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Wilbur let his head rest against the cold glass, condensation cooling the material. Rain speckled the window, blurring his view of the fields that rolled past, his head gently vibrating on the glass as the car rumbled over the rocky road.
He was stolen from his half stupor when a thud sounded from the front of the car, followed by Phil’s surprised scream and the car braking.
"Phil? You okay?" Wilbur asked.
"B-bird flew into the windscreen." His father answered with a slight stutter.
"Oh my god, is it okay?" Wilbur pushed open the car door, hopping out to scramble to the front of the car.
The bird had rolled off the bonnet and lay on the road in front of the car. It had a beautiful red and white plumage with a slew of yellowish feathers on its head. One of its wings was bleeding.
Crouching down, he scooped up the bird, "Hey there little buddy, we're going to get you some help." He whispered to the small thing, bloody rainwater slipping down his wrist.
He got back into the car, now soaking wet. "Phil, get us home. We're going to patch up this guy."
Conveniently, Phil as a vet, even more conveniently specializing in birds and other small animals. The rest of the ride home was spent with Phil calling Techno, Wilbur's brother, to prepare an area for Phil to work in and Wilbur trying to gently dry and warm up the fragile bird cradled in his lap. "I've not even known you for an hour, but I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you're going to get better," Wilbur whispered to the bird, careful to not let Phil hear. Wilbur looked at the bird for another few seconds, "Phil."
"Yes Wil?"
"The bird kind of looks like the McDonalds logo." Wilbur continued, thoughtfully.
Phil sputtered and the bird let out a barely audible, yet annoyed squawk causing Wilbur to chuckle.
"Aw, it's like you can hear what I'm saying…McDonalds." Wilbur cooed.
~~~
They got home less than five minutes later Wilbur had named the bird McDonalds. Phil took over, carefully taking the small figure from Wilbur, holding it gently as of it were a child. "I've got you now, mate. I'll make sure to get you back in top shape in no time." Phil murmured as he carried the bird to where Techno had set everything up.
"So," Techno' s gruff voice spoke to Wilbur from where his brother leaned against the wall next to him, "You named the bird McDonalds."
"He's red, yellow and white, just like the McDonalds logo! Even Phil agreed!" Wilbur defended, eyes on the door that led to the room Phil was working in. They'd both been barred from the room to allow Phil to concentrate, Wilbur protesting, wanting to make sure the bird was okay every step of the way.
"I hope McDonalds is going to be okay," Wilbur wondered out loud.
"Wilbur. I cannot take you seriously with how you named the poor bird. It's a stupid name." Techno bluntly criticized.
"Hey! Wilbur huffed. "It's a perfect name!"
~~~
Wilbur was awoken by the sound of something being knocked over. He lay in bed for a while, wondering what to do. He decided on getting up to investigate the noise. Scanning his room, he looked for something he could defend himself with, the only thing he could come up with was his music stand. Deciding it was better than nothing, he grabbed his stand and creeping out his room, trying to locate the source of the house. Straining his ears, he could barely make out the house of someone's feet shuffling around coming from Phil's room. Wilbur's mind immediately flashed to McDonalds safety. Phil had insisted on keeping McDonalds in his room to "Keep an eye on McDonalds health" and now Wilbur wondered whether the bird was ok. What if the intruder had stolen or injured the bird?
Wilbur pushed open the door of his father's room to find that the birdcage was wide open and empty. Looking further into the room, he realized that his father was facing…a boy?
The boy didn't look to be too old, fifteen at the most. He had a mess of blond hair and was wearing a tattered red and white baseball t-shirt.
"Dad, what is going on?" Wilbur asked Phil, confusion evident as it was clear Phil didn't appear as any threat.
Phil sighed, "Wilbur, meet Tommy, the bird we rescued."
Wilbur made a noise of confusion so Phil continued. "It's hard to believe, I know. Just, Tommy's a shapeshifter. Shifting takes a lot of energy out of him which is why he stayed in bird form last night. Look at his arm."
Looking closer, Tommy had a fresh scar on his left arm, the same side his wing was injured on. But something didn't add up. "Why were you out flying in a storm on a road?"
A flash of panic shadowed Tommy's face, quickly replaced by artificial ease. “Oh y’know, just o-out for a flight. Gotta stretch my wings.”
Phil raised an eyebrow, “In pelting rain. I feel like there’s something more going on here Tommy.”
“Fine! I was just trying to get out of my house for a bit. My brother was scaring me a little so I decided to get out for a bit.”
Wilbur raised an eyebrow, “Why were you scared of your brother?”
Tommy mumbled something under his breath.
“What was that?” Wilbur asked.
“He was just yelling and shit.” Tommy spoke a little louder.
“Tommy,” Phil started, cautious, “Is your brother always like this?”
Tommy chewed on a lip, and slowly and nervously nodded.
In a span of ten minutes, Wilbur had gone from thinking Tommy was an intruder to wanting to wrap him up in a blanket and never let him go.
"Oh, Tommy. I'm so sorry." Wilbur whispered to the boy in front of him. "Can I hug you?"
Tommy shrugged, making no effort to move. Wilbur inched forward, arms awkwardly open in a hugging gesture. When Tommy made no effort to move away, Wilbur wrapped his arms around Tommy. "It's ok, we can be your family now if you want."
Tommy smiled, “yeah, I think I would like that.”