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“Bro, your back– should there be that much blood?”
Wemmbu stares dumbly at Parrot as his companion pauses, shoots him a confused look, and then starts to try to crane his neck into a good position to see it himself. “What?”
“Like– your wings. I kinda thought it was someone else’s, but uh…” He laughs nervously, watching the blood drip steadily to the ground. It doesn’t pause, keeping at a regular pace. It’s growing concerning and Wemmbu curses himself for missing it. In his defense, fighting through and running from a swarm of Lawmen would make most people too busy to catch it.
“I mean, I don’t–” Parrot cuts off and hunches over, eyes glistening with pain that Wemmbu knows just hit in a wave. He lets out a strangled noise. There goes any hope the blood was from anyone else.
“Uhh, dude. We didn’t just face all that for you to do this.” Wemmbu really hopes this isn’t going to go downhill and put all his effort to waste here.
“Nah, bro, I’m good,” Parrot waves him off but braces an arm against a tree at his side.
“You don’t look good, bro,” Egg pipes up from Wemmbu’s right, staring over at Parrot like he’s cataloguing his every movement. “Yeah. Not good to like, the maximum percent.”
“I gotta agree with my buddy Egg here, Parrot.” Wemmbu crosses his arms. “How much time do we have to get there?”
“Like, uh, a day? And three hours. Ish.” Parrot’s shoulders shift and then seize up, like he was attempting a shrug.
“Okaaaay. So, not enough time to mess around like this.” Wemmbu frowns.
“Exactly.” Parrot nods his agreement, but sounds too winded to be any level of persuasive. “Which means we gotta keep moving.” He steps away from the tree and sways– Wemmbu lunges forward to catch him, but he’s steadied himself and starts to push through the snow again. It’s slow and looks painful, but Parrot just bites down on his lip and moves without a noise. A trickle of blood runs from under his teeth.
“No!” Wemmbu’s annoyed now. “It means, we need to get that fixed ASAP. Like now. You’re gonna drag us down.” He shifts through his inventory and finds a golden apple that he holds out toward the bird. He doesn’t have as many resources on hand after the fight, but he’s got plenty.
Parrot stops in his tracks, snow plowed up in his wake, and blinks at Wemmbu with wide eyes like he’s trying to figure out something unusual.
“Bro. You don’t use gapples for wings,” Egg provides helpfully from where he still lurks at Wemmbu’s side. Parrot’s gaze shifts to him. “Too many little fragile bones. It’s like slapping a band-aid around toothpicks. They get all jumbled up and weird.”
“Band-aid on… what?”
“He’s right.” Parrot sounds utterly defeated, not even acknowledging the weird metaphor, like this is the one thing that finally crushes all of his plans. He’ll be too injured to continue on, he’ll miss the debate, and then what was any of this for? Wemmbu… is honestly thinking the same thing. “It needs regen and bandaging.”
“Ohhh right, like… old-school, need-to-be-patient stuff.” Wemmbu grimaces. He remembers something like that now, but Egg hasn’t really had any wing injuries Wemmbu’s needed to deal with recently.
“Yeah,” Parrot says hollowly. “Not a fan.”
He tries to push onward. He falls to a knee. His arms tremble as he braces himself on the ground, snow melting slowly around the hands he’s plunged into it.
Wemmbu’s closed the distance between them before he realizes it, reaching for Parrot to draw him up. He lists to one side as Wemmbu pulls him upright, and Wemmbu’s hands latch onto both shoulders.
He stares at Eggchan for help.
“Alright man, you need to sit down,” he says as he turns back to Parrot, pressing at his shoulders gently. His legs give way without much pressure, weight dropping quickly as Egg catches and guides him to the ground with a ‘whoa!’
“...He is not that heavy, actually.”
“Yeah, no duh, he’s a bird.”
“I’m right here,” Parrot complains, but his words slur together. The blood loss is clearly getting to him. Wemmbu curses.
“Not one gapple? Not one?” He complains as he sifts through his ender chest. He’s got to have regeneration somewhere… maybe, probably. He’s got a whole lot of fishing rods. Great, fabulous, but not what he needs right now. He pushes aside three as he reaches for a shulker box.
“Bro’s gonna… hnnmmmmm.” Parrot’s eyelids fall lower.
