Current Chapter from No’va
“What offf zzzem?” she growled softly.
“They can be…trusted.” Windchester glanced over one shoulder at the group. His words reflected a hint of authority that received a brief nod from the doctor. “I give you my word.”
For a moment their eyes locked in a fierce stare-down. Each weighed their options, gathering a visual in preparation for possible help, or else a deadly battle. Nickademis held his breath when he noticed the harpy’s gaze lower in defeat. She exhaled a ragged breath, which prompted her body to slump almost immediately. Exhausted from pain, she did not bother adjusting the wing from under her.
“I’ll need to move it.” Windchester placed a few fingers gingerly along her upper wing muscles. A slight flinch was the only response. “Is there a name you prefer?”
“Do harpies have names?” someone whispered, but was quickly shushed.
“Everrressst…” The name rolled from her tongue in a slight hiss. Windchester, however, was quick to pick it out amongst the extra syllables.
“Everest, is it?” Windchester was careful when moving the fractured wing. One ear flipped back at the grind of bone against bone. It was a wonder she remained as still as she did, assuming there was nerve damage. Only when he stretched out the entire wing and started to lift it at the flight muscles did she jump slightly. “Ah, there’s our problem.”
“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Phine whispered to Nickademis, who leaned over to reply.
“If the Healer trusts it, then all we can do is wait.”
“A Black Wing, though?”
The doctor shrugged. “See what happens.” His eye caught the mute individual staring with intense interest while the Healer continued to work. Fingers spread along the shoulder blade. A faint, golden glow began to seep from under the palm. His other hand extended toward the tall grass, and the group watched in jaw-dropping awe as great bulks withered and died.
They soon collapsed in a heap of dry, brown ribbons, though ignored by the Healer. The young harpy, however, gurgled a warning growl at the surprising amount of dying plants. Soft words, in a language that only a harpy would understand, reassured her to remain still. Only when the glow beneath Windchester’s palm had faded did he lift his hand away and bade her rise to test her wing.
Hesitant, Everest got to her feet. She stared at the dormant wing a moment, then flicked her gaze to the Healer. He nodded in reassurance. While the men watched, she lifted it with flexing feathers adjusting to the newly developed muscles. Eyes widened in surprise. Then she gave it a good flap. Then again.