"I'm going after Fang!" I let my wings loose and prepared to take off.

"Max, you can't go anywhere." Sting's hand was on my shoulder.

"Watch me!"

"Oh, my gosh, Max! You're bleeding!" Nudge sounded scared.

"So what?! Fang is gone!" I bled a lot normally; bleeding more wasn't going to make a difference. The voice had been right, and now the clock of his life could be ticking away.

"No, Max, you're bleeding badly. We need help." Keez said, supporting Tonks.

"NO! Fang is GONE!" What was so dang hard to freaking understand?!

I tried to flap, and got dizzy very suddenly. I had to sit on a bale of hay while Iggy ran his fingers over my cut. As it turns out, my wing was cut very deeply. Which was just freaking great.

"Soda, is you're Grandma still in the area?" Keez asked.

"Yeah, man, just down the road."

"Come on guys, load up." He stood, Tonks in his arms. He held her gently, like a mother hold a child.

"We. Have. To. Get. FANG!" I growled.

"Max, you can't go anywhere like this." Sting told me.

"Fine. Just hurry up and get me to a point where I can save Fang!"

I sat in the car, a towel against my wing. We pulled into a long drive to a cozy little country house. Soda led the way and opened the door without knocking.

"Gram! Hey, Gram?"

"Is that Soda?" A gray haired woman looked around the doorframe. She looked at all of us and to Soda. "Oh, good, you brought friends. Come in, come in."

"Thanks, Gram."

For an older lady, his grandma was pretty dang spry.

"Gram, can we use your bathroom, and some ice-packs?"

"Oh, dear, did you meet another gang of boys?"

"Yeah." Soda ruffled his hair sheepishly.

"Oh, I know you, you're like my Robin Hoods. No harm comes out of you, and you protect others less fortunate. Go ahead, dear. I'll make you some sandwiches." She caught sight of Keez carrying Tonks. "What's happened to her?"

"She got hit in the head." Keez's voice was tight.

"Oh, come here, dear, let me get you and ice pack. She isn't bleeding, is she?"

"No, ma'am." Keez went to her, getting help.

"Come on." Soda said. He was taking a flash that I had assumed was filled with water off of his shoulder. "Into the bathroom. Sting, get into Gram's sewing basket and get me a needle. I've got some fishing line here."

"You're going to sew me up with fishing line?" I asked.

"It's all we've got, and your best shot for getting well enough to go get Fang."

"Do it."

We went to the bathroom, and I sat over the bathtub, where Soda opened his flask. A strong alcoholic smell filled the room.

"This is going to hurt, I ain't going to lie. It's gonna hurt like heck."

Dang! It did hurt.

"Shoot! What is that?"

"Wine."

Oh. Dang, wine stings. I could feel some tugging, and a couple of pricks once in a while.

"Done."

"Thanks, man." I stretched out my wing. Yeah, that had done the trick all right. I cautiously flapped. Ah, yes, I could fly now!

"Don't mention it." He glanced out the window. "Max, it's too late to rescue Fang. We'll spend the night here, okay?"

"Fine." I gave a resentful sigh.

Tonks was awake when we got out of the bathroom, and sandwiches were being served. Soda's gran agreed to let us stay for a night, welcoming the company.

I drifted fitfully to sleep that night, images of a bloody, beaten Fang flashing across my eyelids every minute.