The silence hung thick around him. He dropped to his rump, coal-coloured feathers bristling, cold horror clenching his dry throat. Blood flowed gently over her alabaster skin and seeped into the plush carpet, he could taste the copper tang of it on the end of his beak.
He had....
Dodo extended a wing, its feathers quivering, but thought better and retracted it. She was dead, he knew she was, there was no way.... But how could he? She had always screamed at him and he had always accepted that and that was the way their relationship worked.... Right?
Much too quiet. He got the odd feeling that he should be doing something, maybe fetching help? No, it wouldn't do any good.... His own body wouldn't obey him, anyway, it certainly hadn't when....
He had....
Panic choked the bird further, he couldn't even remember what had happened. She had been shrieking about something like she always did and he had been frustrated like he always was, and it didn't even matter why. All he could remember was that instant of hating her so much and then the glimpse of terror in her beautiful eyes, the feel of his beak cracking through her skull....
And now she lay before him, terrified stare fixed on nothing at all, the horrible wound in the center of her forehead trickling life fluid, crumpled where she had fallen. It had been instant. She hadn't felt a thing. But how could he have....?!
Not caring what he was doing anymore, Dodo slid trembling wings under her and lifted her. For all her temper and presence, she was so small.... He held the still form close, not minding how she bled still and matted his feathers. How could he...? He hated her sometimes but he still loved her, wasn't that how it had always been? He squeezed tighter, comforted by the weight and presence of his mistress but petrified of her doll-like limpness.
He had killed her.
Tears welled in his glittering eyes, all the feelings breaking inside him. It was so quiet.... He'd give anything to hear her scream at him.
He let out a small, hoarse caw of grief, and wept over her.
He had....
Dodo extended a wing, its feathers quivering, but thought better and retracted it. She was dead, he knew she was, there was no way.... But how could he? She had always screamed at him and he had always accepted that and that was the way their relationship worked.... Right?
Much too quiet. He got the odd feeling that he should be doing something, maybe fetching help? No, it wouldn't do any good.... His own body wouldn't obey him, anyway, it certainly hadn't when....
He had....
Panic choked the bird further, he couldn't even remember what had happened. She had been shrieking about something like she always did and he had been frustrated like he always was, and it didn't even matter why. All he could remember was that instant of hating her so much and then the glimpse of terror in her beautiful eyes, the feel of his beak cracking through her skull....
And now she lay before him, terrified stare fixed on nothing at all, the horrible wound in the center of her forehead trickling life fluid, crumpled where she had fallen. It had been instant. She hadn't felt a thing. But how could he have....?!
Not caring what he was doing anymore, Dodo slid trembling wings under her and lifted her. For all her temper and presence, she was so small.... He held the still form close, not minding how she bled still and matted his feathers. How could he...? He hated her sometimes but he still loved her, wasn't that how it had always been? He squeezed tighter, comforted by the weight and presence of his mistress but petrified of her doll-like limpness.
He had killed her.
Tears welled in his glittering eyes, all the feelings breaking inside him. It was so quiet.... He'd give anything to hear her scream at him.
He let out a small, hoarse caw of grief, and wept over her.
