Chapter 4: Winging It

"So, what is he like?" Zephyr asked excitedly as Petra passed her the mashed potatoes.

"It's too bad he's an old man. I bet he won't even help with the chores," Cole groused, his arms crossed as he leaned back a bit too far on his chair and had to catch himself so that he didn't fall on the floor.

"Serves you right for saying mean things!" Zephyr snickered as Pyrrha gasped and hid her eyes with her hands.

"Settle down, now," Petra said seriously, "You all need to be good role models for the little feathers."

"Don't talk about us like we're not here!" grumbled Nina from the children's table a short ways away.

"Shhhh, Nina!" Velocity said fearfully, "you're gonna make Petra mad!"

"I am not mad," Petra said exasperatedly, "I simply wish to enjoy a quiet meal for once in my life. Our new feather will require a lot of attention the next couple of days, so I need to make sure I eat enough to keep my strength up."

"Don't worry! I'll watch the little feathers with Pyrrha!" Zephyr exclaimed brightly.

"S...sure…o..okay," Pyrrha said shyly, looking over at Cole somewhat expectantly.

"Sorry, but I need to go back to the welding shop in the morning," Cole said with a shrug, "We've been understaffed as it is because Elden has been home sick for the past week and Sethiena is home recovering from having her first child."

"That should be fine, as long as you don't dawdle on your way home," Petra replied.

"Fine," Cole said, rolling his eyes.

Petra tried to look stern but failed when she noticed that Velocity and Nina were copying Cole from behind his back.

"Hey, what are you all laughing about?" Cole said irritably.

"See for yourself!" Zephyr giggled, pointing behind him.

Petra took this opportunity to shove the remaining food on her plate into her mouth and washed it down with the rest of her juice. Then, she turned and went into the kitchen to place her dish in the sink.

"I'm going to bring him some soup and see if the fever's started yet," Petra said briskly, "Cole, it's your turn to do the dishes and it's Pyrrha's turn to dry. You two can sort out cleaning up the dining area yourselves. Zeph, you can start the little feathers with their bedtime routine."

"Yay!" Zephyr exclaimed, "I've got just the story to read tonight! C'mon kids!"

"Wipe your faces and hands!" Petra called out as the children all jumped up and began running after Zephyr as fast as their little legs could carry them. "Ugh. I don't even know why I bother."

"You wouldn't have to if Rakka came back," Cole muttered as he slouched towards the kitchen.

Petra stiffened as she picked up the tray of food.

"I'm going to go back to my quarters, then," she said stiffly, "Pyrrha, if you could please bring some warm towels and a kettle of hot water after you're finished here, I'd really appreciate it."

Pyrrha nodded and began to wring her hands as she looked nervously from Cole to Petra and back again.

"See ya, Petra," Pyrrha squeaked, but Petra had already turned around the corner in the hallway and was gone.

He was so hot that it felt as though he might catch fire, even though he could sense that the air was cool, and the quilt on his body was thin. Then, suddenly, the heat was gone and he was shivering in a clammy cold that made his teeth chatter. His skin itched terribly on his back and he could feel an ache from deep inside of his body as though something was folding out of place on his very bones.

For some reason, the pain seemed familiar, though he couldn't remember clearly where he'd felt it before. Still, he found himself whimpering as he tried to turn and a sharp pain stabbed through his ribcage, instinctively forcing him to curl up tightly into a ball.

He heard her heavy steps before the door opened, which allowed him to close his eyes and pretend to breathe evenly as though he was sleeping. It had been stupid for him to cry earlier. He didn't know why he was crying, after all, just the thought that he'd left something unfinished, that he'd failed. But none of that made any sense.

"Rise and shine! It's time to eat." said the woman...Pet-something?

"Mmmmff," he grumbled, as though she was waking him up. Even though he knew it would be easier if he didn't provoke her, something inside of him still felt spiteful and wanted to make things as difficult as possible for this unknown person. Anger and irritation were far easier than the grief and fear that gripped his chest along with a sense of unending shame.

He sat up just as she brought over the tray and set it down on the table next to his bed.

"I'm Petra, remember? How are you doing?" Petra began, her eyes looking him over like some sort of mother hen,"Do you feel any discomfort from your Hatching?"

"No," he lied. The pain wasn't that bad, after all. He'd probably just strained something while that green-haired kid was dragging him down the stairs from the costume trunk he called a closet.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," Petra said, growing flustered as he stared at her as blankly as possible. "In any case, why don't we talk a bit while you eat."

