Author's Note: Hey all, I completed a couple stories during the early episodes of Volume 3, but hung on for a few months to see if I wanted to post them.
This one follows the style of magical realism. I took some inspiration from Gabriel Garcia Marquez's A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings while crafting parts of this story. I'm not sold by the mayor, though hopefully his role flowed overall.
UPDATE 3/14: Made tiny little edits to finalize the piece. Happy Pi Day.
Blake and Yang were searching among sprigs of grass on an incline in the woods when they saw a creature fall from the sky. It appeared from the over the treetops and rose forward, lurching on disparaged wings until it finally pitched backwards as if shot and plummeted to the earth. There was the sound of snapping branches and the rustle of pine needles that followed. After that, the woods became still. Blake and Yang looked at each other, then ran up the incline as fast as their 10-year-old bodies would go.
The creature was several yards away from the peak, where the ground tapered into a flat terrain. If the girls turned around they would see their village in the valley below. Yang brushed away the hair that had fallen in front of her face to get a clear view of the newcomer. The creature was tangled between two trees in a breaking nest of branches that had piled over each other during its fall. The sharp tang of resin hung in the air. Blake and Yang stared in stunned amazement until the creature moved its head. Blake whispered, "What is it?" so they climbed the tree.
They crouched on one of the lower branches, Yang holding onto the trunk while Blake balanced on the drooping wood. Yang turned to look the creature in the eye, but only saw the two glassy ovals of a green gas mask. The cord connecting to the breathing can wound over one of the creature's gloves, the other hidden under the raggedy strips of its scarf.
"Look at its wings," said Blake.
From a distance they were a wonder, but up close seemed a burden. They were large enough to span the gap between one tree to the next and covered with debris from the fall. The feathers were a faded mottle between red and orange, looking ready to molt at any moment. At some point the wings had become disjointed, one at the bend of the bone and the other close to its shoulder. Again the creature moved, trying to shake loose from the branches.
"I wonder if it's a Faunus," said Blake.
Its jacket, at least, seemed to cushion some of the damage to its torso. It could breathe, though shallowly, the zipper lifting slightly with each inhale. Its pants and boots reminded Yang of the men stationed around their village.
"Maybe it's a soldier," said Yang.
They glanced at each other, and uneasily checked the area. When they didn't hear any footsteps crunching through the undergrowth, they turned their attention back to the phenomenon.
"We should help it," said Blake.
"How?" said Yang.
Blake was already shuffling down the branch, making her way to the fallen canopy and gently brushing the debris from the creature's wings. Yang shifted her foot to the base of the branch and joined them, wiping dirt off her hands before she settled over beside Blake. She started unweaving the branches around the creature until it started to sink. She and Blake leaned back as the canopy started to droop, and with a final papery whisper, the creature slid to the ground.
It was now among the branches scattered around the dirt. The girls jumped off the tree, Blake first, to continue inspecting it. Yang started looking around the nearby bushes as Blake gathered up some of the branches.
"I'll go find it some food," Yang said.
She went to a bush and started picking blackberries. Her eyes darted around the perimeter as she picked the ripest offerings in the stock. A few minutes later the girls returned to the creature under the trees. Blake had shifted some branches behind its head to make a pillow. She motioned to Yang, who shuffled forward to meet it. Yang sensed very keenly the way the creature's head followed her under that tight-fitting mask. Her eyes flicked to it, and the hollow gaze that came back to her made her hesitate.
She stopped by its right wing. A moment passed as the two observed each other. A moment later the creature lowered its head to its chest. Yang felt a twinge of pity for its state, and bent down to offer the blackberries.
The mask only tilted a little, but the creature made a noise—a loud, raspy rattle that pushed against the confined snout. Yang watched as the creature dragged its legs to bend at the knee. Using its elbows as purchase, it sat up to receive Yang's offering. Yang felt the smooth rub of leather brush over her palm as the creature's gloved one hung over it. The fingers closed around the berries and brought them back to the creature's snout. It hunched over so Yang and Blake couldn't see, but when it leaned back down the berries were gone. The whole time its wings had not moved, only drooped pitifully on the ground.
The creature's breaths were mild again, arms crossed on its chest. It appeared to be sleeping. Yang stepped back from the unknown arrival and started surveying the ground again.
"It's not here, Yang," said Blake, this time with a hint of impatience.
