Cameron To Candy

The morning passed quickly. Marcus made a simple breakfast of eggs, bacon, and of course, ministry-approved porridge. He had her attempt to cook an egg, just one, which came out only slightly burned. This was generally considered an improvement. Twenty minutes later he had Hearthwind hooked up to the old box carriage and they were on their way. At one point Marcus’s hand accidentally touched hers and she recoiled like a snake.

“What's up your butt this morning?” He asked, unusually testy.

“Nothing! Nothing, I… just was spacing off is all. You startled me. And don’t ever say that phrase again!” she yelled as her memory flashed back to the dream, her bent over the bed and his dick pressing into her ass.

Marcus dropped her off at the zoo fifteen minutes later, with the promise of meeting her afterwards at the Mage Guild office. The zoo's entrance rose ahead of Candy in carved gray stone, decorated with animal reliefs that were a little friendlier than most Paddlewick public buildings. Two stone tethergoats flanked the arch, both posed with stiff little chins and noble expressions. Above them, a bronze plaque read: PADDLEWICK PRIME MUNICIPAL ZOO AND NATIONAL MENAGERIE. Beneath it, in smaller letters, another plaque declared: ENTRY FREE BY ROYAL ORDER. DONATIONS, TOURS, FEEDING TICKETS, MERCHANDISE, EDUCATIONAL LECTURES, COMMEMORATIVE PINS, AND LICENSED SNACKS AVAILABLE WITHIN.

Candy stopped beneath the sign and read the second plaque twice. It was amusing in an annoying way that a place that declared itself free immediately listed seven ways to take your money. Still, copperfists like Marcus loved to point out if you took your own transport and packed a lunch ahead of time, and maybe just listened near groups getting paid tours, you could get in and out without spending any coin.

She shifted the larger satchel on her shoulder, felt the careful weight of the coBra eggs inside, and reminded herself that she was not here to run around like an overexcited child. At lest not until after the meeting.

She was here for business (deeply motivated by personal reasons). She had six magical snake eggs packed in straw, two preserved snake heads in the smaller satchel, Marcus’s written permission folded safely inside her dress (though it annoyed her to no end that she was required to have it) and a meeting scheduled with a man from Animal Acquisition and Magical Containment.

Then a child somewhere beyond the gate shouted, “Niblet got out again! He’s gone!”

Candy’s head turned so fast she nearly pulled the satchel strap off her shoulder. A keeper’s voice answered from deeper inside the zoo. “Don’t worry, kids. Niblet hasn’t left the zoo. He’s temporarily unaccounted for inside the permitted search zone. Can you find him?”

Several children cheered and yelled various positive responses. Candy bit back a smile and forced herself toward the entrance counter. She had worn her “I Found Niblet” pin on her sash for the visit. She rarely displayed pins unless there was some official requirement, but the Niblet pin was different. That one had been earned at the zoo, and she was not going to come back here without wearing it. It was a matter of respect, possibly for herself, possibly for the tiny dragon who could not be contained.

The entrance counter sat beneath a covered stone awning. A young man in a green municipal waistcoat looked up as she approached. His hair was neatly parted, his smile was trained into place, and the crossword puzzle he was working on was half finished.

“Good morning, miss,” he said. “If you’re entering the zoo today, I’ll need to stamp your hand as part of our visitor tracking system.”

Candy offered her hand. “Sure, but I’m here for a ten o’clock appointment with the Director of Animal Acquisition and Magical Containment.”

The clerk pressed the stamp to the back of her hand, leaving a neat blue turtle mark just below her wrist. He then turned his ledger around and ran one finger down the appointments column. “Name?”

“Candy Elwood.”

“Hmm. Oh yeah, here you are. Mrs. Candy Elwood. Ten o’clock with Dr. Aldric Beastmere.”

Candy looked at the name before she could stop herself. Beastmere? That was a little on the nose. It sounded like Paddlewick had tried to make a zoo pun, turned it into a surname, and then hoped the man’s children and grandchildren would keep the joke going by also working with animals.

“You’re a bit early,” the clerk said.

“Yeah it’s generally a good idea.”

“That’s true,” he agreed as he glanced at her pin and brightened a little. “An I Found Niblet pin?”

Candy looked down at her sash, then back at him with a grin. “Oh yeah.”

“He’s loose again today,” the clerk said.

“I heard.”

“The Current reward is one choice from the green prize shelf, one free tea drop biscuit, or a finder’s ribbon. Children are already debating whether a ribbon is better than a biscuit.”

