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It was autumn, food was growing short and Tim wasn’t yet big enough to hunt for himself. His wings were still covered in a layer of chick-down, and he was still so, so small. Smaller than any of the other chicks his age, his mother had said.
He had been out exploring, but by the time he got back to their spare cabin in a forest to the north, the car they’d arrived in was gone. Tim was frantic, running around desperately as he searched for his parents, “M-mom? Dad!?”
Tim chirped worriedly, tears gathering in his eyes as a particularly biting wind chewed against his bare skin. Tim tried to pry open the cabin’s door, but his parents seemed to have locked it before they left. The balconies were too high for him to climb with his barely-there talons, and he had neither the muscles nor feathers to begin to fly. There were lower windows, but Tim didn’t want to risk his parent’s ire by breaking the glass.
He went to the back and tugged at the back door, hissing in frustration when it didn’t open. Tim could try and make his way back to the Drake Manor, but that was miles away! Tim would never be able to make the distance, especially without a flock. His stomach was beginning to growl too.
The small child nervously began to construct a plan. He could attempt to walk home, but the manor was miles and miles away, there was no way Tim could walk that far without getting food first. He should first go and find food, that way he can fill himself up first before heading back to the manor.
Tim… he wasn’t quite sure how to hunt. He wasn’t supposed to join his parents in hunting until his first flight feathers grew in! But everything will be fine, Tim’s a fast learner, so he can learn how to hunt!
He tried his best to shuffle through the forest quietly, wincing as a twig snapped and scared off the rabbit he was trying to stalk. Tim hissed in frustration, tears starting to prick against his eyes as his stomach clenched painfully. His mother and father had both stated before how barbaric it was to hunt and make bird noises, but they weren't here right now and Tim was so hungry .
He continued through the forest. He would try and find fruits or berries or nuts to eat, but it was autumn! All the fruits and berries have already either dropped or have been eaten, and all the trees in the area seemed to be conifers and oaks, Tim knows he can’t eat too many acorns or else his stomach will hurt .
Tim couldn’t help the cries of frustrated-scared-hungry-hungry-hungry from leaving his lips as he continued to push himself on. He could feel his limbs trembling both from the hunger and the cold as he stumbled and fell face-first into the cold, cold mud. A few whimpers escaped his lips as he struggled to right himself.
He felt so weak, and every part of him was protesting the idea of continuing to walk. Tim continued to cry out helpless chirps as he curled into a ball. His limbs were heavy, and he could barely get himself to move. Strength was leaving him fast, and Tim felt himself losing to the darkness.
Tim could feel himself being picked up within the hazy darkness, the smell of gunpowder, blood, and sun. He remembers blinking up and seeing black hair streaked with white before the darkness took him away once again.
When Tim next woke up, he was warm yet itchy. His face was no longer covered with cold mud, yet his shirt and wings were still caked in it. Tim was lying on something soft, pillows and blankets, and the room smelled both unfamiliar and familiar of gunpowder and sun. He looked around, fear beginning to settle into his bones as he took in the room. He was in a place far from where Tim had collapsed. The trees outside changed, no longer just sharp green needles of conifers but the broad gold-orange-reds of deciduous trees.
He remembers his mother telling him something long, long ago. Something about how strange and foreign avians were prone to devouring hatchlings like him. Tim wasn’t sure why they’d kept him instead of straight up eating and killing him, but Tim was sure that it wasn’t for anything good.
Tim winced as his stomach pangs came back full force, biting back a call for his flock as he stumbled towards the door.
Jason had been patrolling the northern border of their territory when a small shape caught his eye. He slinked closer to examine it, but it turned out to be a nestling . Just laying there , in the mud! What the hell??? The hatchling still has his chick-down, and no parents in sight, in stranger flock territories nonetheless! Jason narrowed his eyes, this just wouldn’t do. If Bruce gets to adopt stray hatchlings, then Jason surely could too!
He quickly decided, scooping the small hatchling into his arms before taking off, heading back in the direction of the manor. He frowned at the mud coating the tiny chicklet’s face and clothes, something tugged in his chest, telling him to bundle the chick away into his nest. He bumped the door open with his hips before shoving it open with his wings.
Jason made a bee-line to the main bathroom, the only one in the manor that could accommodate the family’s wing size. He propped the kid up against the door before grabbing a washbasin under the sink and filling it up with warm water. He had to search a bit more for a washcloth, but he eventually found a clean one before getting to work. Jason gently ran the washcloth repeatedly over the kid’s face, softening as he saw the kid lean into the warmth.
The motions quickly became repetitive and soothing. As the dirt was wiped away from the kid’s face, Jason could see freckles splattered across pale skin. Now that he looked closer, the kid seemed a little too thin for Jason’s taste. Who was supposed to be taking care of him? Why did they just abandon their kid out in the middle of an unfamiliar flock’s territory?