They headed toward the village, Yang's feet stepping loudly on every patch of grass they passed. Before leaving the incline they stopped to pick the trees out of their hair. The forest floor became littered with bits of bark and needles as they checked themselves in silence. A minute later Blake leaned over to take out what Yang had missed in her long blond tangles. Yang sifted through the top of Blake's hair but found it picked clean, as usual. The sun was only beginning to lower into the horizon when they snuck past the late afternoon patrol into the west end of the village.
They lived in an isolated area in the valley dip between forest and mountain, mounted with brick-and-mortar homes that fit a population of under 100. Blake and Yang traveled over the uneven cobblestone roads that circled around and through their village. Normally provincial, it was currently tenser than usual. News of oil near the mountain's edge had brought once civil kingdoms to strife. Each royal family had eventually rallied its men to arms, trapping the little dwelling into the middle of their conflict. Since the war was so close, children in the village were not allowed in the forest beyond the roads. Between Blake's parents and Yang's dad working longer hours to provide in the dire time, the two had lots of time to explore. They snuck out for work and play, albeit with some caution, as they quickly grew to fend for themselves.
The village mayor, an aging, cowardly man, had requested a nearby kingdom provide the village with protection in exchange for a remarkable sum. Within days, men in olive suits marched into the square, most friendly but aloof, and all keeping watch for a greater enemy that likely did not have the inclination to plow through the tiny village in the middle of the mountain.
In the new and downgraded economy, good food and medicine became almost a fable. Blake and Yang had asked the mayor, once, on a rare time he was out of his office, why the soldiers were really needed. They were standing just by the village perimeter, plucking the petals off some dandelions they'd found between the dirt cracks in the cobblestone. The mayor nervously adjusted his bow tie and stood up straight.
"In a time where everyone turns against each other, there's no precaution too great," he'd said. The gray wisps on his shortly-shaved head seemed more pronounced as he looked into the forest. "It's best to stick with who we know. But I'm sure you'll be all right," the mayor went on. He peered down at them, good-naturedly, behind spectacles on a nose the villagers had always been considered too big. "You kids know not to wander into trouble, right? Besides, I've deployed military units before and they always did an excellent job protecting us." With that he had nodded, a decisive finish, before walking off to lock himself back up in his office. Blake and Yang had nodded back, turned around, and rolled their eyes.
On this evening, Blake and Yang slipped back in at the boundary's west edge as they always did after they figured out the soldiers' patrol routines. They had cleared the forest off their shoes and were inside their homes an hour before their parents returned from work. Yang went to the kitchen of her barren two-story house and washed her hands. The wood paneling creaked beneath her as she stood on her toes to reach the sink. As she dried her hands with a tablecloth the fridge started to hum, though there was little for it to keep cool. Yang put the cloth down and sank onto the table, looking at the stove that was turned on once a day.
She heated a pot of soup and brought out bowls and spoons from the overhanging cupboard. She also nabbed the container of purple syrup next to the plates. As she ate her share, she pondered the events of the day.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a cough upstairs. Yang slumped, took in a long breath, and picked up the second bowl.
Her little sister was still lying in bed, holding the covers feebly over her chin. The heat of her fever could be felt throughout the room. Yang paused at Ruby's door, watching her struggle for a shallow breath.
Yang sat on the side of the bed and rested the bowl on her knee. The smell of the soup made Ruby's eyelids flutter. Wincing, Yang ran a hand through her hair. The blond put the syrup on the end table by the bed and the bowl under Ruby's lips. The next few minutes passed as she fed Ruby the soup.
"No more," Ruby said. It was barely audible. She sank back under the sheets as Yang swapped the food for the book on the table. She opened it, as she had a million times, and Ruby listened quietly as she tried to breathe something new into the words printed on the page. They had three collections of fairy tales, one thanks to Blake, and this was always Yang's favorite. Her eyes would cast across the beautiful paintings on the pages as she read, and at the last story, her narration would slow so she could marvel on the image of something with colors as soft yet vibrant as a summer evening.
"'The villagers found the red-and-gold flower in a bare patch of woods, and knew without question this was the mystical plant they had so needed,'" Yang recited. The plant on the page lay low to the earth without showing its roots. Its petals curved up then softly down, ending in a fine taper that pointed to the sky. "'Carefully the villagers took home their find and fed it to the princess in her tower. Almost at once the fever left her cheeks, and she sat up renewed and sickless thanks to this miraculous flower.'" Yang looked at the two villagers standing on either side of the princess's bed in wonder and bit her lip. She kept going.
