Somewhere in Barcelona...

A battered looking blue Nissan Navara drove into a parking lot, its wheels crunching on the gravel pavement. The shade from the trees scattering the light of the afternoon sun, falling on the craggy features of its driver, a giant shelled reptile. He was not happy.

He was not at all happy to be missing practice, or wasting time having to go pick up the obnoxious furball from school. The child’s father was swamped in whatever the hell it was he did for a living, and his mother was busy at work. Not busy enough, of course, to not have given him a phone call, making it amply clear the matter was settled. There was no weaseling out of it.

But the girl wasn't in the parking lot as she had been told.

Joder, dónde está esa mocosa? (Damn it where is that brat?), he thought.

He pressed his huge palm against the the horn, blaring it a few times while he fiddled around with the old radio set for a song to listen to. He also tried swatting away at the pale, golden hairs clinging to the seats with no luck. Damn fur. Never had to deal with this before. After a few minutes had past, finally, he caught sight of her rounding the corner of the building. He honked the horn again, unlocking the side door and impatiently gesturing for the pup to hurry.

Abigail had to tug hard on the handle of the Nissan before the heavy door finally swung open. Hoisting herself inside, the two could not have been more the opposite of the other. Where the golden retriever looked tiny in the huge seat, Baltasar was the opposite, his was set back almost as far as it would go to make space for his huge shell.

“Close the door, seat belts on” said the large reptile dryly. Abigail did as she was told without a word. That was odd, usually she’d be yapping, laughing, and bouncing around everywhere right about now, her tail flailing about and covering the seats in even more blasted fur.

It was that very silence that made the large reptile take a closer look at the small canine. Her pink frilly dress was coated in dust and her fur was all messy.

“So, what happened to you?” asked Baltasar, starting the engine and backing out of the parking lot.

“There were some bigger kids after school. They said I looked like a clown and started laughing at me. One of them called me something in Spanish,” Abigail paused and then whispered “I think it was a bad word.”

“Well, what was it?”

“I don’t think I'm supposed to say-”

“Okay, okay, whatever. So, they called you names?” Baltasar wasn’t really looking at her, keeping his eyes on the road instead.

Abigail gave a small nod. “And then one of them snuck up on me and pushed me. He pulled at my hair and… and he took… he took...” Baltasar heard her sniffle, glanced at her and saw large, wet tears welling up in her large eyes.

“Ah geez uh… come on kid don’t cry, just… shut up will you!?” The tortoise clenched his beak, hands gripping the steering wheel, trying to focus on driving. But Abigail's crying became louder and louder.

“Look I’ll buy you a kiddie meal at a restaurant, yes?” he offered weakly, starting to look at signs along the road, looking for some restaurant chain or toy shop or… anything. It made no difference. Abigail’s head shook in the negative, pulling her knees up to her chin as she continued sniffling.

Just as he was about to give up hope, a large advert for a new bookstore zoomed past, giving the young tortoise one last, desperate idea. “Look if you quiet down I’ll tell you a story ok?” Baltasar said.

Instant silence.

“You... will?” she said, eyes still puffy and watery, looking up at the tortoise.

“Yeah.... Look if you stay quiet and... just let me drop you off home and I'll buy you a book later. Okay?”

“No! You said you would tell me a story… would you?”

“No voy a- gah! Fine whatever! Yes, okay?” Baltasar said, craning his neck and blinking at the afternoon glare on his eyes, returning his attention to the road.

“What kind of story?”

“Whatever! Look I have to drive now. You choose”

“Promise?” she said, drying her eyes with her dusty dress sleeve.

“Yeah yeah, promise. Now be quiet… please” he said, letting out a deep breath.

True to her word, other than the occasional sniffle, Abigail was quiet the whole ride back.

---

Later that day...

Barring the little episode in the car it had been a very uneventful slog of a day for the tortoise, who was now zoning out, changing channels on the TV, not really watching anything. His mother and Roderick had already arrived and were upstairs in their own room. Mercifully, they had put the kid to bed before they went off to sleep themselves.

“Pssst!”

No, he wasn't hearing it. He stubbornly kept watching the television, all of a sudden fascinated by the deluxe wood chipper some badger with a blatantly fake wig was selling at a supposedly bargain price.

“Psst! Bawtazar!!!”

Why him? why?

“Psst.”

“WHAT!?” he snapped. Head craning around on his neck to see Abigail, dressed in her pajamas, peering at him from the railings on the upper flight.