“Uh. Alright, here.” Wemmbu drops regen outside of the shulker shell, the thick bottle of a drinkable potion bouncing along the ground as Egg complains about it being sanitary or something. He pulls out bandages too, the end of the roll fluttering in the breeze where it hadn’t been fastened last time. Egg makes another comment about unhygienic conditions and Wemmbu shoots him a look– he doesn’t see anything better lying around here.
Egg leans in as he stoops down, whispering a question about death.
It draws him up short. Honestly, Wemmbu hadn’t been thinking about it. That, or maybe he’d been stubbornly ignoring the idea since he saw the injury.
Parrot’s right here, wounded and incapacitated. Wemmbu watches the avian while Egg stares at him questioningly, no doubt wondering what decision Wemmbu’s making right now but prepared to support it.
There’s a part of Wemmbu that itches to pounce on this weakness, dig in his fingers and tear into it, to take advantage of Parrot’s injury and use it to put him six feet in the ground. His hand drifts to his mace handle almost absently as he considers all the ways he could make Parrot bleed.
Parrot’s head sways to one side, dark eyes drifting over Wemmbu’s form as blood dries on his chin. He mutters something, voice thick and strange.
It’s in this moment that Wemmbu decides he’s better than that. He’s better than Parrot. Wemmbu’s hands aren’t free of blood, and they never will be, but… maybe they can be free of his. The guy has grown on him.
“We’re fixing him up,” Wemmbu decides, his tone decisive and sharper than it needs to be. Egg only nods and gets to work. Man, Wemmbu is so thankful for this guy.
Parrot wings aren’t out in the open, they’re bound in a casing that Wemmbu’s seen on many an avian– it’s like armor for the wings, restricting them but keeping them guarded. Not flat against the back, but flatter than letting them puff out naturally. Must be uncomfortable, honestly, but better in battle than keeping them out in the open where they could be targeted. Parrot wears them a lot.
Egg reaches for the straps. He loosens one, then two before Parrot seems to realize what he’s doing. He’s only just started on the third when Parrot’s eyes blow wide and a shriek splits the air.
Parrot pulls back with an unnatural strength, injury seemingly forgotten as he scrambles away from them both. He rises and falls, collapsing on his side heavily before rolling, lunging for a tree to help drag himself up again. It all happens in a flash– Wemmbu blinks and he’s cowering before the trunk, a snarl on his face and wild fear in his eyes. His back presses fully against the bark to support him and Wemmbu almost winces at the sight, standing up too.
Parrot screams, “Stop!” as Egg makes a move, pupils shrunk so far that Wemmbu can hardly see their dark color. Egg halts in place. He looks distressed already.
“Dude, what?” Wemmbu still holds the bandages uselessly, arms fallen limp at his sides. “...Blood loss is so annoying,” he breathes to Egg. He is not paid enough for this.
He takes a step and Parrot stumbles back further, losing his balance. He hits the snow hard.
The already loose and damaged wing covers are coming free in all the action. Feathers are visible, puffed out and misaligned. Wemmbu puts his hands up, grimacing, and that’s all it takes– Parrot doesn’t see it as a gesture, just movement, and his wings beat once, twice, before throwing off one covering. It lands on the ground behind him, the other still fastened.
Wemmbu advances another step.
Parrot kicks up snow as his boots strike out for purchase. He looks ready to fight and claw and bite a path away from Wemmbu. He lets out a loud wail, a keen of pure distress and exhausted panic.
Wemmbu pauses. He looks back at Egg– and has to search for him for a moment, he’s backed so far away. He looks green.
“Dude,” Egg whispers.
“Don’t touch me!” Parrot words are clearer now than they were before, the heavy pull of blood loss forgotten in his frighteningly bright eyes. He looks feverish more than anything. Insane. Running off frantic adrenaline.
“Don’t– don’t–” he babbles. He shoots to his feet then bends over and retches, bile hitting the ground as his chest heaves. “Go away!”
He screams like there’s fire under his skin.
“What do we do?” Wemmbu hisses, wide eyes trained on Parrot as he tears himself apart in terror, tears dribbling off his face. “What’s wrong with him?!”
“Dude,” Egg repeats, seeming just as lost. His voice wavers. “He’s somewhere else. Like mentally.”
“Yeah,” Wemmbu agrees with a forcefully deep breath. “...I’m like so freaked out right now.”
Parrot’s whipped around and found the ruined wing cover– he lunges for it, hitting the ground and drawing it to his chest. Instead of reaching for his back he only tightens his hold on it, talons drawing grooves across the leather surface, frozen as he clutches it like it’s his last hope.