"'In blessing of such a fortune, a beautiful bird with feathers the same as the flower flew overhead the castle. Some of its plumage dislodged into a flurry of harmless fire, and upon reaching the ground a garden grew, turning the once-barren stone castle into a blooming garden of roses. Those who sniffed the roses found themselves inspired with sudden health, and no one in the village ever fell sick again by the desolations that plagued the lands.'"
"I wanna see it," said Ruby, and Yang showed her the bright green leaves that snaked into vines, locking into place around the tower. There were thorns on the vines, but those were overshadowed by the brilliant red flowers that dappled the display. A few more feathers had yet to grow into the earth. The princess stood over it all at the castle's top window, her arms spread to celebrate the gifts. Yang looked at the magnificent bird close to the page's right corner, at the way its wings arced like the golden flower.
"I always liked that story," Ruby said, and with great pain in her heart Yang closed the book. She turned to the wall and bit her lip, trying to breathe away her emotions. She sat Ruby up against the headboard and held the spoon as her sister sipped from the bottle of purple syrup. The medicine was all they could afford at this time, their dad had told Yang, and while some little part of her always hoped it contained a miracle, every night it staved but did not cure.
A few seconds later Ruby finished and exhaled. The deep warmth of illness spread onto Yang's hand. Yang cradled the pillow under Ruby and left the room. An hour later their dad came home from work. Yang took a quick walk around the village, scanning the flowers that sprung from the dirt.
When the girls went back to the woods the next day, the creature was still in poor condition. It could twist its body without pausing, but only did so for brief, necessary adjustments. It was reluctant to leave its branches. Yang stood with Blake meters away, holding an open can of food. There was a spoon inside it, but though she brought it for the fallen enigma, Yang's feet felt rooted to the spot. Her fingers slid absentmindedly around the aluminum.
"Yang," said Blake.
Yang marched to the nest and extended the can. The sweet scent of a scarcity filled the space between the trees. The creature rushed up to take the can, pulling from it a spoonful of baked beans dripping in syrup. It shoved the food under its mask. Yang watched it dip the utensil for another bite and thought of Ruby suffering and feverish in bed, shaking from a pain only she could feel and calling weakly for more to eat. The muffled smacks under the creature's respirator faded into the distance as Yang's mind returned to the crisis in the village.
The three of them had observed the mayor's office, once, before Ruby got sick. Blake had no trouble scaling the tree outside the window while Yang held back to help Ruby up to the branch. They had squeezed onto the concrete ledge below one of the round glass panels, Yang in the middle, and saw a standard-looking office with a desk littered in paper. Two polished wood cabinets stood against the wall behind it, one displaying a bobblehead doll that looked a lot like a soldier in uniform. There were a couple other chairs beside the door leading outside. "That's where he keeps his imaginary bodyguards," Yang had muttered to her sister, pointing at one. Ruby giggled, while Blake rolled her eyes. The soldiers had yet to eat their village economy. They were happy, and later went to the square to play.
A hollow rattle made Yang blink, and she come back to the forest. The spoon had clattered against the can. The creature's frenzy slowed as its mask turned down to the ration. Seeing it empty, the creature slumped and somewhat sheepishly put the can beside its leg. Yang, despite some pity, couldn't help feeling a flash of satisfaction at the sight of the creature's humbling.
Blake came forward to give the creature berries she put on a leaf. As their dependent was preoccupied, they left the nest and started searching for the magic flower.
"How's Ruby?" Blake asked at a bush as Yang patted around on her knees. Yang didn't reply. She shuffled faster down the earth, jaw set tight against the roof of her mouth. Blake knew very well how Ruby was, but had asked anyway to be polite. They prodded among the foliage in silence.
"It's not fair," said Yang a minute later.
Blake backed out from a row of ferns. "What's not fair?"
"Everything." Yang had to think a second before she said it. She ran her hands over the stray grass in the earth. "This stupid war. My dad being at work all day. Not being allowed to leave the village." She sat on the ground, her knees and shorts covered with dirt. Her words started running together. "Never being told what's going on. Having to take care of Ruby all by myself. Spending half our money on medicine that doesn't work. People being paid to guard a town no one cares about. Not knowing where the disease came from. Not knowing if Ruby will be alive the next time I see her." She was sobbing, and buried her face in her knees. Her breaths staggered rapidly, short quick bursts. A few minutes later the tears had all come out, and Yang stopped moving. From the corner of her eye she saw Blake come closer. She pushed her head back against her knees and hunched over.
