the mountains that surrounded the valley. At the far end was a large lake fed by the waterfall and streams coming from the ice capped mountains. A thick forest of trees near the west side of the lake sheltered his modest home.

Perhaps it was time to move on to the next life. It was not as if the prince needed his protection any longer. With Lord Raffvin dead, the threat to the Dragon Lords was vastly reduced to a handful of traitors who were being steadily hunted. There were more than enough warriors to carry on the fight. He was just an old, worn out warrior with little left to give to his king and the rapidly growing royal family.

No! We be alright, his dragon snarled. We find true mate now.

The snort from his symbiot told him a different story. He had prolonged the inevitable as long as he possibly could in good conscience. That brief glimpse had shown him that his symbiot was trying to absorb his and his dragon’s despair. The negative emotion was slowly killing the creature that fed on their essences.

“We are killing our symbiot, dragon. He can only live on our negative essences for so long before he dies a slow and torturous death. What honor is there in that? Once he dies, so will we. Why should we be so cruel as to push all the weight of our despair on him in the hopes of finding a true mate who does not exist? We are old. What female in her right mind would want a dragon warrior like us? No, it is time to do the honorable thing and acknowledge our time is at an end before we lose control – which will happen when our symbiot is no longer with us,” he said with a deep sigh.

It not time. We find mate who likes old dragons, his dragon stated stubbornly.

“I need to take care of the Pactor before we can leave,” Asim said, ignoring his dragon.

Asim’s dragon muttered under his breath before pulling away. Asim had to give his dragon credit for not giving up hope. He wished he could believe there was a true mate out there for them as much as his dragon did.

Unfortunately, now that he knew how sick his dragon and he were making his symbiot, he couldn’t deny that they had been deluding themselves and each other. No, tonight he would tell Mandra that it was time for him to move on to the next life. He would order his symbiot to return to the Hive, and he and his dragon would die an honorable death in the ways of the ancient warriors. For now, though, he would enjoy the last of their time here in this world.

“Well, maybe not completely enjoy it,” he muttered, staring at the huge piles of Pactor dung in the corral that would need to be shoveled before he could leave.

This is something I will not miss in my next life, he thought as he reached for the large shovel leaning against the fence.