Another step. Parrot’s eyes snap to him, but lose their focus like he’s staring straight though.
“My wings,” he sobs. “Stop. Stop! Stop, no!”
He isn’t running anymore. Just sits like stone, spitting and shrieking protests as he shakes like a leaf. Wemmbu doesn’t stop, just continues advancing as Parrot shrinks back a sliver.
Wemmbu’s hand lands on the wing cover, latches firmly around it.
Parrot’s wide eyes meet his, and it feels like the first time the two actually look at each other.
Wemmbu’s met with an expression of such hopelessness it makes him pause. Parrot’s desperation clogs the air, drowning the avian and dragging him down deeper.
Parrot doesn’t resist as Wemmbu pulls the covering away.
“No… no…” he rasps. Leather draws slowly away from his reach, freed and thrown to the ground. His expression breaks further– Wemmbu didn’t think it possible.
It feels like that’s the moment when the rest of him breaks too.
Parrot is silent, dead silent, eerie after such an outburst. He nearly goes limp, but doesn’t collapse– just lets Wemmbu tug his arms down and drag him further upright. He moves like a lifeless doll.
He doesn’t stop Wemmbu from removing the last wing guard. He pulls Parrot around so he can reach his back, his wings extended behind him. Wemmbu’s brows draw further together with each second that passes.
Wemmbu looks to Egg for assistance, almost desperate for it, but he keeps his distance. He looks sick, physically ill, all pale skin and shaking hands.
Throughout it all, Parrot cries. It’s soft, like he’s trying to hide his quivering shoulders, but never ceases. He just sniffles and whines, the noise leaking out into the air like slowly trickling water.
Some part of Wemmbu aches at this, deeper than he thought he could hurt for Parrot.
A murmur in the air. “He didn’t let us, he didn’t want us to. He literally gave up. Dude.”
Wemmbu doesn’t respond to Egg, just works steadily and wordlessly. The sooner this is over with, the better.
Egg leaves at some point, disappearing between the trees. He can’t stomach it. Wemmbu can, because he won’t let some fit keep him from saving Parrot’s life.
Every sob tears at him a little more.
-----
It’s a couple hours later when Parrot next speaks. He sits with his legs pulled up to his chest as his wings rest behind him, bandages at their bases. Wemmbu’s staring off at the horizon, not really sure what he’s focusing on, but muted crying still rings in his ears.
“Hey.” His voice sounds distant.
Wemmbu looks over. “Hey.”
Eloquent. Fabulous conversation starters, both of them.
“I should’ve just taken the gapple,” Parrot complains after a few minutes. “I almost did.”
“Huh? You heard Egg. Would’ve messed up your wings.”
“Bro.” Parrot turns his head slowly to stare at him. It looks rather creepy, but mostly accusatory. Wemmbu’s eyes narrow defensively.
“What?” His voice rises.
“Did you not–” Parrot’s eyes widen. His wings shift behind him, feathers and bandages rustling. Little movements that reflect his emotions– people with wings always seem a little bit more expressive, more alive, in Wemmbu’s eyes. It’s like having a second expression, after one’s face. “Dude. My wings are ruined already.”
“They’re… wait, huh?” Wemmbu sits up an inch straighter, eyes flashing back to Parrot’s wings as they shrink away instinctively at the sudden motion.
“Bro. You know how healthy wings look. Egg’s got like… eight of them.”
“Six,” he corrects absentmindedly, still staring.
Parrot’s laughter is disbelieving. “Okay but like, see? How did you not notice?!”
“I just thought that’s how parrot wings look!” Wemmbu throws up his hands defensively. “Egg doesn’t have parrot wings! He has Eggchan wings!”
“Brooo.” Parrot puts his hands in his face. Like he’s the one having to deal with some incapable loser, not Wemmbu.
“No.” Wemmbu points at him, refusing to be made fun of for this. “Hold up. I’ve literally seen you fly before.”
“Not for ages!” Parrot cries as he looks up from his hands. “Why do you think I use an elytra?!”
“Like, for battle! Theo does! Wings are vulnerable or whatever!”
“I mean.” Parrot stops. “...Yeah. True. A lot quicker to use with chestplates too.”
“You admit it!” Wemmbu feels a grin flash across his face at the victory. “It’s not even crazy that I didn’t notice.”
Parrot just groans before weak laughter starts to shake his shoulders again. “ ‘He has Eggchan wings,’ bro.” He quotes it like he’s mourning. Like it’s the most pathetic thing that could’ve been said.