Blake stood beside her a few moments, then put her hand on Yang's shoulder. Yang exhaled, a long slow breath that drooped her shoulders. Between the broken trees, the creature had lain on its back to rest.
They did not find the flower. They went home.
They returned the next day, more for the creature than themselves. The makeshift nest had them inspired. After feeding their dependent, they spent the afternoon weaving together branches from a pair of trees. Blake tested it when it was done, crossing on nimble feet to see if it was firm enough for them both. She stopped at the middle, arms out for balance, and waited as the branch wobbled up and down. She turned halfway to Yang and beckoned her closer. They lay next to each other on the hammock, their hair tangling softly in the twigs. They looked up to the sunlight slipping through the trees and took in the scent of resin. Their fingers intertwined between the pine needles.
Around 10 minutes later they heard movement below. Yang opened an eye and tilted it toward the forest floor. The creature had gotten to its feet and was shuffling, still with a limp, away from the space between the trees. Molted feathers littered a trail as its wingtips dragged along the ground.
The creature headed to a blackberry bush not far from the clearing and bent over next to it. It returned a few seconds later, turning its faceless head to Yang and holding blackberries in its glove.
Yang sat up. So did Blake, combing the forest out of her hair as she blinked herself awake. "What's going on?" Yang didn't respond, only stared down at the creature reaching out to her. The position of its glassy eyeholes didn't waver. Blake leaned over, fingers dancing off a twig from her bangs.
"I think it likes you," she said, a hint of surprise in her usually measured voice.
Yang groaned on the inside and flopped back down on the hammock. A few seconds later she let go of Blake's hand and jumped to the ground. The creature moved more quickly to meet her, stooping down to give her the berries. Yang took them, not touching the creature's glove.
The creature lowered its arm. Yang looked at the food now in her hand. The berries were thick with summer ripeness, but handled carefully enough to not leave stains on her palm. Yang was surprised by the way they had been picked clean of brambles and wood shavings. She looked back into the creature's false eyes, sensed the real ones behind them focused with anticipation.
She choked down a noise. She nodded, biting her lip. The creature stood back and flicked its fingers forward as a signal for her to eat. A few more feathers fell from its wings.
"It's getting dark," Blake said, and Yang saw she had gotten down beside her. The colors on the ground were fading into a single shadow. Blake waved to the creature, and Yang gave a half-wave, ashamed. She ate the berries one at a time before leaving the clearing. When they turned away, the creature was settling back into its nest.
They trudged down the incline, Blake keeping an eye out for soldiers. "There's one," she hissed, grabbing Yang's hand; pressured for a new route, they tore past the west edge and entered by the mayor's office. The mayor was outside the door, speaking feverishly to a group of privates.
"I don't know why this is up for debate. There are potential threats around this village." The kids were not quick enough. Before they could duck around the building, the mayor saw them. "You two," he said, in confusion, "Why are you out so late in the evening?"
"We were going for a walk around the village," said Yang, standing up straight. Blake nodded in confirmation, wincing as if flicked in the chest. They were about to leave when Yang saw the mayor peer at her behind his glasses.
"Are those twigs?"
She had forgotten to clean the forest from her hair.
Yang inhaled sharply. "No," she said, as the mayor walked closer. "We weren't in—we never—"
"There's a really big tree by my house," Blake said. "We went under it."
"And your house is in the same direction as the woods?" the mayor asked.
Yang felt Blake's fingers clench into her arm. "There's nothing up there," Yang stammered, knowing at once she wouldn't be believed.
"Go into the woods," the mayor commanded his soldiers. "Scour its every inch. These kids are hiding something." The commander, appearing excited to have something to do, waved his men forth from the village. As they marched into the trees, Yang's face twisted into a grimace, then fear as the mayor grabbed her arm. She jerked it back, but Blake whispered into her ear.
"Go with him."
They were locked inside the office, relegated to the two chairs against the wall. The mayor paced in front of them, his chest rising with breaths he could not keep even. Yang thought of the creature being found and rattled her feet, making her chair rock loudly in place. Blake, she noticed, stayed perfectly still, gripping the underside of her seat.
