Page 99 of Ruby
Ree starts to speak just as Ani starts to thrash again, arms flailing as she lashes out with her talons.
I surge forward, stopping Ani before she can break skin, letting out a long breath when I see she hasn’t opened up fresh wounds. Her wings thrash in violent, uncoordinated surges, and although I have another set of hands, they are not so easily contained. The span is too wide for the hut. The right wing strikes the wall with a heavy thud, the odd claws at the tip gouging into the woven fiber.
Thivoll swears under his breath.
“If she wakes like this,” he says, “she’ll tear the place apart.”
“Or herself,” Ree adds quietly.
Another spasm ripples through her shoulders. The primary joint rolls at a dangerous angle.
“We need to bind them,” I say.
“Bind her wings?” Ree asks.
“Yes.”
I move closer, careful with my footing, lowering myself beside her without creating sudden air movement that might activate her reflexes. The feathers shiver again, tendons pulling too tight.
“When a fledgling burns with fever,” I say, keeping my voice steady, “the body forgets its boundaries. The flight muscles misfire. They attempt to launch from enclosed spaces.”
As if summoned by the words, her left wing lashes outward. The tip slams into a support beam with enough force to splinter the edge.
Ree flinches.
“If we allow this to continue,” I go on, “she will tear her flight feathers or dislocate the joints.”
Thivoll’s jaw tightens. “So we tie her down.”
“We stabilize her, but only wrap them to her,” I correct gently. “As we would a young one. Wings secured against the body. Joints supported. It is not restraint for control. It is protection.”
Ree studies the angle of the next convulsion, calculating.
“How long?” she asks.
“Until she wakes and… whatever is happening… recedes,” I say. “When awareness returns, coordination will follow.”
Another violent twitch runs through her. Her claws scrape against me.
Thivoll exhales sharply. “Then we do it now.”
Ree nods once and pulls items from the bulging pouches she has made on her black suit, handing them to me.
I reach for the prepared cloth strips, thick and wide enough to distribute pressure without cutting circulation.
“Go get a rope to lay over those, Thivoll,” Ree instructs and he bounds away without question.
“We bind carefully,” I say. “Not tight. Just firm enough to prevent extension.”
Thivoll is back in moments, a rough woven rope slung around his neck.
Together, the three of us move in deliberate coordination, waiting for the brief lull between spasms, guiding each wing inward, folding the feathers along their natural line.
She fights the motion reflexively, strength amplified beyond anything I would expect, movements faster than even I could attempt.
There are changes that are more than just from me, but I don’t let my mind linger on what that will mean for her.
“It’s all right,” Ree murmurs soothingly, though the unconscious cannot hear.