“Shut up.” Wemmbu doesn’t even grace him with a proper reply, turning his nose up and looking away, but an amused smirk tugs at his lips. It falls after a minute.
“Wait, why didn’t you then? Take the gapple?”
“Hmm? Oh.” Parrot runs a hand through his hair, letting out a hissing breath between his teeth. “Just like… so, it might work for the worst thing, but then it would probably mess them up another way when doing that. Cramp the muscles, heal them weird, maybe fuse the bones.” He stares into the distance. “My wings… they don’t work for flight, but they’re still two whole limbs attached to me. If they actually got worse it’d be pretty terrible.”
Wemmbu chews on that explanation for a bit.
“Okay. Then yeah, don’t even consider the gapple bro. Stupid.”
“Bro.” Parrot doesn’t respond further, just buries his face in his hands again with a long sigh.
Wemmbu’s struck with the reality of how much this means to Parrot– logically, he knows already, he’s seen the lengths Parrot’s gone to and realizes what he’ll do to become king. It’s a whole other thing, though, to hear him consider mutilating his own wings further to have a better chance at it.
Wemmbu’s feeling antsy already, just waiting here as the regen sits in place under the bandages, but it must be killing Parrot. He visibly tests his wings every other second, small jumps of movement that Wemmbu zeroes in on once he notices. He’s itching to get out of here more than Wemmbu is.
“Ten more minutes, bro.” Wemmbu reminds him, hating the words with his entire being. “Eggchan’s orders. No moving around.” This is stupid. Why does slow stupid regen take so stupid long to stupid work. “We have the time.” They do, really, they had escaped the Lawmen quickly and without much trouble. That hadn’t slowed them down a ton. They still have a whole day left.
They can, logically, probably spare the hours this irritating situation is costing them. It still doesn’t feel any better to sit in place like this.
Parrot hums a wordless acknowledgement. Wemmbu taps an anxious rhythm on his knee, opening his mouth and closing it a few times, unsure of how to start what he wants to ask.
“You freaked out pretty bad,” he mentions with a glance off into the distance. Yes, great job, points for nonchalance. Wemmbu wants to mace himself.
Parrot looks at him blankly. “...yeah? I don’t really… remember it, sorry.”
Wemmbu shrugs. “Naturally. The blood loss, y’know.”
Parrot nods. Silence reigns.
“You didn’t…” Parrot speaks suddenly. His voice turns weak, he winces and takes another breath. “I mean. You, uh, didn’t hurt my wings. You could have.”
Wemmbu stares at him but Parrot’s looking off through the trees. Did he know, somehow, about Wemmbu’s previous plan? He curses mentally– of course he did, he’s like, super smart. He opens his mouth to rush out an explanation, but Parrot speaks first.
“I mean… you wouldn’t, right?” He laughs nervously, then his voice drops, like it’s a secret he’s about to reveal. Or maybe it’s just hard to get the words out. He clears his throat, stalling for time on something he’s willingly choosing to say.
“I don’t let anyone touch my wings,” he murmurs. They draw in closer to his back. “I haven’t for months. Not even Theo.”
Wemmbu feels suddenly out of his depth all over again.
“Uhh. Sorry, I guess. But not really ‘cause it saved your life.” Wemmbu raises a brow– sure, Parrot didn’t want him anywhere near his wings, but in such a situation one should choose to ignore that.
“It did… so, thanks.” The smile they share is… awkward, at best.
“And I’m sorry for your identity. For hunting you down when you were invisible,” Parrot adds out of nowhere. “Sorry for, uh– bringing it up again, if it’s a sore subject. I was trying to apologize back at Pirate City, before you uh… hit me off a building.” He huffs out a laugh, unaware of how Wemmbu’s frozen near him.
He must take the quiet as negative, looking back at Wemmbu and shrinking back. “It wasn’t right for me to do, and– and I’ve thought about it a lot, you don’t have to say anything really– I mean, for all I know you might want to kill me for it right now, and that’s– well, I’m not okay with it, but like I get it–”
“I did,” Wemmbu says suddenly, stiffly, unsure why he interjected anything at all. “That’s why I hit you away. I turned to Egg and said we gotta kill this guy.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Wemmbu combs a strand of hair away from his face.
“Okay,” Parrot’s still for a few seconds as he seems to process it, and then he slowly shrugs. “...It makes sense, yeah.”