Candy’s eyes narrowed with interest before she could stop herself. “Isn’t there a pin or badge?”

“Not today. They only issue pins for spontaneous public recoveries, not supervised search events. This one’s just for the little kids.” He stopped and looked around, then in a quieter voice added, “We dropped him by the petting zoo and released a bunch of chocolate crickets. They’ll probably find him near there.”

“That’s… wholesome. Not a bad idea.”

The clerk smiled, then tapped a small crystal bell. “Thanks. I’ll call a docent to escort you back.”

A woman in a docent’s sash stepped through the side doorway almost immediately. She was compact, tidy, and carried herself with the calm alertness of someone who had spent years telling children not to poke anything that hissed.

“Mrs. Elwood?” she asked.

Candy lifted her stamped hand. “That’s me.”

“I’m Docent Merril. I’ll take you to the acquisition offices. Please keep both satchels closed unless someone from quarantine or higher inspects them

Candy nodded once. “Okay.”

Merril led her through a side gate rather than the main entrance path. Candy tried to walk at a normal adult pace, but that became harder the moment the zoo opened around them. Stone walkways curved between fenced exhibits and trimmed animal topiaries. Painted signs pointed toward the Reptile Hall, the Stonehorn Garden, the Pinnery Porcupines, and the Scalewing Pseudodragon House. A vendor sold hot tea in cups shaped like turtle shells. Another had bird-shaped biscuits arranged in careful rows, each posed in a formal bow.

Candy slowed without meaning to. The last time she had come here, she had run from exhibit to exhibit until Alyssa and Vivian had looked at her like Marcus should have sent a physician instead of birthday money. She had not been dignified. She had not even tried very hard. The zoo had done something to her mood that she still had trouble explaining without sounding ridiculous.

Today, she was here for an official appointment. She was carrying dangerous materials. She had responsibilities. She also really wanted to know if Niblet had gotten into the gift shop again. She would kill to have a story where he was found hiding between little dragon stuffies!

Merril noticed the way Candy kept looking around. “You’ve visited before?”

“Yeah,” Candy said, a little too quickly. “Recently.”

“Oh I thought I saw a Niblet pin on your sash.”

Candy touched the Found Niblet pin without thinking. “It was a great day.”

A burst of children’s voices came from the path ahead. A boy shouted, “If I find him, I’m getting the shirt!” A girl answered, “I want the ribbon. My older sister said ribbons count more if you don’t spill anything while earning them.”

A keeper hurried past them with a covered bowl in one hand and a padded catching mitt in the other. “No one grabs Niblet,” he called as he passed. “If you see him, point and call a keeper. If you grab him, he gets the prize.”

Candy watched him go. “Does that happen?”

Merril kept walking. “He won a biscuit once.”

“Good for him.”

“It encouraged him for weeks.”

Candy had to press her lips together to keep from laughing. She was not here to enjoy herself, which was becoming less convincing every minute.

They passed the edge of the Stonehorn Garden next. The enclosure opened into a low, rocky yard with moss-covered slabs, shallow water dishes, and three enormous turtles moving at speeds that made snails look energetic. Their shells looked like pieces of old stone walls. Small vines clung to the ridges, and one turtle stood near the fence with its head raised toward the morning sun.

Candy stopped short. “Sir Resolute.”

Merril turned back. “Yes, isn’t he grand? He’s the oldest citizen of the kingdom.”

Candy stared at the turtle. Sir Resolute’s muddy silver eyes were half-lidded, and his mouth curved just enough that Candy felt vindicated all over again.

“He smiled at me last time,” she said. “I knew he did.”

Merril’s face stayed professional, but her eyes amused themselves. “We’re not allowed to officially confirm turtle smiles.”

“That means he did,” Candi laughed.

Sir Resolute took one slow step. Candy’s hands tightened on the satchel strap, and for one dangerous second she almost forgot the appointment entirely.

Merril cleared her throat gently. “Dr. Beastmere does try to stay on schedule.”

“Right,” Candy said, forcing herself to move. “Official business. Snake eggs. … I just, hehe, he smiled again!”

“Yes… what enthusiasm,” Meril said with a completely straight face and very flat voice. Candy decided she liked Merril.

They moved behind the public path and onto a staff walkway along the outer wall. The air changed as they left the busiest part of the zoo. It smelled of straw, seed, cold stone, and warm animal feed. Somewhere nearby, birds rustled in large numbers, and a keeper called out in the patient voice of a man who had repeated the same instruction all morning.