The mayor stopped pacing. He faced them, hands behind his back. "Someone with nothing to hide wouldn't act the way you are. I want to know what it is that you've been doing up there." The floor creaked as the mayor came forward, narrowing of the gap between them. "Why did you steal off into the woods? Are you giving information to an outside party? If you tell the truth, I'll be more lenient with your families' punishment."
"You can't do that!" said Yang. "Who would want something from this place anyway? Come on, Blake, help me," she said, but when she and the mayor both turned to her, she was still staring straight ahead to the file cabinets.
The mayor sighed, his polished boots easing backwards along the floor. He muttered to himself and briefly turned to his desk. Yang flicked her sight to Blake, and with a jolt saw Blake looking back at her. In those seconds of visual contact, Blake gave an almost imperceptible nod high up toward the window they had once looked into with Ruby. Yang had only an instant to process this, as in the next, the mayor had returned.
"We lied," said Yang, before he could say anything. "We were feeding someone in the woods."
"Feeding them?" the mayor said, sounding surprised.
"Yes."
He peered at them in genuine curiosity. "You're not one of the wealthier families, are you? Look at your clothes. It wouldn't be wise to give off rations to a stranger."
Yang bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood. She parted her lips, swallowed the iron, spoke again. "We were helping someone who was hurt," she said. Blake was frozen again, the balls of her feet tilted lightly on the floor. "We came by the last few days."
"What do they look like?" the mayor asked, bending down to Yang's face. Yang leveled her eye contact with him, and once she did, she suddenly realized what Blake had been staring at.
"A lot like the soldier on your file cabinet," Yang said, her tone lilting away in sudden reverence. "Dressed in uniform, but with a mask, and not a weapon."
The seconds passed in horrible heartbeats as the mayor first raised his eyebrow, then scrutinized Yang gazing so earnestly behind him. Slowly, so slowly Yang screamed inside to keep still, the mayor looked over his shoulder at the bobblehead.
In the same moment Blake tore from her seat, sending it to the floor with a terrible crash. The others jumped, but Blake had already pounced off the desk up to the window, which she kicked open to a breeze. She was gone in a flash, and when the mayor whirled to Yang the girl was already on her feet, terrified, but with the sense to grab her chair before running for the door. She flung it open, feeling the mayor's fingers graze her hair, and slammed it shut, whipping around to wedge the chair's back under the doorknob. She did not register the words in the resulting reprimands and cries for help. Instead, scared by the force of the bangs behind the door, she dashed out of the building, and when Blake met her she grabbed Yang by the wrist and yanked them toward the woods.
Adrenaline in their veins, they pounded their way up the incline they were on when they first sighted the creature. That was the day, and now in the night Yang saw from the corner of her eye a golden glow that tapered off the incline's side, so tiny, so enchanting, and hidden low to the earth…
"The flower!" she said, stumbling towards it.
Blake halted a few yards above her, head jerking from Yang to the noises over the peak. Yang unearthed the flower carefully by the roots and held it in front of her face. It looked as lovely as the fairy tale it was in, glowing softly gold and pulsating with an ethereal vein beneath the petals. She stared mesmerized, and felt the privilege of a low hum that radiated in the small space in her palm.
"Yang!" Blake yelled, and Yang came back to the present. She followed Blake to the top of the incline, cradling the flower close to her chest.
They stopped at a distance to take in the scene. The creature's nest had been trampled over, a long trail of feathers leading away from the clearing into the woods. There were silhouettes of the soldiers who'd stayed behind, giving out orders. A couple were climbing on branches to look at the girls' hammock. Blake and Yang knew by the others had dispatched around the area to plan an ambush. They ducked behind a nearby tree.
The sound of something thundering down the earth signaled the next phase. The creature burst into the clearing, flanked on all sides by the remaining soldiers. It met the rest with brandished rifles and jerked to a comical halt. It held an arm by its side, a weak protection. Its wings slurred around the ground. Yang and Blake could hear its wild breathing from where they hid.
"Yang! Yang," Blake pleaded. "You have to give it the flower."
"What? No!" Yang said, her voice pitching. She clutched the plant closer to her chest.
"Yang, it'll die!"
