The Legacy of Dirty Birds

The Sky and Stars are Real

They lived, quite literally, in a tree.

At the base of a dead sequoia tree, just high enough off the ground that nobody bothered them (except squirrels) was where the main room was, the one where Calum slept. There were two others, one was extra storage for the food they had, and the last was just Holly's. There was no easy was in or out, except for flying. Calum learned this because inevitably, he had to pee and then received the dirtiest look from Deadwing before being carried down to do his business. He was sure Dee would have left him down there if it hadn't been for Holly.

"I guess we should make a ladder," she observed, as Dee furiously washed their hands post-transportation-job.

He glared at her.

"Don't worry Calum, I'm you'll grow big enough to fly yourself in no time." Holly gave him a thumbs-up.

Calum stared at her, then at his back like he'd spotted a decaying rat. At this point in time, the visual difference wasn't entirely clear. Whatever bodily fluid that had covered the wings when they left the inside of his body had dried and made the feathers crusty. Calum did not know what to do about this, so he didn't do anything.

The air was crisp and filled with the crunch of red leaves. It made Calum restless and he was heavily encouraged to take a look around. He spent some time exploring. There was a path along the outside of the tree that led up to Holly's quarters. He let his legs swing over the edge of it and watched Deadwing fly away to collect more supplies from the woods. He hated to admit, a part of him wished this was really happening, and one day he'd be able to fly like that.

"Here's dinner," Holly's head popped out as she pushed aside the circular door that covered the entrance the living room. She handed him another bowl of soup and sat down beside him; her wings stretched out behind him to accommodate.

As much as Calum loved their cooking, this was the only dish he'd sampled. "Soup again?"

Holly laughed, "It's a traditional burning dish, good for the developing muscle."

Calum's brow knit together, "How long is it supposed to last?"

"A week for most welves, but for you? Could be shorter, could be longer. Let me see you bandage." She leaned toward his back and started fussing with the wrap. "You'd roughed up your back pretty badly when we got you, I had to uh, let's say, help your little flappers come out. I find it strange the High Welf went through all the trouble to make it appear as though you're developing like a normal welf, she could has just slapped them on and called it a day. Oh, it's healing nicely, at this rate there won't even be a scar."

Calum grimaced, suddenly losing interest in his meal, "They were really... in me?"

"Mhm," Holly focus was elsewhere. Out of her pocket dress she pulled a pair of scissors, and cut the old bandage off of him. The she produced a small jar and a fresh roll of wrapping. "This is just a homemade salve, it'll cut a third off the healing time."

It was cold and stung like a large bite of lemon. It was then Calum felt how long the cuts were, it was no surprise he ached. She tied it off and patted his back gently. Holly stared at his back for a second, then laughed, sharp and short, as if she'd just come to a realization.

"Your feathers are all stuck together still. I'm so sorry birdie; I keep forgetting you don't know how any of this works. Do you want help preening?"

"Do I want what?" Calum had a bad feeling about this.

"Stay here a moment." She disappeared back inside, returning a moment later with a bowl of water and a rag. "Do you want help getting the ick off?"