“I uh… don’t want to anymore. By the way.”
“No, duh.” Parrot says dryly. The snark catches Wemmbu off guard and he just gapes for a second.
“Okay– okay! Well that might change now.”
Parrot laughs. It’s a real laugh, muffled in a snicker before bursting out in volume. “Nah, you used your resources on me! That’d be waste.”
“Bro, a waste? I used bandages and a regen potion! Not even a splash potion! I could rob anyone right now and get better stuff than that.”
“No! Bandages and regen are like, so in demand right now!”
And because Parrot’s pretty smart, and also sometimes sarcastic but sometimes not, Wemmbu cuts off his retort in its tracks to squint hard at Parrot. “Wait, really?”
“Bro.” Parrot’s head is in his hands again.
“Okay– shut up!”
-----
They’re moving again eventually, five minutes after the ten minute reminder, because both of them are nothing if not impatient. Wemmbu types away on his communicator as they go, whispering to Egg. He pops up beside them not two minutes later, and something in Wemmbu relaxes at having his friend near again.
Parrot’s wings are quivering with nervous energy, but acting more lively and well than ever. The bandages still wrap around the bases, but most of the regen has soaked in and acted by now– they’re just added protection, and by the time the two draw close to civilization again, they’ll have been pulled off.
Wemmbu’s faced with the reality of Parrot’s wings now at every turn, and does wonder how he ever thought they were still functional while he was close enough to work on them. They curve naturally at his back, an unfamiliar sight compared to his wing covers, but are just as vibrant as Wemmbu remembers seeing before.
The feathers, though, don’t match on either side. Most of the “longest” are too short or missing. Others hang wrong. Scars lace what flesh is visible.
They are, as Parrot had put, ruined.
They still flutter with nerves as he checks the time, flap to keep his balance as he towers up, and pull in close when he ducks under branches.
They’re so alive, such a real part of him. Wemmbu’s throat closes up at the sudden idea of anything similar happening to Egg. It’s… a terrible thought. Parrot hardly seems affected, but that can’t be the truth.
They travel mostly in comfortable silence.
“We’ll hit the graveyard Coin mentioned tomorrow,” Parrot says as he appears ahead of them. “I spotted it over a hill, way off in the distance. It’s getting late now though.”
It’s true– the moon isn’t peeking over the horizon, it’s hanging above. The stars are bright against a dark sky.
“Or we could keep moving– I mean, smugglers are probably active all the time. No use wasting time, right?” Parrot’s nerves are contagious and Wemmbu finds himself grabbing the avian’s shoulders just to try to calm his fidgeting. He shakes him.
“Parrot, even if that were a good idea in the slightest, you need rest.” He raises an eyebrow as Parrot opens his mouth to protest… and deflates, resigning with a sigh.
“Okay, mom.” He mutters.
They don’t set a campfire. That’d be a death wish. They find a convenient cave, though, and so all move underground away from searching eyes. Parrot has a lantern, dim with colored glass, too dark to be spotted from a distance but enough for their eyes to adjust to.
“Your wings should be checked,” Egg mentions, and he nearly looks ready to bolt from the site again as Parrot blinks at him. “...to make sure they’re actually healing.”
“...right.”
Egg moves a slow hand out but Parrot recoils. Wemmbu sucks in a breath, preparing for the same scene from earlier, but that’s when Parrot’s eyes dart to him.
“Wemmbu?” His eyes are nervous. “Could, uh. Could you?”
Wemmbu’s held breath stutters in his throat. Egg is looking at him with a comical amount of relief.
“Ah, yeah, sure bro.” Nailed it.
Then Parrot’s before him, nearly too anxious to turn around– when he does his wings are tense, trembling, and Wemmbu realizes that though this situation is different, it might not be much easier for Parrot. He’s still scared. ‘I don’t let anyone touch my wings.’
He’s scared, but he’s just that bit less scared with Wemmbu. It feels like an honor. It feels suddenly like something Wemmbu really, really shouldn’t mess up. It’s a moment that means something honest and big and vulnerable.
“Alright, bandages first,” he comments, not sure why he’s narrating. His breath slows until his fingers make contact with the fabric, and he feels a similar shaky exhale from Parrot as he starts to unwind it. Egg fades away into the back of the cave somewhere, wandering off again as Wemmbu starts to work at Parrot’s wings.