“The offices are behind the Crane Pavilion,” Merril said. “Dr. Beastmere is finishing a quarantine matter, so you may need to wait a few minutes.”

“I’ve been made to wait in worse places.”

“That’s good, because the waiting room has four chairs and a lot of pamphlets.”

“Oh?” Candy responded dispondently.

“Oh, and a window.”

“Oh?” Candy perked back up.

They passed behind a long pavilion with arched windows and painted panels showing elegant birds arranged in formal poses. Candy recognized the Curtsey Crane display immediately, and her whole mood lifted despite her best effort to keep it under control.

The cranes were pale, long-legged, and far too elegant for animals that probably stepped in mud every day. Their natural resting stance looked like a formal curtsey, with the head lowered, one leg bent inward, and the tail feathers spreading out in a rounded fan. Generations of careful breeding had made the plumage fuller, cleaner, and more dramatic, so that when the birds settled, they looked like they were wearing little feathered hoop skirts.

Candy slowed again. This time she did not even pretend she had meant to. Through one of the windows, a crane lowered its neck, bent its leg, and spread its tail feathers in a smooth white fan. Another followed, then a third, as if the first had reminded the others that guests might be watching. Candy’s mouth opened slightly. She caught herself and closed it.

Merril looked over. “They’re one of our most popular exhibits.”

“And I think they know it!”

“They might,” Merril joked back. “Handlers had an easy time training them. The movement came naturally, so they mostly had to pair it with signals and rewards.”

“Interesting,”

One of the cranes lifted its head and looked toward the staff path. Candy raised her free hand in a tiny wave before she could stop herself. The crane dipped again. Candy smiled at once, then tried to turn the smile into something smaller and more appropriate for a woman carrying preserved snake heads. It didn’t work so well.

Merril’s expression softened. “The waiting room overlooks their exercise yard from the second floor. If there’s a delay, you’ll have a good view.”

Candy turned to her. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Candy cleared her throat and adjusted her satchel. “That’s acceptable.”

“Very restrained, Mrs. Elwood.”

“I’m a model of composure.”

“I can tell.” Candy gave her a look, more amused than bitting.

They continued through a staff door and into a corridor running behind the pavilion. Halfway down, an open side room revealed the feeding preparation area. It was not fancy, and Candy liked that too. Seed sacks lined one wall. Labeled bins sat under a counter. Ceramic dishes were stacked beside chopped greens, mineral dust, and several trays of live crickets being sorted by a keeper with the tired focus of a man doing a job children would call magical but he found mildly unpleasant. Another keeper spooned something amber-colored into shallow cups.

Candy paused near the doorway. “Are those tea drops?”

“For the Scalewings,” Merril said. “If they complete enrichment without biting anyone… or anything important.”

“And if Niblet escaped?”

“If he returns before lunch, he gets two.”

“If he returns after lunch?”

“He whines and acts pitiful until someone gives him one anyway. But we make him do a trick for it.”

Candy nodded. “Smart.”

They left the corridor, climbed a narrow stairwell, and entered a second-story administrative passage with green-painted trim and framed illustrations of animals that had clearly been drawn by someone who cared more about accuracy than charm. At the end of the hall, brass lettering on a door read: DEPARTMENT OF ANIMAL ACQUISITION AND MAGICAL CONTAINMENT. Beneath it, a smaller sign read: DONATIONS, TRANSFERS, INTAKE, HATCHLINGS, SHEDDINGS, AND OTHER BIOLOGICAL MATTERS BY APPOINTMENT ONLY.

Candy looked down at her satchels.

The waiting room was warmer than the hallway and better than Candy expected. Four chairs sat against one wall, but they were padded and clean. A low table held pamphlets with titles like So You Found an Egg, Is It Venomous or Merely colorful?, Municipal Donation Procedures for Citizens of Good Standing, Municipal Donation Procedures for Citizens of Bad Standing, and Handling Shed Skins Without Startling Others. On the far side of the room, a wide window overlooked the Curtsey Crane exercise yard below.

That made up for the pamphlets immediately.

Merril crossed to the inner office door and tugged a short bell pull. A muted chime sounded beyond the wall, followed by faint voices. She listened for a moment, then turned back to Candy.

“I’m sorry for the wait. Dr. Beastmere is still finishing his previous matter, but he should be out shortly.”

Candy set the satchels carefully beside the chair nearest the window. “It’s all right. I’ve had much worse places to wait, and this one has a good view.”

Merril glanced toward the window. Below, one of the cranes strutted across the yard, stopped as if it had remembered it was beautiful, and settled into a perfect curtsey.

