Summer spent careful hours cleaning her feathers as she gathered her strength. The harsh sound of her talons against metal feathers soothed her. Though she would've preferred to clean herself beside the cheery waters of a shallow creek, this would have to do. Gradually her hearing returned to her. First the gentle humming of the strange light above her, then the clattering of human machinery further into the building. The pile of blood dust grew at her feet.
The whisper of the trapped air moving through the vent was the key. Summer shuddered, closing her eyes. Concentrating hard, the narrow world of her sixth sense hesitantly opened up before her. She felt the air, memorized the currents. She felt where it brushed lazily against the metal walls, and where it warmed near the false sun. She recognized the world through the ends and beginnings of the wind. But through the vent and past her door, it was just emptiness. She gave herself a headache trying to sense further. Her mastery of her powers must be crippled without her deity's gifts.
Summer opened her eyes, grasping at her concentration as it slipped from her. Her wind sense faded into oblivion, taken over by her sight. Her heart sank into her gut. She was half-blind.
Her kind didn't require practice to master their gift. She had trained under no master. She was created with the affinity, to follow the wind, to learn from it, and to direct it, all as easy as breathing. The loss of her wind sense, she couldn't even imagine the ramifications. How would she fly?
Summer fixed her gaze on the small pile of blood dust. She took a deep breath and crushed her rising panic beneath her talons. My sense is not lost completely, she repeated in her mind. If I have to learn it this time, so be it.
She stared at the reddish-brown powder, willing a breeze to stir the filth from the floor. Summer glared until her eyes itched, then burned, then watered. She huffed out the breath she'd been holding, sending the dust skittering further from her. Maybe that's not the way I'm meant to do it, she thought, grinding her teeth together.
Somewhere far off in the building, someone started screaming. Summer jumped, her feathers ruffling as a shiver ran down her spine. The screams tapered to a sob, then a whimper, and finally, a door clicked shut and the building lay silent. Her concentration lay in pieces as primal fear took over. Her muscles tensed and her blood ran cold as ice when footsteps reached her ears.
Closer, closer. Louder and louder the footsteps became. Two became four, four became more and soon Summer couldn't hear them over the pounding of her heart. Her feet tangled under her as she scrambled to a trembling stand. This would be her reckoning. The humans would finish whatever they had started when they had used that foul magic to put her to sleep.
The door swung open hard enough to bounce off the wall. Summer Storm stumbled backwards, pressing her wings up against the metal wall until it was painful. Three humans swept into the room. The first wore clothes that covered him in one piece, all the color of fire. He moved with just as much fear as she had. The second and third stayed together, both standing in the doorway with an air of confidence. Summer was puzzled by the small metal object held between his clawless hands like a threat. She clenched her fists, claws digging into her palms, praying her physical strength would prove enough to defend herself.
"Don't move!" The guard with the metal piece commanded. The voice was deep, masculine. If Summer could have stopped her quaking, she would've. The fire-clothed human fiddled with something in the corner across from her, and her eyes flickered between him and the guard, unsure which one posed the bigger threat.
"Yes, don't move." The third human's voice flowed like a night breeze. Summer's eyes immediately snapped to him. "Or my dear friend will have to use his gun." He stood a step behind the guard, white linen hanging to his knees. The guard watched her carefully, holding this weapon, but somehow, she felt the biggest threat in the room was the man behind him.
"Sorry, I didn't quite introduce myself," he purred in his basic human tongue. "My name is Doctor Moore." He smiled with teeth that had no fangs. Somehow, that was worse. "What should I call you?"
Summer didn't move a muscle. Her mouth was as dry as the desert skies she flew in what felt like a past life. Even if she wanted to speak, her voice had abandoned her. Her wings started to cramp as she pressed further into the corner. The sound of her feathers grating against the wall was her only response.
"Do you think she understands us?" The guard asked, not moving his gaze from Summer. Silver blood dripped down her knuckles and onto the floor as she squeezed her hands against the wall. The jittery human returned to his masters, hiding behind Doctor Moore and peering out at the mercury blood dribbling from her claws.
