This chapter was inspired by the song 'Wings' by Birdy. (I know, right?) I refer to them as 'birds' here, but I picture them as humanoid creatures with birdlike features. What that means and what that might look like is up to you.

Wings

Matthew walked up to the precipice and looked down. So, so, so far down. He swallowed.

He could see the other birds soaring through the ravine, floating on streams and dancing on drafts. It was strange to be above them but still desperate and clinging to the earth. The rocks cut into his feet.

He ran his fingers over his plumage, picking at the rumpled feathers. He tugged on his useless primaries, slipped through his secondaries, and traced his yellow coverts. Broken. Worthless…

He turned sharply on his heel and stamped away, only to come back to the edge. He was drawn to the open air. He did not want to fall, no, but he wanted to fly. And he could not do one without the other.

He sat down and let his legs trail over the ravine. His feet were sore, they ached with every step. Birds were not meant to walk.

He leaned forward, curling in on himself, and cried into his hands. He had never felt so alone… So helpless…

"Hey."

Matthew sniffled and looked up to find another male hovering over him. His wings were brilliant and blue, tipped with white.

He landed next to Matthew and flopped down beside him.

"H-h-hello…" He stuttered, surprised. He was so high up; no one had been able to hear his cries for help, his screams. He had thought that he would be alone forever and ever and ever.

"What are you doin' up here?"

Matthew nervously clutched at his feathers.

"I… I, uhm… I can't fly."

The other bird frowned and looked him over, probably wondering how a flightless bird had managed to climb so high, so Matthew gestured to his wings and ruffled feathers. His primaries were sticking out at odd angles.

"Oh." He reached to touch them but stopped when Matthew flinched. He thought better of it. "May I?"

Matthew stared at him, at the stranger whose wingspan was so much greater than his, and wondered if he really had a choice. His wings were vulnerable, yes, but so was the situation…

But carding your fingers through another bird's feathers was intimate! It was an exercise in trust. Could he give a stranger that privilege?

"… My name is Matthew," he said after a minute. The other bird blinked.

"… Gilbert."

Matthew studied him. He did not seem like much of a threat, but in his state, everything was a threat. Could he trust him? Should he?

Did he have a choice?

"Here," Matthew sighed, holding out his wing. It was damp and darkened from trailing in the dirt. At least Gilbert was no longer a stranger in the strictest sense.

Gilbert blinked again, cocking an eyebrow, but he took the feathers reverently in his hands. He skimmed his fingers, his claws, over the delicate plumage. It tickled.

"How'd you manage this?" He asked softly, straightening a couple of the feathers. Matthew shivered. He had been groomed before, by family and close friends, but this felt decidingly different. He still felt exposed, but he sort of liked the feeling.

"I fell."

"You fell up? How?!" He laughed, incredulous. " 'Cause you're higher than everyone else. You're almost as high as the Great Lantern."

"Almost."

"… Oh."

Matthew had been trying to reach the Great Lantern, the radiant orb in the sky, when he had fallen. His brother had pushed him, goaded him, even as he had sworn it could never be done. And oh, how Matthew had wanted to prove him wrong…

He had flown up and up and up, except that he had grown tired and weak without a perch to land on. It had not been one of his better landings.

"What are you doing up here, then?"

Gilbert hummed and picked through his feathers.

"It's quiet, y'know? I come here to think."

"Oh. Yes. It is that."

He could not understand why someone would want to be alone. It hurt. He hated it.

Gilbert clucked his tongue and smoothed over his feathers. Matthew buried his face in his folded arms and tried to swallow the low rumbling in his chest, the purring. It felt nice. It felt really, really nice.

He wished that the moment would never end…

But, of course, it did.

"There you go, all done," Gilbert grinned. He ruffled his curls. "You'll be fine."

He stood up and stretched and Matthew watched his muscles tense and flex underneath his skin. He fluttered his wings and ran his hands over the straightened feathers. It looked like everything was in place, brown and cream and yellow lined up in neat little rows.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"No problem."

Matthew peeked over the edge and watched the other birds swoop through the air. If he squinted, he could almost make out his brothers and sisters. And he wanted to go back, he did, but he was still scared.

He did not want to fall.

He must have blanched because Gilbert studied him for another minute before sighing and sitting back down. He leaned against Matthew.

He smelt like warmth and springtime.

"What…?"

Gilbert shrugged.

"I'll wait with you. Until you're ready."

"Ready for what?"

He reached out and held his hand. He did not even bother to ask for permission this time.

"Until you're ready to fly."

Author's Notes:

Oh em gee! Why are all of their conversations so awkward?! Ah, well, it's probably Matthew's first breeding season and he's all twitterpated.

This is a first for me too, but I imagine that Matthew has the plumage of a Pine Siskin, which is a songbird native to Canada and the United States. They are streaked with white and cream and a splash of yellow on their folded wings. Very cute. On the other hand, I would compare Gilbert's feathers to that of a Blue Jay or Jaybird; a mixture of blue and white and black. They are a bit showier, with a crest, and tend to jeer. They have a very… Distinctive call, to say the least. They are quite intelligent and industrious.

No, I do not draw birds in my spare time; I don't know what you're talking about…