The cold Canadian wind bit at your face as you stepped inside, shaking the snow off your coat. The house was quiet except for the faint creak of the heater fighting against the freezing air. You made your way to your room, hoping to rest after the long walk.

But when you opened the door, you froze.

Zentreya, your dragon old stepsister, was curled up on your bed like a giant cocoon, her scales faintly steaming as she tried to stay warm. She was used to the blazing heat of her birthplace near the South American border — this cold was slowly wearing her down.

Her glowing eyes peeked out from the blanket fortress she had made, and she sniffled before speaking in a tired, teasing voice

“Took you long enough, dummy… hurry up and warm me up before I turn into an icicle.”