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treats.
    “Gristermeyer?” asked Ella.
    Bella’s eyes grew big. “Three hotels. Three!”
    “Joshnaught?”
    The brother’s thumb came out of his mouth with a pop. “A fire station with a bell. Brrrrring, ding, ding, ding, ding.”
    Cantor had not been to any of these places. He didn’t wish to lower his status as a respected traveler, so he didn’t mention his limited experience of these exciting towns.
    To distract his audience, he nodded toward the farmhouse. “It’s time to introduce me to your parents. It is unseemly for us to chat away when I’m a stranger.”
    All three children laughed.
    Ella snorted and managed to blurt out, “You’re only a little bit strange.”
    The children raced down the dirt lane leading to the grove of trees. Cantor followed with Bridger breathing down his neck.
    “Back off, dragon.”
    Bridger paused a moment, allowing a gap to form so his nose no longer bumped Cantor between the shoulder blades.
    “Good. Thanks.”
    They walked in silence. Far ahead, the children clambered up the steps of their front porch and disappeared into the house.
    Cantor kept walking but threw a question over his shoulder. “What do you have in the saddle bags?”
    The air behind him became suddenly still and heated. He heard and felt a swoosh. Cantor turned to face Bridger. In his arms, the dragon held a rather large cat of an unusual coloring. While the cat was mostly black, with white front paws and a small, neat white bib, tawny gold tipped its perky ears and distinguished tail. Green eyes glittered through shuttered eyes on a black face.
    Bridger stroked the half-asleep feline. “This is my cat. Her name’s Jesha.”
    Cantor looked over his shoulder, but the house was obscured from view by a small shed and tall bushes. He whispered, “You own a cat?”
    Bridger ducked his head closer to Cantor’s. “I don’t know that anyone actually owns a cat. The relationship is more like that of a realm walker and a dragon. Comrades, partners, colleagues, or maybe collaborators, but one does not own the other.”
    Still in hushed tones, Cantor scoffed. “So you have vast familiarity with the liaison between dragon and realm walker, do you?”
    “No, but a lot of experience with Jesha. We’ve been together for four years now.”
    The cat, with eyes closed, lifted her chin, and Bridgerobligingly stroked along her jaw and down her neck. A purr rumbled in her chest.
    Cantor grimaced in disgust. “Who ever heard of a realm walker who has a dragon who has a cat? The image is ridiculous.”
    “In the Tales of Bermagot , Bermagot has a dragon who has an owl.”
    Cantor shook his head. “No! Bermagot had a dragon and an owl. Bermagot had the owl.”
    With a smile and a wagging finger, the dragon continued his argument. “Supposition. Anyone knows that a constant is enough companionship for a realm walker. Bermagot had a perfectly good constant so he had no need for an additional friend. The owl was attached to the dragon, not the realm walker.”
    Impatience raised the pitch of Cantor’s tone. “Fine! The owl was not a constant. He was just there. Maybe a traveling companion.”
    Bridger huffed. A small stream of fire escaped his nostrils. Cantor jumped away before the flame singed his jacket.
    Bridger twisted his lips in a moue of disgust before speaking. “Have you not read the Tales of Bermagot ? I thought every schoolboy knew the exploits of the great realm walker.”
    Cantor looked out over the pasture. The small windbreak of trees would no longer shield their approach. He wished to get rid of Bridger before anyone saw him in his dragon form. “Of course I’ve read the Tales . I know what he did. He rescued damsels in distress, saved countries being overwhelmed by despots, and built bridges and dams and tunnels for the benefit of the people.”
    “And the Dragon Allmendor and Owl Espin helped. The owl was a constant just as much as the dragon.”
    Cantor refused to turn and look the dragon in