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Even as dawn approached, the medics at the Great Tree’s infirmary remained restless. The Battle of Forever and a Day was just over, marking the victory of the Guardians of Ga’Hoole over the wicked Pure Ones. Even as the healthy Guardians were giddy about their victory and hard-earned peace, the infirmary did not share their serenity. Due to the lack of medical personnel at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree, the medics from the Northern Kingdoms have volunteered to stay behind to aid their wounded allies.
‘The Barred Owl at the corner was still bleeding out! I need more bandages!’ cried a nestmaid snake.
‘Please stop screaming, it will all be over soon,’ cooed a Glauxian Brother to an inpatient amidst all the chaos.
‘Brother Cleve, get over here! I can’t walk this patient into the hollow all by myself!’ yelled a Short-eared owl, shaking under the heavy weight of a Great Grey.
The Spotted Owl sighed, just having taken notice of his shaking legs. Damn, I haven’t eaten a single thing since… Glaux knows when, he thought. ‘On it!’ he shouted back, turning his head towards his friend. Ignoring his feebleness, he dashed towards the hollow’s entrance and positioned himself under the starboard wing of the injured soldier.
‘On three?’ suggested the Short-eared owl whom Cleve called Brother Ru, barely disguising his exhaustion.
The prince nodded, ‘One,’ he began to count.
‘Two,’
‘Three!’
As they both screamed the number three, they each put a leg forward, supporting the Great Grey.
Hearing the commotion at the entrance, Mrs. P, who had offered to help at the Infirmary, hastily set up a simple nest for her injured comrade out of whatever moss was left in the overcrowded room.
‘Urgh,’ groaned the Great Grey, trying her hardest to walk by herself. ‘I’m sorry to be such a burden, boys.’ There was a melancholic tone to her voice.
By the deepness and gravitas of it, Cleve could tell that the patient was an older female. Perhaps a noble guardian who had her spirit chipped away after years of fighting. At that moment, he knew that he could do nothing but comfort her. Without twisting his neck, the prince spoke in a lower voice, one that he would otherwise only use on a lady he fancied. ‘It’s alright, madam. It is our duty to heal you.’
The female grunted, seemingly not convinced by Cleve’s kind words.
At last, Cleve and Brother Ru put her down on the nest Mrs. P prepared for her. ‘Thank you, Ma’am.’ He said, turning to the nestmaid snake.
‘Think nothing of it,’ smiled Mrs. P before slithering off to a patient who had just woken up.
More than anything, the prince was impressed by how this particular nestmaid snake managed to remain so joyful throughout all of the commotion. With all of the tortured wails in the hollow, one would have thought they had already died and arrived at hagsmire.
‘Your port radius is broken,’ said Brother Ru matter-of-factly.
The radius was a long but thin bone in an owl’s wing. The Great Grey gasped, perhaps too stunned to speak.
Oh, Brother Ru and his bluntness. Smirked Cleve. At that moment, his mind was tempted to drift towards the image of a beautiful Spotted Owl who, like this patient, had also had her spirit chipped away by the toils of war. Yet, he stopped himself from his nightdreaming and came back to reality. ‘Don’t worry, madam. You’re in good hands,’ he reassured her.
The warrior gave him a shallow nod, likely too painful to speak.
The minutes passed him by as he and Brother Ru treated the wounded soldier.
By the time he finished bandaging the Great Grey, the sun had already painted the sky a golden hue. As the sunlight poured into the hollow, so did the darkened stilouette of a Spotted Owl. With the shadow juxtaposing the glorious morning light, a gilded tapestry appeared before the prince’s eyes. Judging by her sophisticated composure, it was unlikely the owl was coming because she was wounded. If anything, she looked more like a hengleen of light, the name of owl angels Cleve read about in old folktales.
As the figure stepped into the hollow, the darkness in her plumage morphed into a tawny brown decorated by intricate white spots woven into her feathers. For a patient, her eyes were gleaming so brightly that Cleve could almost see stars in them. Without him even noticing, Cleve cocked his head ever so slightly, ‘Good evening, miss.’ It seemed inappropriate to call her madam as she looked about his age.
‘Miss?’ she questioned, turning her head sideways in a manner that some would see as obnoxious, snobbish, even.
The strange thing was that he did not mind the mock testiness one bit. If anything, it made speaking to her all the more entertaining. A very traditional name lingered in his beak, one that he was tempted to say just to hear the nice ting of it. Yet, he figured that it would be far more entertaining to tease her a little more. ‘Well, you don’t look like a madam to me. Perhaps My Lady suits you better?’ He said, giving her a wink.
Otulissa could not help but churr softly at the remark. ‘Perhaps, Your Highness.’ She said, giving him a little bow while maintaining eye contact.
Cleve’s gizzard gave itself a little squeeze at her addressing him by his title. Ever since he became a Glauxian Brother, no one was so deferential as to address him as Your Highness. He was in no way used to the reverence in those two words, even if she was clearly mocking him. The prince sighed, ‘Good morning, Otulissa. How may I help you?’ All of a sudden, he switched to a professional voice, one he would use in front of a complete stranger.
She took two steps closer to Cleve, gesturing her beak towards a bandaged part of her feathery right leg. ‘I was wondering if I’ve bandaged my wound properly,’ she said, batting her eyelashes at him, turning her head in a way that her face would look the most flattering in Cleve’s angle. Then, she raised her head, facing the prince directly. ‘I didn’t want to bother you medics since you must be incredibly busy–’
‘Don’t worry, dear,’ said Cleve, his voice growing softer at the sight of Otulissa’s bashful face. ‘That’s what we’re here for. I’m always happy to help.’ At those words, he couldn’t resist the urge to wink at her again. Then, his gaze moved towards Otulissa’s extended leg. ‘Let me check.’ Without a second word, he began to remove the dressing on her wound.