"I believe that talking with one's mouth full is considered rude, yes?" he said somewhat snarkily.

"W..well, yes," Petra admitted, "Then I'll just tell you a little bit about what's going on while you eat. Is that ok?"

He nodded and picked up the tray, marveling at how heavy it felt in his arms. He sipped his soup and nodded to her to continue.

"Anyway...um...here goes," Petra said, "So, you may have noticed that I have a couple of things about myself that seem different than other human beings. That's because we are not exactly human. We call ourselves haibane. The halo is something that will be given to you later as part of our traditional welcoming ceremony, and our small gray wings...well…"

"Perhaps you are mistaken about me. I do not have wings," he replied flatly between sips.

"Yes, well, that's the thing. They'll probably be growing in soon. Tell me, do you feel sore in your back or shoulder area?"

He went still for a moment and regarded her suspiciously with his dark eyes before nodding curtly.

"Do you mind if I see?" Petra asked, "If it's begun, you'll need to remove your shirt to keep it from getting messy when they break through."

He stared at her, then, and she blushed under his gaze.

"I...if it will make you feel better, I can get one of our open-backed hospital shirts." Petra started to stand up, but he had already pushed the tray onto his legs and was unbuttoning the shirt meticulously. When he'd finished, he pulled it off of each arm and folded it in half before handing it to her, his eyes refusing to meet hers.

"Now, if that is all you need of me, I shall continue eating my meal," he said shortly, grabbing the tray once again.

"If you could lean forward, I'm just going to inspect your back."

He sighed loudly but did as she'd asked.

"Just as I thought. You're going to be Winging soon." She brushed her fingers against what felt like slight lumps protruding from his shoulder blades and he tried not to wince.

"Oh goody," he remarked sarcastically, "I imagine it's painful, isn't it?"

"Yes, but I'll do what I can to make you comfortable."

He simply grunted noncommittally in reply. It wasn't as though he could change what was happening to him, and so he simply focused on the mashed potatoes instead. They were actually quite delicious, and he chewed them slowly, savoring the taste. It was odd knowing what mashed potatoes were, yet not knowing anything about what had happened before he'd broken out of a giant bloody egg and fallen to the floor as naked as a newborn babe.

"I'll prepare the cold compresses," Petra said, standing up and walking back towards the sink at the far end of the room. "I can see that you're not in the mood to talk."

He shrugged even though her back was turned to him and continued eating. Surprisingly, he finished everything off before she returned and placed the empty dishes and tray on the bedside table once again.

"I...I'm c-cold…" was all he could say before his body went rigid and he began to moan in pain, his teeth chattering together violently.

As though from far away, he felt the gentle press of a hand against his forehead.

"You're burning up," Petra said concernedly, her voice echoing as though being spoken from far away.

He blinked but his vision was blurry and refused to clear.

"Hey! Stay with me!" Her voice was urgent but he couldn't bring himself to care.

He was burning up. He was freezing. He was terrified and even though he didn't know why, he felt utterly and bitterly alone.

There was that warm hand again, only this time it was squeezing his shoulder.

The pain pressed down against his back until he could barely breathe, and yet the comforting hand never left his shoulder. The pain and the fever kept him in a nightmarish twilight between sleep and consciousness, but somehow, he felt less alone knowing that someone was there with him.

He felt a sickening burst of pain followed by the sensation of warm wetness running down his back. He blinked rapidly as he vaguely realized that he was somehow no longer lying on his back. Instead, he was leaning forward into his lap, his back bent forward as the skin on his shoulders burned and split.

And then, all at once, the twin points of pain and pressure finally broke free from his body and something stretched outward towards the sky away from him.

The pain was unbearable for a moment, but then it was gone, along with the fever. His last thoughts before he passed out were that his body ached as though it had just run a marathon.

He slept.

Someone was brushing his hair.

He tried to pull away, but he couldn't seem to roll onto his back. Someone was holding onto him. No. Someone was holding onto something behind him. Something that was attached to his back.

His eyes went wide and he tried to pull away in earnest, which earned him two sharp pains in his shoulder blades.

"Ow! Gerroff me!" he hollered, flailing blindly away from whoever was holding him in place.

"Easy! Easy!"

He sat up abruptly and nearly fell off of the narrow bed as the blood rushed to his head.

Familiar arms steadied him and pulled him back from falling onto the floor.

"You're ok! You're safe! Please! Stop!"

He hesitated. The voice was familiar, but he couldn't think of who it was.

"It's me! Petra!"