Barely holding back a hiss of rage, Jason finished cleaning the kid’s face and dumped out the dirty murky water. There was still mud clinging to the kid’s shirt and wings, but Jason wasn’t going to touch either of those until the kid woke up.
He easily lifted the kid into his arms- and wow, the kid should not be this light. Jason narrowed his eyes in disapproval before taking the kid back to his room across the hall. He laid the kid down on his bed before leaving the room to make a call to Bruce and find Alfred.
“Hello?”
Jason relaxed slightly as Bruce answered, “Bruce, I found this kid just lying in the mud while I was patrolling the forest! Like, all alone! He was out cold, with no flight feathers, so I’d pin him at around six or seven. He didn’t even have any identifying marks or jewelry or even a family name anywhere on him! Who would leave a child out in the middle of ass-fuck nowhere? In the middle of our territory?!”
“Jay, calm down,” Bruce soothed, the sound of wingbeats audible through the phone, “It’ll be okay. We’ll find out what’s going on, alright? Go ask Alfred to make some stew for the chick, and then you go stay by him. Lord knows what he’s been through. I’ll go give Dick a call, alright?”
“Okay, and if the kid turned out to not have a flock…” Jason allowed a mischievous lilt to enter his voice, his feathers puffing up in a pleased manner as he heard Bruce’s sigh.
Bruce sounded resigned, “Only if he doesn’t have a flock, Jason. We won’t kidnap another flock’s chick.”
Jason was almost to the kitchen, hopefully, Alfred would be there, “Even if they’re not treating him well?”
“...Go find Alfred, Jason,” Bruce sighed before hanging up the call. Jason smiled and pocketed the phone. Bruce absolutely wanted to adopt this kid, Jason could tell.
Thankfully, Alfred was indeed in the kitchen. “Alfie!”
“Hello, Master Jason,” Alfred greeted lightly in that familiar British voice, “what is it that you need?”
Jason shifted his weight slightly, his feathers rustling lightly against each other, “Well, I found this nestling while out on patrol, Alfie. He was just lying in the mud! He doesn’t even have flight feathers . He’s upstairs right now, in my room. I cleaned his face up, but I didn’t want to touch his wings and clothes. Could you make some stew for him? I don’t know how long he was out in the cold, Alfie, and he’s just so little .”
Alfred visibly softened at Jason’s distress, “Of course, Master Jason. You should go accompany the chicklet, and I will get started on the stew.”
“Thank you, Alfie!” Jason shot the butler a smile before streaking up the stairs and back to the room.
Jason flared out his wings and flicked his tail to stop himself from crashing into the wall. Just as he was about to open his bedroom door, the handle turned and the door swung open by itself. The kid was awake now, a pinched look on his face as he walked into Jason’s legs.
The kid looked up at him through bleary and tear-filled eyes, numerous chirps of hungry-hungry-scared-where-where-flock spilling from his lips. Jason’s chest clenched as he reached down and hoisted the kid into his arms, answering calls of safe-safe-here-relax-relax .
“You awake now, baby bird?” Jason asked. The kid nodded, staring up at Jason with wide, scared eyes. “What’s your name, kid?”
“T-Tim,” the kid responded in a small voice.
Jason just about melted, “Alright, Tim, how about we get you washed, hm? You still have mud all over your wings, chicklet, and your shirt. I’ll bring you some clothes, okay?”
Tim nodded slowly as Jason brought him into the bathroom, “Here you go. I’ll be back in a bit, chicklet.”
Jason was reluctant to leave the small child, but Tim needed clothes other than the muddy ones he was wearing. Alfred would probably be willing to wash the clothes before returning them to Tim. After rooting through his old clothes and finding nothing that could fit the child, Jason made his way to where Dick’s old clothes were before settling on something simple. It was the smallest thing he could find, but it would make do.
He quickly ran back to the bathroom, only to find Tim standing there awkwardly with tears running down his face, soft distressed chirps bouncing off of the walls. The shower still hadn’t been turned on yet.
“Timmy, what’s wrong?” Jason cooed gently, setting the clothes down on top of the counters before kneeling in front of the kid. He gently reached up and cupped the hatchling’s face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears. Something both possessive and protective curled around his chest, urging him to bundle the child away into their nest.
“I-I thought you were gonna leave ,” Tim sobbed softly, tucking his face into Jason’s neck, his tiny hands clutching Jason’s shirt as if it was his lifeline.
Jason softened, reaching up to card his hand through Tim’s black hair, “Don’t worry, chicklet, I’m not gonna leave you. Even if I do, I promise I’ll come back.”
“P-promise?” Tim peered up at him with watery blue eyes, his voice soft and oh-so fragile.
“Of course baby bird,” Jason tucked the kid’s head under his chin, “I promise .”