"Hey. Y'alright?" A voice came from above. "Glad ya're awake. What in the world were ya doin' in that desert in the first place?"

Irma rubbed her eyes and squinted, attempting to look up at the individual speaking to her.

"I..." Irma muttered, visibly confused. She could still remember the gritty taste of sand in her mouth and the way her limbs had felt heavy like bags of stone. Now, here she was, resting on a bed with someone looking after her, the soft sheets contrasting the harshness of the desert floor.

"Connel here. Connel Collingwood," the individual replied to the confused young lady with a smile on his face. "You were lyin' in the desert last night, all dehydrated and motionless. I had to get ya outta there."

Regaining some of her strength, Irma sat up and looked at Connel, still slightly confused but grateful that he had rescued her. His bright red crest and the multiple white stripes on his face and neck caught her eye, along with his gray-colored beak. To her, he seemed like the average pileated woodpecker, but she couldn't help but think that something was off about him.

"Thank ya," she managed to say, her voice hoarse but filled with gratitude. "Name's Irma. I thought... I thought I was gonna die out there." The memory of the desert's unforgiving heat and the creeping sense of despair washed over her again.

Connel nodded, his expression turning serious. "You were lucky I found ya. The desert can be merciless, especially if ya're not prepared. I was out there lookin' for some lost gear when I stumbled upon ya."

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, observing her intently. He noticed that one of the most eye-catching features about her was her yellow eyes, which mirrored his own in a way that felt almost uncanny. While looking at her black crest and plumage, he then noticed the white lines extending from her cheeks to her neck, as well as her beige-colored bill.

At that moment, a thought suddenly entered Connel's head. Yellow eyes, black crest, white neck stripes and ivory colored bill... these all matched the description of the ivory-bills.

"Hey, Irma..." he suddenly spoke in a curious tone. "Would ya mind if I asked ya a slightly personal question?"

"Yes, Connel?"

"Are ya perhaps... an ivory-bill?"

Hearing that, Irma immediately sprung up from her bed with a shocked expression on her face, her eyes wide open as she attempted to back towards a wall.

"What... are ya sayin'?" she stammered, trying to mask the flood of terrible memories from Carya Woods being set ablaze that rushed into her mind, sending her into a panic. The crackling of flames, the acrid smell of smoke, and the desperate shrieks of her neighbors echoed in her ears, a haunting reminder of the chaos that had consumed her life.

"Those markings on your neck, yer beige-colored beak... ya're one of those ivory-bills, ain't ya?"

She kept her gaze fixed on Connel, her breath coming in quick gasps. The walls felt like they were closing in, and she could feel the weight of his accusation pressing down on her.

"Please... don't hurt me..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "I was just lookin' for a safe place because... my home was burned down overnight... and... well..." The words tumbled out in a rush, each one laced with desperation. She could feel the tears welling up, threatening to spill over as the memories of that night clawed at her heart.

"Hey, hey..." Connel's voice softened. "I didn't mean to frighten ya. I never wanted to hurt ya in the first place. I just wanted to help out a fellow avian, that's all... and noticin' your markings, well..."

He took a deep breath as he pulled out a towel, dabbing at the beads of sweat that clung to his brow. As he wiped his face, the facade he had been wearing began to fade, revealing the true essence of who he was. Beneath the layers of paint that he had put on his face a while ago, his beige beak glimmered in the dim light, a familiar hue that resonated with Irma's own. The white stripes that adorned his face, once vibrant and bold, were now revealed to be mere strokes of paint, hastily applied to mask his identity. The only marks that remained untouched were the ones on his neck, a stark reminder of the truth he had been hiding.

"You see... I'm an ivory-bill too," he continued, his voice steady yet tinged with vulnerability. "I'm just wearin' a disguise for now because, ya know, people like us are bein' hunted down. No place is safe for us with all those laws made by those shady folks."

His eyes, once filled with a mix of fear and determination, now sparkled with a glimmer of hope. "I know it's hard to trust, especially since ya just met me and all. But I promise ya, I'm not your enemy. I've been on the run, just like you, tryin' to find a way to survive in this world that hates us simply because of those harmful stereotypes. They don't see us as what we truly are; they only see the colors and the markings, the things that make us different."

"Ya're right," Irma replied, "but how are we supposed to do that?"

"Simple," Connel answered, "we just survive for as long as we can without our cover being exposed."

Irma looked over at the tubs of paint placed in the corner of the room.

"And are ya sure this is actually going to work? I have a feelin' that-"

"You won't know unless ya try, Irma," Connel smiled. "I can guarantee that you'll survive as long as ya stay with me."

Irma looked back at Connel, slightly reassured by his words.

"So, what do I need to do in order to continue to stay in ya house? I can help with chores, tidy up your room..."

"Ya don't have to do anythin'," he spoke, extending his hand towards her. "Ya're just another one of the persecuted ivory-bills, just like me. As long as we both live a life disguising ourselves, we'll be fine. I reckon it may be tough for someone like ya at first, but this here is just another chance to show 'em we ain't what they say we are."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. To her, this was a new beginning; a chance to redefine herself away from the burdens of being an ivory-bill.

"So, what do we do now?" she asked, her voice steadier than before.

He smiled, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "We start by makin' this place feel like your home. Is there anythin' that ya need? I can just paint my disguise back on and head to the general store if there's-"

"You- you don't have to do all that!" Irma interrupted, a flustered look on her face. "I don't deserve any of this! I'm just a burden to ya!"

Connel held her hands and looked at Irma with a huge smile on his face.

"Now listen here, Irma. Ya're not a burden at all. I've never seen or met an ivory-bill in ages, and for years, I had given up hope on seein' any living ivory-bill except for myself. Truth be told, I'm mighty glad to have ya by my side."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And I mean every single word that I had just said. You can stay for as long as ya want, as long as ya promise to keep our true identities a secret to the folks out there.

Irma, overjoyed that she had met another individual outside of Carya Woods who accepted her as who she was, immediately hugged Connel.

"Don't ya fret. I'll be in disguise with ya, and no one will know about who we truly are. I promise."