The pup flinched for a moment at the tone, glancing behind her to make sure the adults had not heard, before turning back to the reptile glaring at her from downstairs. “You promised!”

“Promised what?” said Baltasar, trying hard to keep his voice down.

“You said you would read me a story! You promised! Remember?”

Baltasar did, in fact, remember. Much to his annoyance, so did the pup.

Her silhouette glowed in the electric light from the screen. A tiny little frown drawn on her face. For a moment he half considered ignoring her until she went away.

“You promi-”

“Si, si ya voy” he said, getting up from the groaning sofa. He might as well get it over with, else she tell Roderick about it; or worse, his mother. He stretched lazily, pressing his palms against the ceiling and then lumbered up the stairs. Abigail’s face lit up and she scampered off quietly to her room.

Baltasar peeked into what was once the guest room, now a furious shade of pink. A tiny puppy sized lump under the covers showing where Abbigail was “hiding”. Baltasar rolled his eyes and walked over to the bookshelf. It was empty, of course. All of the books were strewn around the floor. Sighing, he bent over and picked one at random and then sat on the bed, making the springs creak loudly as Abbigail popped from the top, pink tongue out and tail thumping happily under the covers.

Baltasar took a deep breath and resolved to finish this as quickly as possible. “So… there was once an ugly little duckling wh-”

“No not that story!”

“Joder, cual es la puta diferencia?” What’s the fucking difference?

“Thats the word the kid used! You shouldn't say that!!”

“Fine! Whatever. What’s wrong with this stupid book?”

“You said -I- could choose!”

“Ok, ok” Baltasar was rubbing his temples, taking deep steadying breaths “Just tell me which one you want”

Abigail’s tiny paw rested on her chin, her tail slowing down, face scrunched up in deep thought. “Sleeping beauty!” she said finally, smiling.

“Well, which one is it?” asked Baltasar gesturing to the mess of books on the floor.

“I...um… don't know” admitted the pup sheepishly.

“Joder” swore Baltasar under his breath as he slid off the bed, piling up all the books in the room into his scaly arms, glancing quickly at the cover of each before shoving it into the empty bookshelf. The last was an old hardcover collection of childrens fairy tales. It looked quite of out place amidst the sea of brightly colored, thick cardboard page books about dolls and cartoon movie characters. A squee from the bed, notifying him it was the one.

“Figures it would be the last one I check” Baltasar grumbled, dropping onto the bed, making abigail bounce a bit on her end.

“Ok here goes” Baltasar took a deep breath. “There once was a king and qu-”

“No, no! You gotta start it right!”

“Thats how its written in the stupid book!! How else am I supposed to read this!!?” He said, snapping the book shut and dropped it atop the bed “I am sick of your- oh no...”

Baltasar heard a sniffle. and turned to look at Abbigail. She looked up at him, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. Her ears drooped.

The tortoise flinched, ready for the piercing wail that would summon his parents and all hell into the room…

“Once upon a time, a long time ago, in a kingdom far far away, its name long since forgotten.”

“Huh?” Baltasar opened an eye. Abbigail had reached for the book and had it propped open in her hands.

“That’s… that’s how you start a story” she said repressing another sniffle, her voice soft, she wasn’t looking at Baltasar.

“I dont under-”

“That’s how mommy always started a story” she said. Her eyes were still wet but no new tears welled in them. She would read me one every night. Daddy tries but he’s busy and Camila…”

There was a moment of silence. Abigail sat with the open book in her hands, looking utterly crestfallen.

Baltasar recalled how she had instantly cheered up when he had offered to read to her. The rest of that day, her tail had been wagging nonstop. Usually Abigail would avoid him in the house but she had gone and looked for him. She had been so excited for this. Did it really mean that much to her? Having a story read to her? She said it had been the way her mother always used to, before… before all this happened.

This…

Baltasar looked around at what had once been his room. This wasn't his old room anymore, but he realized, neither was it Abigail’s. She had left her old room when she came to live here.

Baltasar regarded the furry thing in the bed. How small she was, how young. How much did kids her age even remember when they grew up? He pondered what must it feel like for her, to be in the middle of this.

Looking at the dull colored cover of the book, Baltasar remembered something from many years back “My father used to read me stories too, you know” he said quietly.

“Did he start them with ‘Once upon a time’ too?”

“No, he would open them quoting a twist on the first lines from Don Quixote”

“Donkey… who?”