He doesn’t rush, but pulls the layers of bandages away until it reveals the injury– or rather, the lack of. Wemmbu leans in a bit, checks closer, but there’s no sign of the wound, no lingering scab beneath feathers. Just some bald areas that should grow back soon thanks to the regeneration potion.
“They look good,” he reports, unable to keep the relieved smile from his voice. And to think, just hours ago he was confessing to nearly killing this guy. Wemmbu feels a bit like tearing up. He doesn’t, but he feels like it.
Wemmbu suddenly realizes he’s paused with his hands on Parrot’s feathers. His first thought is ‘wow, they’re soft’. Nothing as soft as Egg’s wings, but softer than he had realized when he’d only been focused on patching Parrot up. His second thought is ‘shoot'. He pulls back as though burned.
“Sorry.”
“Uh.” Parrot’s shoulders hunch up slightly. “It’s… okay. You’re sure it’s all healed?”
“Yeah. But they kinda look like a mess, bro,” he comments. Parrot breathes a small laugh.
“Yeah. I can’t exactly reach to preen there.”
“Okay… and what’s your excuse for the rest of the wings, then?”
Parrot’s quiet for too long and Wemmbu almost draws back to stand up, starts to think he misstepped. But Parrot’s voice is still friendly when he speaks again, if a little hesitant.
“You know how to preen, yeah?”
“Oh yeah bro, I help Egg like, all the time.”
“Could you?”
“Sorry?”
Parrot seems almost like he wants to take it back, wants to start stuttering an explanation. Instead, he swallows and doubles down. “Could you… help me with my wings, I mean?” It sounds like they’re words he’s unfamiliar with, lingering awkwardly in the air, perhaps ones he never expected to say again.
“Yeah, yeah– yeah, sure.” Wemmbu nods, not that Parrot can see that. He almost smacks himself. “Yeah. Uh, now?”
Parrot’s nodding. Wemmbu takes a breath in.
It’s not too bad once he starts. The feathers aren’t unlike Egg’s, just a little… damaged. The muscle memory of how they slot together helps as his fingers comb through each section. It’s not instant, but he figures it out.
It’s startlingly peaceful. A quiet scene Wemmbu wouldn’t have ever dreamt up himself.
He wants to ask how they got this way, quietly brushing his fingers against a feather that grew crooked and wrong.
“The last person I actually let touch my wings destroyed them,” Parrot murmurs a couple minutes in. Wemmbu swallows his harsh words– it’s the first way he knows how to react, with anger and justice, but something that severe would break through the tranquility of the moment. It’s not worth disrupting it.
Parrot’s shrieks from earlier echo again in his ears. He lets his hands still for a beat before resuming.
Parrot relaxes more after that, muscles loosening as his wings start to angle downward and lose their taut lines. It’s nothing like the bond he and Egg have built– sometimes the angel will drape a whole wing across Wemmbu’s lap as he lies nearby, writing in his book or keeping busy with whatever else Egg does for fun.
It’s a small step. And maybe it won’t ever grow into anything bigger. But Wemmbu is just amazed that he’s reached this far. That he’s, somehow, the one person Parrot’s let near his wings again.
“When?”
“Hmm?”
“I mean.” Wemmbu’s almost done now, just absentmindedly combs through the last few feathers. “How long have I been stupid for?”
“Hey. Your words, not mine, bro.” Parrot chuckles.
“Okay, man.” Wemmbu sounds… fond, even to his own ears.
Wemmbu’s hands fall from Parrot’s wings, but he doesn’t move. Wemmbu gets the idea that he wants to remain facing away while collecting his thoughts. He gets it, it probably feels easier.
“About a year ago,” Parrot starts, “I was gone from the main server for about three months.”
“Oh.”
He doesn’t say, I wish I had noticed. He doesn’t ask where. His chest tightens.
“Was there anything I could have done?”
Parrot is silent for a minute, then another. After a long stretch of silence he shakes his head.
“I got out in the only way I could have.”
Scarred. Flightless. Alive.
“Thanks for your help.” It doesn’t feel like he’s cutting anything off, more like it’s an extension of the moment as Parrot stands and faces Wemmbu with a small, honest smile.
“Yeah, man. ‘course.”
Later, as they all drift into sleep, Wemmbu thinks of how he possibly managed to get on such good terms with someone he’d still been planning the downfall of just 24 hours ago. A protective flame reserved only for his friends lights in his chest at the thought of it. He thinks he wouldn’t trade this trust for the world.