The soldiers were closing in, the scene surreal enough for them to hesitate. Yang's mind flashed to Ruby lying sick in bed, and then the sound of snapping twigs flooded her back to reality. The creature had made one swipe toward a soldier, but toppled as if punched by the very effort. It lay curled on its side as the men rounded in. Yang squeezed her eyes shut, wrenching down a lump in her throat. She barreled toward the noise, the precious flower shining brightly in her arms, and near the clearing opened her eyes to see Blake leap across the trees in a silent shadow. The soldiers yelled, looking up. Yang took in a large breath and darted between the crowd, sliding to a stop on her knees by the creature's head. The military cried out in confusion, recognizing a child. Yang bit back the tears in her eyes and shoved the flower beneath the creature's snout, startling when its hands flew up to shift the petals into its mouth.
There was an eerie stillness, and suddenly the creature sprang to its feet, making all the witnesses jump back. It was tall and healthy in stance, with something else Yang couldn't pinpoint that made it stand anew. The answer became apparent when the creature reared back and its wings burst like rockets into the open. They were no longer dulled and mottled but vibrant and strong, glorious pigments of red and gold visible even in the dark.
The creature lowered its arms. Firmly poised for takeoff, its bulbous masked head settled once more on Yang before it rose off the earth. The force of its wings cracked like a muffled thunderclap. Underbrush was pummeled under the shockwave as the creature ascended five feet at a time, breaking through the trees with its magnificent wings. Branches rained upon the crowd, sending them out of their awe and reverence. The soldiers scattered, but Yang did not. She gazed upon the disappearing creature in wonder at the way each sweep carried it so much farther into the distance. In less than a minute it had disappeared completely. Yang did not look down even as Blake came into the clearing beside her.
As the creature had been vanishing away, a wispy trail had taken its place and was floating toward the forest. As they swayed down the air into better sight, Yang realized they were feathers being left behind.
One fluttered close to her face, and she grabbed it. The quill felt smooth and firm in her hand, the summer plumage painted finely across its hundreds of strands. The feather was almost as long as her arm. Yang didn't tear her gaze from it until she heard Blake gasp beside her. She looked around. A couple of the feathers had touched the earth, and the third, which Yang witnessed on her own, sank into the dirt. There was a muffled churning, then the dirt split as a miniature tree erupted to the surface. The sweet scent of the roses on its vines overpowered the resin from the broken branches. Yang turned back to the incline, her head suddenly clear.
She and Blake crept back into the village, where they were seen in full view. They slunk by the soldiers gathered at the village entrance, weapons lowered and bodies sunk in ease. Blake and Yang felt the soldiers' eyes following them until they passed the mayor, who struggled between the arms of two men, more for pride than freedom. He saw Blake and Yang and his fight grew more fierce only for a second, as the flanking men kept a sturdy hold. Blake and Yang's shoes echoed on the empty cobblestone road as the porch lights outside houses lit for the night.
The darkness inside Yang's windows let them know her father was not yet home. She and Blake walked a few steps to the side of the house, where there was bare dirt. Yang rotated the feather slowly in her fingers. She let go, and it floated to the ground.
Again, a miniature tree appeared. The vines on this one ached with groans as they reached for the house while growing. Within seconds they were latched onto the brick wall, the red petals of the roses beginning to unfurl.
Blake turned away without a word. Yang watched her disappear down the path leading to her home, then walked inside the door of her own. She came back out with a bowl and filled it with dirt. The lowest rose on the tree did not resist when she plucked it from its perch. She placed it in the bowl carefully, and it straightened as its roots sank into the dirt.
The fever was dizzyingly thick, sending Ruby's head halfway under the covers. She was shaking, breath a hoarse sound, heat seeping from her mouth. Her eyes were watery, crusty, and shut. Yang closed the door and approached the bed. She held the bowl a moment longer, lingering upon her shaking sister, before putting it on the table next to the book.
All of a sudden Ruby froze. The sheets rustled as she rolled over toward the table. She sniffed, and then again, and her grip on the blanket lightened. Her breath slowed to an even pace, growing free of stuffiness. With scared hesitation, Yang felt Ruby's forehead. Though hot and clammy, it was not as dangerously heated as before.
Yang picked up the bowl, making it clink. She set it carefully by Ruby, who exhaled in relief. Her arms scooted out to hold the flower close to her face. Yang felt a flutter of liberty in her heart. She sat down at the side of the bed, a half hour before their father came home, and read Ruby their favorite story from the book of fairy tales.