“Er… never mind” said Baltasar, a crack of a smile forming on the corners of his mouth. “Maybe I'll tell you one of the stories he told me one day, but for now at least…”
The tortoise reached for the book Abby was holding. It went from looking oversized in the tiny pup’s paws to comically tiny in the tortoise’s rough palms.

“Look Abigail, let’s try this again, but no more interruptions. Entendido?

The golden retriever noded, and crawled back under her bedcovers.

Baltasar took a breath “Once upon a time, a long time ago, in a kingdom far far away…” he paused to look at Abigail, her amber eyes and golden fur shone softly in the lamplight. She was very still and listening closely. “...its name long since forgotten, there lived a King and Queen who longed for a child of their own…”

Baltasar read slowly, letting Abigail see each illustrated page before he turned to another. The pup would at times add a correction or two, or ask Baltasar to read it in a different intonation. The tortoise found he didn't mind as much as he did before and nodded as he read on.

“...and they lived happily ever after”

But Abigail couldn't hear him anymore. Sleep had finally gotten the best of her, and the pup was curled up against her pillow, eyes shut tight. Baltasar looked at her for a moment. Such a small and tiny thing. [i]She’s almost cute when she isn't bouncing off the walls and yapping all the time.[/i] Getting up, he cringed at how loudly the bed protested. He glanced at Abbigail but she remained fast asleep. With a breath of relief, he flicked off the lights and closed the door.

---

Some time later...

A battered looking blue Nissan Navara drove into a parking lot, its wheels crunching on the gravel pavement. The shade from the trees scattering the light of the afternoon sun, falling on the craggy features of its driver, a giant shelled reptile, as he hummed a tune on the radio.

A glance at the dashboard clock made his brow furrow. Where could she be this time? He had told her to wait for him here.

He got out of the car and walked the distance towards the school courtyard, gravel crunching under his soles.

He heard it before he saw it.

The sound of several children jeering and yelling, mean, cruel little laughs and a more familiar one angrily crying out; “Give it back!”

Baltasar charged through the bushes, bellowing straight at the gathered circle, eyes contracted into slits and fists clenched and raised. The children all but evaporated amidst cries of terror, yelping and whining.

The one remaining on the dirt floor was Abigail, holding her knee and sniffling. As he approached her, still huffing, Baltasar bent down to pick up something from the ground.

“Hey Abigail, this yours?” he said, walking over and opening his huge palm, revealing a tiny, albeit somewhat battered looking, pink bow.

“You got it back!” she barked happily, amber eyes still wet from tears but tail wagging fiercely, as she put her tiny paw in Baltasar’s massive hand and was gently helped to her feet. She dusted off her dress and carefully affixed the bow to her head. She looked up at Baltasar, hesitating for a moment before hugging him tightly, barely reaching above his knees. “Thank you”

Baltasar raised his arms awkwardly, before lowering them and giving the pup a pat on the head “Uh… so, um what’s with that bow anyway?”

“You like it!? Mommy gave it to me!” she said, letting go of the tortoise

Baltasar nodded before adding “Come on Abby, I’ve got practice today, so I need to drop you off at home”

“Abby?”

“Well… it’s easier to say than Abbigail, no?”

Seemingly accepting this logic, Abigail went to follow the tortoise before she winced and grabbed at her knee again.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“A little”

What Baltasar said next surprised both of them.

“How about a piggyback ride back to the car? Would that make you feel better?”

Abigail's eyes went wide, tail poised to give an almighty wag when it stopped midway, and her little paw rested on her chin, her face pensive.

“Wait… wouldn't that be a turtleback ride then?”

“I AM NOT A-” Baltasar sighed and rubbed at his temples, eyes closed “Look kid you want the ride or not?”

Abigail smiled and raised her arms, tail wagging as baltasar picked her up. He marveled at how light she was, fitting in the nook between his shell and neck.

“Wow! I’m taller than you now Teebawt!” she said, tail wagging furiously, one hand hanging on to the tortoise, the other over her eyes as she surveyed the area.

“Tee what now?”

“Well it’s easier to say than Bawtazar, right?”

Baltasar found himself chuckling as he headed towards the car, Abigail on his back.

“T-Balt…” he mumbled, the english sounding name felt strange to him, but he had to admit the word had a certain ring to it, as did another floating in his head. After all T-Balt had never had a “sister” before.

FIN