Chapter 1: Hebi Ouheina

"Get up, lazy bones!"

Groggy, Drache blinked awake to the blurry sight of Hebi standing over him, her usual fiery glare of disdain burning a hole in his eyes. "Ow!" he cried, slamming them shut and turning over in pain.

"The shuttle leaves in a min, Drache," she scolded, paying no mind to his injury. "I told you to get to sleep earlier! Now we're going to be late!"

Whimpering in irritation, he snorted and buried his face deeper in his pillow.

Hebi frowned but wasn't surprised by his behaviour. "Very well," she warned. "Time for the big guns." With a flourish of the wrist, she produced a small container from behind her back and chanted:

1 bucket H₂O

In that instant, Drache bolted out of bed, narrowly missing the oncoming deluge. Again, Hebi wasn't surprised as she turned and glanced out the window. The shuttle was approaching, and he was standing at the stop, fully dressed and packed, his tail bristling in annoyance. "YOU'RE going to be late!"

Rolling her eyes, Hebi returned to the kitchen and picked up her pack, slinging it over her shoulder as she hurried out the door to the awaiting shuttle. "I wish you'd be a little more cooperative," she chided as they took their seats. "Now you're going to come home in thirteen days to sleep in a mouldy bed."

"It's your fault," he protested, crossing his arms as the wings on his headband rustled in a mock imitation of his own twitching ears as the shuttle gained speed. "No one else does that!"

"Drache," she sighed, rubbing her forehead in exasperation, "I've told you how to avoid this a thousand times! I project my attack so you can COUNTER it! In the time you were able to get to the shuttle, you could just as easily have stopped me from pouring in the first place!"

"YOU told me to get up."

"Yes..." she groaned, gritting her teeth. "TECHNICALLY. However, you need to learn some foresight as well. You're going to get sick if you come back and sleep in a bed with all that mould in it! It needs to dry out—"

Before Hebi could finish her sentence, Drache was gone in a flash. The next thing she noticed was a mattress-shaped object hurtling past the shuttle and back, then again and again... A few of the other passengers were starting to take notice as well, wondering what he could be doing.

In no time at all, Drache was back on the shuttle. "My bed is dry," he declared, crossing his arms again.

Hebi sighed again. "Good, but wouldn't you have saved a lot of trouble by not letting it get wet in the first place?"

"I dunno!" he cried, slumping back in his seat. "Anyway, they already have the opening ceremonies set up. Here's the program." He handed her the pamphlet they would be given once they signed in. "Here's your badge, too."

"You can't just cut in line!" she complained, though—she had to admit—she was glad she wouldn't have to wait now.

"What are you going to do?"

Hebi gave him another look of disdain. "I've told you a thousand times before—"

"You told me three hundred and fifty-four times!"

"...it doesn't matter! You should still remember!"

"I figured you'd change your mind."

"Why would I change my mind?"

He stared at her as though she hadn't realized what she was saying. "Because you want to meet other people."

"Yes," she agreed, "that's part of the point of the retreat."

"But if you chaperone ME, you'll have to do everything with ME and you won't do anything new."

"We're going to join the Brigade. Don't you know what exactly the Brigade does?"

Drache droned as though reading from a rather boring teleprompter. "'The Brigade is a multiperson team created for the exclusive purpose of complementing each person's unique abilities with others to form a well-rounded force.' I don't wanna be on a TEAM!"

"I swear, Drache," she scolded again, "it's like pulling teeth getting you to do anything to learn some life skills and maturity! What were YOU going to do on the retreat?"

"Play!"

Hebi thumped her head on the seat in front of her. "You can't play for the rest of your life!"

"Why not!"

"Do you remember this 'money' stuff I keep telling you about? You need it to buy food, clothes, and shelter. You can't get money from just playing."

"Can, too! I've been playing Rock Band!" He held up a flyer for a video game contest. "See? Five hundred moneys for winning!"

"Five hundred is barely a month's rent—"

"I just have to win EVERY CONTEST IN THE WORLD!"

Hebi started to say something, but there weren't any conceivable answers that worked. "When are you going to take what I say seriously?"

"Hebiiiii..." he whined. "I can play for money! I totally can, and you don't wanna let me..."

"Of course I don't. It's not responsible."

"All I need to do is report my winnings under Other Income on the 1040 form, plus the self-employment tax Schedule SE, and I can itemize all my deductions for entry fees and purchasing the game to practice! I have it worked out, Hebi!"

She stared at him for a long time in silence. Was any of that correct? She had to consult her accountant to be sure—"What?"

"You just don't want me to find a way to play my way through life!"

"Of course not. What happens if and when Rock Band fails, and no one holds any more contests for it?"

"Then I'll play another game! I'll play ALL the games!"

"We're in a recession! Video games are a nonessential service where companies that provide food, clothing, and shelter are going bankrupt left and right! You can't count on playing to be able to support you forever. At least if you can hunt and cook, you can survive in the wild."

"Like Bear Grylls?"

"YES, like Bear Grylls," she conceded.

"...okay," he agreed.