As all of that was happening, Otulissa gave herself a subtle grin while Brother Ru, Mrs. P, and the still-injured Gylfie watched the shameless flivling happen before their very eyes. All three of them, including some of the brothers and patients, were too invested in the banter to say anything.
The chaotic room became quieter and quieter the longer Cleve took to unwrap Otulissa’s bandage. As a pious Glauxian Brother, he should be ashamed of his actions, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the calmness and attention all of this had brought him. As unprofessional as his thoughts were, he failed to resist the urge to admire the sight before him. She’s got pretty nice legs, he smiled, mildly shocked by the audaciousness of his thoughts. The longer he spent time with Otulissa, the more her beauty seemed to have sought him. What should have been a simple gesture of a doctor treating his patient became a spectacle among both patients and medics. Instead of resting, many of their eyes were glued to the two as if observing a sporting event. Never in Cleve’s life would he think that a curious sight would make for such good anesthesia.
When Cleve got to unwrapping the final lengths of bandage, he discovered that there was hardly any blood on it. The once-open wound left but a few dots of light pink fluid on it. Letting out a subtle huff in relief, Cleve put the dirty bandaid aside and made eye contact with Otulissa, who was now shaking her leg ever so slightly from lifting her leg for so long, a posture that was not natural for an owl in normal circumstances. ‘You can put your leg down now,’ he instructed with his usual kindly demeanour.
Otulissa put her leg down and started to look around her.
‘There’s nothing to worry about, Otulissa. From the look of the bandage, the serous fluid has mixed with some of your blood to form that pink mixture you see. It’s a sign that you’re healing, just remember to not get your wound wet and change bandages at least once a day.’ He remarked at the now alarmed Otulissa.
At that moment, Otulissa was turning her head, looking at the judgmental gazes of everybody who wasn’t asleep at the time. Hearing Cleve’s voice, she reverted her attention to him once more. This time, the tone in her voice was more neutral; all of the previous flirtatiousness sucked back into her throat. ‘Thank you, Cleve,’ she said simply. ‘What a relief.’ Yet, her talkative nature failed to stop her from adding more to the conversation, ‘Oh, you don’t need to explain what serous fluids are, I’ve read all about it. The mixture you’ve mentioned was called serosanguinous fluid, if I recall correctly.’
Cleve churred at how… Otulissa the response to his medical jargon was, most patients would not even understand what serous fluids were. Let alone add an even more grandiose word to the mix. ‘That’s no problem at all, Otulissa.’ Inadvertently, his voice grew deeper.
To the prince’s disappointment, Otulissa was not as reciprocal to his flirty remarks. Instead, she was scanning the room for any prying eyes again, which so happens to be full of them.
His smile fading, Cleve jolted to a corner of the room to get more bandages, covering Otulissa’s wound with some of it before cutting off the rest. It was far more sturdy than the one Otulissa had made herself. It was not exactly easy for an owl to bandage oneself, it was impressive that his friend managed to do that in the first place. From his knowledge, the original bandaging was reminiscent of how soldiers would wrap up their wounds on the battlefield. While it was quick and efficient, it was not the most comfortable style out there. ‘Here you go, it feels better than the previous bandaid, doesn’t it?’ He said right after tying a neat little knot on the dressing.
Astonishingly enough, the usually feisty Otulissa said nothing to the unintentional jab at her bandaging skills. Instead, she let out a soft chuckle before giving her leg a cute little wiggle. ‘Much better, I didn’t know they trained you to prioritize comfort of all things.’
Cleve was no stranger to compliments of his medical prowess; those words of praise were so common that he’d usually not feel anything upon hearing them, but this felt different. Perhaps it was because these words were coming out of the beak of a pretty female that made all the difference, but Cleve would hate to believe that he would be so superficial. Slashing the swelling sense of pride in half, a more somber feeling filled his gizzard. What was the role of a medic but to offer comfort to his patients? Thinking about Otulissa's staunch belief in war, it was plausible that her own comfort was but an afterthought in those harsh battles. As he thought about the tribulations the Spotted Owl before him must have persevered through, his eyes narrowed into two slits. How much he wanted to wrap her in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay, that so long as he was there, she would not know any discomfort. Yet, he could not bear the risk of scaring Otulissa off this early on in their relationship, if it would even evolve to that at all. No, he shall control himself, especially in front of everyone in the room.
Otulissa cocked her head, concerned, her bright eyes locked with his. ‘Are you alright, Cleve?’
He shook his head rapidly, ‘No,’ he paused. ‘No, I meant, no, I am alright. There’s nothing to worry about.’
Brother Ru, who was standing beside the Great Grey the whole time, furrowed the muscles above his eyes to indicate doubt.
Otulissa covered her beak with her starboard wing, ‘Sure,’ she said, sounding very unsure. ‘You must be tired. I shall not bother you any further.’
‘No-’
Before his words reached Otulissa’s ear slits, she had already hopped off to seek her friend Gylfie. ‘I brought you some snacks,’ he could hear her say.
The little Elf Owl’s eyes fluttered open and whispered something to Otulissa.
Not wanting to interrupt their conversation, Cleve stood there aimlessly, fixating on the Spotted Owl he had adored so much.
In the meantime, all the other eyes in the room were on Cleve, the foolish prince who was too lovesick for his own good.
With that, Cleve sighed as his gizzard gave itself the biggest squeeze ever. Well, at least the patients seem rather happy.