"What the hell are you holding and why is it... wriggling?"
A/N: Akela's about 12.
Summary: Akela saves a bird.
"What the hell are you holding and why is it... wriggling?"
Akela glanced up from peering suspiciously intently at her hands. She was sat with her back against a tree, knees brought up to her chest, and had been that way since Geralt had gone down to the river to wash.
On first sight of him, however, she quickly got up and made her way over to him. "I found a bird," she said. "It couldn't fly so I picked it up. Do you think it's hurt?"
Geralt dropped his clothes on the ground and bent down a little to see. Akela slowly moved her hands apart, revealing what looked to be a baby bluebird hiding beneath her fingers. He could tell already it was injured. One wing was extended, ready to soar, the other was tucked neatly against its back, looking a bit twisted and out of shape.
He hummed. "Looks like it's broken its wing." Akela stood still as he gently took the bird from her hands and held it in his own.
"Can you fix it?"
He and Eskel had nursed a rabbit back to health once when they were boys.
"I can try."
