Messummer

“Mom, Mom, you’ll never believe what I found.” I amazed myself by how fast I reached Mom and I’s tower. I dropped Dan into our nest and landed behind it. He was way too small for it.

Mom stood in the corner of the rock cave, with her forehead pressed against the cold wall. “Messummer? You’re back?” she asked.

“Of course, I am,” I said, over-the-top excited, “and I discovered an entirely new species.”

“What are you talking about?” Mom twisted her body so she could face me. Up close, she was much bigger than I.

I held my wings in front of me. My eyes caught Dan trying to climb out of the nest. He got no more than halfway out before he slid back into it.

“Look, Quetzalcoatlus,” he snapped, glaring at me with his big, brown eyes, “I have had a rough day. I was chased by tetrapods in the Carboniferous Period, crawled on top of by an Arthropleura, and then my stupid starship dropped me off in the wrong time period. The least you could do is not kidnap me!”

“What’s all that squeaking?” Mom said. “It sounds like a small creature’s gotten in here.”

“I mean, he is rather small,” I joked, peering down on Dan.

He glared at me and crossed his arms over his chest. He wore some kind of strange, red covering over his upper body that was outlined by yellow and a smaller, navy blue one under it. There were also two, rounded objects embedded in the unusual, brown fur on top of his head. The fur was spiky, and two strands of it crossed in front of his eyes. He was a sight for sore eyes for sure.

At the sight of him, Mom screeched. She leaped back like a frightened chick and pointed one of her legs at Dan. “What is that thing?”

“It’s my new pet,” I giggled.

“It’s hideous! Where did you find it?”

I did not think Dan understood us. He looked beyond bewildered. However, I did think he knew Mom did not like him.

“What, have you guys never seen a seventeen-year-old human before?” he wondered. “How surprising.” I assumed he enjoyed being sarcastic. Did he say “seventeen”? Was that considered “young” where he came from? Without warning, he stretched his arms over his head and yawned. Poor thing. He looked rather tired. He settled down in Mom and I’s nest, pulled some branches and leaves close to him, and closed his eyes.

“Oh, Mom, can we keep him, at least for tonight?” I asked Mom. “I’ll walk him in the morning. I’ll feed him. Heck, I’ll even let him fly in the Great Flying Race with me. Besides, I think he’s injured his leg.”

“How do you know he’s not one of those sharp-toothed beasts in disguise?” Mom snapped. She tapped her toes.

“He’s not. Oh, please, Mom. Please.” I fell to my claws and knees in front of her and tugged at her leg. “Let me keep him.”

“Okay, fine!” Mom pushed me off. “He can stay, but only for tonight.”

“Whoopee!” Those were the best words Mom ever told me. I danced back and forth, but then I noticed Dan shuffled in his sleep, so I stopped. “Oh, right. Shh.” I brought my claw to my beak.

Mom shook her head. “What am I going to do with you, Messummer?”

“Well, you can make your decision after the Great Flying Race,” I blurted. I tell you, Moms and daughters did not mix well. I’d rather stay in the nest with my new pet and teach him the wonders of my world. That was when it crossed my mind. Why shouldn’t I do that? A pit in my tummy told me Dan enjoyed my kind. It was settled, then! We would get up early in the morning, and I would give him the grand tour... with the race.

I hopped into the nest and walked in a few circles. I had to be careful not to accidentally kick dirt in Dan’s peaceful face. The sun’s orange rays tickled my fur. I puffed the light out of it, growing two times my size. With a short yawn, I plopped down next to Dan and set my chin on the edge of the nest.

Mom grumbled to herself. She marched to the corner of the cave and lay down there, instead. “Why do I always let my daughter bring weird pets into the house?” I heard her ask.

The tickle in my throat returned. I did not know if the sunshine caused it or the humor. Perhaps it was a combination of both? The sun lulled me to sleep–the wonderful, dusty glow that tasted like the blood of a fresh, sharp-toothed baby. At that point, I let my meal slide. Meeting Dan was so much more interesting.