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“Is that the Dragon King?” I hear their soft murmurs.

“Oh no he is going to eat the boy!” I hear another say, making me laugh as I slip my pants on that Peter is clutching so tightly in his frozen hand.

“Come on, let’s go see your family,” I tell him, and he nods.

“Just a bit of warning my grandma can be a little rude, she is not too fond of Dragons,” he admits.

“I am sure I can handle the old bat,” I tell him, and he laughs leading the way to his house. The house is weathered and the tiles on the roof have been broken. The porch steps creak under my feet as we step on it.

Peter lets himself in, and I see a woman rush down the hall to see who it is. She has dark hair, unlike Peter’s, so I guess he gets the blonde curls from his father. He had her blue eyes though. She stops, freezing completely on the spot when I walk in behind him. The room behind her is clean, but run down. The doors aren’t sealed properly, letting in a cold draft waft through the place.

“Hi ma,” Peter says, stopping. “This is Silas,” he tells her.

“Hi,” I tell her wondering what her name is and Peter finally realising that speaks.

“Oh yes, Silas this is Wendy, my mother, sorry I am used to calling her mom not her name.”

I chuckle, holding my hand out to her. She hesitantly takes mine, squeezing gently.

“Is something wrong, did we do something?” she asks nervously.

“No, I was just giving him a lift home and to check on your mother,” I tell her.

“A lift?” she says, furrowing her eyebrows.

“We flew here, damn near crapped my pants,” Peter says, grabbing my arm and leading me into a kitchen which is run down and missing half the cupboard doors. His mother follows us frantically over to a woman sitting at the table with white hair. She looks to be in her sixties, her lips pursed as we walk in and her brown eyes watching us.

“Hey grandma, this is Silas,” he tells her, pecking her cheek.

“I know who he is, son, why is he here?”

“Nice to meet you Lucy,” I tell her, and she seems taken aback.

“He brought Peter home,” her daughter tells her.

“Gosh you’re a big brute,” she says, looking up at me. Peter pulls her dress up, revealing her leg.

She smacks his hand. “Don’t be undressing me boy,” she snaps at him, swatting his hands.

“I am just looking, I brought antibiotics,” he tells her.

“I don’t need any of that Witch voodoo, just gotta piss on it. You young ones need to toughen up,” she tells him. Her leg looks like gangrene; he was definitely right about it being infected.

“Not sure which old wives tales you’ve been reading but that definitely needs more than piss,” I tell her, shaking my head at her logic.

“Young ones have no idea what they are talking about,” she mutters again.

“Grandma, he is older than you,” Peter deadpans. She huffs, annoyed though she allows him to clean it.

Wendy rummages around, grabbing the flu medicine and a glass to make juice.

“Those antibiotics won’t work,” I tell them, looking at her leg as Peter tries to clean it. I look away toward her daughter who seems to know that already. She smiles sadly.

“Will she be alright?” Peter says, looking at me. I say nothing. Instead, going over to his mother. I grab a knife from the draw.

“Wait you are not cutting off her leg,” Peter squeaks.

“You come near me with that knife I will shove it up your ass”, His grandma snaps at me.