"What were you doing to me?" He shot an accusing glare at her.

"I was just brushing your wings clean."

"Nonsense! I don't have-" He paused as unfamiliar muscles on his back twitched.

"See for yourself." Petra handed him a small mirror.

He held it up and his eyes widened with surprise. Two gray wings stuck out on either side of his shoulders. The tips were still somewhat coppery in color. He supposed it must be his own blood. The smell of it was still in the air, though it was obvious that Petra had done her best to clean up the mess before he'd awoken. As he focused on the newfound musculature in his back, he found that he could make them flap slightly, though not without twinges of pain when he attempted to do so.

"They're a beautiful charcoal gray," Petra said with a satisfied nod.

He stared at her suspiciously.

"Why are you doing this for me? You barely know me. It's obvious by the bags under your eyes that you've not slept in a long time, either. So...why?"

Petra gave him an odd look and rolled her eyes.

"Don't be so overdramatic," she replied, "I run Old Home. That's my job. I take care of the Little Feathers, and I oversee the other haibane. I've been on point for more than a few Wingings. It's just...that's how it is here. You still have a lot to learn."

Petra started to say more but then she yawned wide despite her obvious attempts to stop it.

"Then...thank you. You should rest. I will be alright on my own," he said softly, refusing to look at her.

"We still haven't settled the point of your name, but I think it might be best to wait until we've gotten your halo sorted out first," Petra said, smiling gently. "Besides, the others will want to be here."

"What do you mean by that? Don't tell me that you're going to draw names from a hat or something stupid like that," he grumbled.

"No, nothing like that," Petra replied with a laugh, "Tell me, though, can you remember your dream? You know, before you hatched?"

"And if I don't want to share it with you?" he replied with a cross expression.

"Well, I guess that if you're going to be that way, I could just come up with a name for you, if you'd like. How about Obstinate Goat?"

He snorted. "Fine. What would you actually name me?"

"Generally, our chosen names have to do with our first dream," Petra explained. "For example, I had a dream of being surrounded by tall stones. I was in the center and there was a voice...someone was singing…well, anyway, so that's what I meant. If I knew what your dream was, then perhaps I could come up with a couple of names that you might like."

"I...fine. I dreamt about...the ocean. I was deep underwater and it was dark. Someone was with me. She had fins and tried to bring me back to the surface, but I was too heavy. I...I couldn't follow where she wanted me to go." He looked pensively at his hands. "So, then, Miss Genius, exactly how would you translate that to a name?"

"I'm not sure," Petra said hesitantly, "but I know someone who would. Are you still tired? I can leave you if you'd like to rest."

"Surprisingly, for a night of fever dreams and...growing wings, apparently, I seem to be completely wide awake," he replied, "So then, can you promise that this friend of yours can give me more information about what I can expect from this place?"

"Well, you're welcome to find a room of your own here once you have the energy to do so," Petra said with a shrug, "It's only your second day here at Old Home, so I don't want you to get overwhelmed."

A muffled giggle made them both turn their heads towards the door.

A girl was standing frozen against the wall as though she'd been caught mid-tiptoe.

"Zephyr! What are you doing in here?" Petra scolded, "I know you can read the sign on the door, so don't pretend it was an accident."

"Pyrrha made me do it!" Zephyr squeaked.

"What?! No I didn't!" came a high-pitched voice from the hallway.

"Yeah, you did! You said that you thought that his wings hadn't broken through yet, but I said that I thought they had!" Zephyr crowed triumphantly.

"Out! Now!" Petra hollered, her eyebrows furrowed with irritation, turning back to the new haibane when Zephyr had slammed the door behind her, "and as for you, I think it's probably best that we get you dressed first, unless you'd like to walk around in that terrible outfit that Cole picked out for you earlier. I've taken the liberty of asking Minami to grab some clothing on her way back from work this morning. I hope you don't mind that I took your measurements while you were dead to the world."

He shrugged, his dark hair falling over his eyes as he looked down at his lap. "It's not like I can tell you to un-measure me."

"I draped everything over the chair in the bathroom. Feel free to get cleaned up and I'll fix you something to eat. When you're ready, we'll head out for a bit."

He looked up at her, his black eyes wary. "Where will we be going?"

"Oh, just my favorite place in the world," Petra said with a wistful smile.

"And where would that be?"

"The library."

His eyes widened at this, but he said nothing.

As Petra closed the door behind her, she could hear him taking a couple of tentative steps before padding to the bathroom.

It was going to be a busy day.