“That’s Henrietta Plume,” Merril said. “She poses when she thinks someone important is watching.”

Candy looked down at the bird. “Then she’s got good instincts.”

“I’ll let Dr. Beastmere know you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

Merril left, closing the door quietly behind her. Candy sat in the chair nearest the window and let herself lean forward like a child, just a little. From this height, she could see the whole crane yard. There were ribbon markers near the feeding posts, shallow dishes set out in a row, and a low platform where one crane stood like it was waiting for applause. It might have been for all she knew. The birds moved carefully, their feathers lifting and settling with each step.

Candy looked at the turtle stamp on her hand, then at the Niblet pin on her sash, then down at the satchels by her feet. Outside, children were still hunting for Niblet. Below her, the bird named Henrietta Plume was doing a little performance.

Another crane moved into the yard from the covered side pen. It bent its leg, lowered its neck, and opened its tail feathers into a soft white fan. The shape pulled at something in Candy’s mind, something older than her life as a woman and softer than the mood she had carried in with her.

For a moment, she was thinking of Plumaloom. She was thinking of the aviary there, and of being small beside her grandmother, back when she was Cameron, while birds shifted and called above them. The memory rose quickly, She was Cameron again, eight years old, walking carefully along one of Plumaloom’s cliff paths with his grandmother.

The walkways clung to the stone face in places, carved directly into the cliff where they could be and supported by old timber scaffolding where they couldn’t. Above them, birds wheeled through the crisp air in every direction. The Cliffs of Plumaloom wasn't really an aviary. Sure there were bird nets, cages, and so on, but the small amount of birds kept in captivity were just the opening attraction. It was the wild birds that people really came for. There were over a hundred species known to live there. More during migration months. It was more like a nature preserve in that sense.

And his Grandma never rushed. She’d stand with her little brass spyglass, spotting card, and distant rock faces for several minutes before moving another ten steps.

“See those?” she’d ask. “Black-beaked Skydarters. They stop here on the way out to the ocean near Floatsome.” Then she’d walk a little farther. “Storm Terns. They only nest on the north face.” Another pause. “Oh… look at those two. A courting pair.”

To Cameron, they were mostly just, well, birds. Interesting, pretty birds, sure, but still just birds. He was in awe oh how Grandma somehow knew all their names, which were courting, what their songs sounded like, and most amazingly, when it was time to move because they were about to poop above them. He never did figure out how she did that last one.

But during one particularly special visit, she suddenly grabbed his sleeve.

“Oh!” Her voice dropped to an excited whisper. “Cameron, don’t move!.”

He froze. “What is it Mimi?”

“There,” she slowly angled the little spyglass into his hands. “Third ledge down. Just left of the crooked cedar.”

He found the cedar, then the ledge, then…

“I see it!”

A tiny bird no bigger than his hand sat tucked against the stone, its deep blue breast flashing whenever it turned toward the sun. Grandma practically bounced. She was very spry for her age.

“The Bluecrest Ribbontail.”

“We found one? The bluebreast Ribtail!”

She laughed. “Yes dear, we found one. A BLUECREST Ribbontail. Oh, I’ve hoped we’d see one for years!”

They stood there for several minutes, saying almost nothing as the little bird preened itself before lifting effortlessly into the breeze and disappearing over the cliffs. Slowly, a hushed crowd grew around them as people heard, all raising their glasses or straining their eyes to see.

She had smiled all the way back down the trail. “Well,” she said, squeezing Cameron’s shoulder, “maybe next visit we’ll spot a Gold Dawncrest Skysinger.”

“Is that one even harder to find?”

“Oh yes.” She looked back toward the endless maze of cliffs where birds circled in the afternoon light. “That’s the fun thing about birdwatching.”

“What is Mimi?”

“There’s always another bird to look forward to seeing.”

***

That felt like ages ago. Candy missed her grandma. She missed having any family at all. And there was something in her memories, just under the surface; she felt it was important, but she couldn't quite...

She was still looking out the window when the inner office door opened. A man in his late fifties stepped into the waiting room, carrying a folder under one arm. He had thinning gray-brown hair, a tidy beard, and half-moon spectacles resting low on his nose. His coat was practical rather than decorative, with reinforced cuffs and the zoo crest stitched neatly on the lapel.

“Mrs. Elwood?” he asked.

Candy stood and reached for the larger satchel. “Yes, that’s me.”

The man smiled politely. “Dr. Aldric Beastmere. Sorry for the wait.”