Work Text:
She sung. She sung as the sun rose, and that pale morning light filtered in through the bars of her cage, and sirens screamed across the city.
The dark hadn’t been put over home last night. Mom didn’t come in to whistle. Dad didn’t come in with food, or fresh water. Sister wasn’t there to offer a finger.
“Step up, Lucky. Step up.”
She already missed finger time.
She could smell smoke. The smoke was frightening, but it was outside. So, she sung.
Buddy didn’t sing back.
Days passed, as she waited. Voices passed outside. There was no new seed. No new water.
Her song grew quieter.
She slept.
Sounds startled her awake. Shattering glass, and raised voices. Young ones, shouting.
“What a pretty budgie,” she heard a voice saying, from right outside the bars.
That voice brought hope.