The Doctor's grin widened. He ignored the guard's question, rummaging in his coat pocket and producing a small crystal chalice. "Prisoner." Summer shuddered, expecting the worst. She wondered what this gun would do to her. What these humans would do to her now that she was so weak without her siblings or her deity to protect her.
"Take this, and collect its blood for me." The human who reeked of fear reluctantly slipped past the other two humans, carefully taking the crystal chalice from the Doctor's smooth hands as he passed. Their skin never touched. Summer drew in a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come.
Time slowed, or maybe it was the fact that the human was dreading this as much as she was. He dragged his feet across the floor, and approached slowly like she was some wild animal. In reality, they're the savages, Summer thought, fighting the urge to bare her teeth. They had chipped her horns and filed her talons, for what? Their private collection?
When the human was just a claw's length out of her reach, he raised both his hands and crouched down, pinching the crystal between two fingers. Maybe he was afraid she would bite? He moved at a snail's pace now, his muscles tensed and ready to spring at any minute. Maybe he would hurt her.
Her eyes narrowed, trying to figure out the chalice. Would the humans drink her blood? Savages indeed. His breath came in near gasps, and she could hear his frantic heartbeat by the time he finally moved closer. Her mercury blood dribbled along her claws, gathering in the grooves underneath. She had almost stopped bleeding.
She shifted her weight, her filed talons touching the metal wall, and the human leaped back a foot. Doctor Moore started to tap his boot on the concrete floor, and Summer looked up to see his delighted expression, his pale lips commanding his lesser. "Go on, I don't have all day."
Prisoner's sapphire eyes were wide with barely contained fear, and he started whispering under his breath. "Please, please, please, please," he echoed as he sidled closer, close enough she could feel his breath against her skin. Her talons were made to rip flesh from bone, her hands lethal weapons that humans and beasts alike should fear.
Yet, as he reached towards her hand, there was a gentleness that savages shouldn't be capable of. The compassion of beings like her own was not exclusive. These were the humans she had given everything for.
She flinched anyways, and he drew in a breath. She dug her claws into her palms, renewing the tiny rivulets of blood trickling down her knuckles and rushing to meet the floor. This didn't have to be the end. This could be the beginning of an understanding. The human caught a few drops of her blood in the chalice, filling the small container. He seemed to be single-mindedly focused on his task. He capped the container with a lid that smelled of wood and human chemicals. Only then, did he gape up at her with an unreadable look.
The sound of a slow clap resounded throughout the room, and as Summer's eyes snapped to the source, the human stumbled back a step. Doctor Moore grinned ear to ear, his eyes alight. "Well done, well done. Toss it here, will you?" Prisoner straightened, throwing the capped chalice underhand as ordered. It didn't take her gifts to know the pitch was perfect. Even Whirlwind could catch the crystal with her eyes closed, clumsy talons and all.
The crystal shattered on the concrete floor, glass shards sticky with her blood, a shiny silver blotch on the pavement. "Whoops, I'm such a klutz," the Doctor's words held no sincerity, his expression reminding Summer of the crafty Acu creatures, weaving language until no one could find their true intentions buried deep beneath.
"I do need a sample, though," he continued, motioning to Prisoner, who was gritting his teeth and sucking in short breaths. "A feather or two would do nicely." The guard, who had been slowly relaxing, stood at full attention once more, his expression unreadable. Summer's knees trembled. The overwhelming smell of her blood filled her nose, but all she could think about was the human blood she had scraped off her feathers. Was that what had happened?
Prisoner spun back around to face her. Her body tensed, despite the tentative truce they had formed. This was survival. And his master wanted her feathers. He had already taken from her claws. He had filed her talons. He had chipped her horn, Summer thought, her rage growing. He would pay for it.
As Prisoner moved closer once more, her own heart started to beat a wild rhythm against her chest. She unclenched her fists, her talons stained with silver. She didn't want to hurt him. He didn't know, he wasn't responsible. She should warn him, but her voice was dead in her throat. It was all she could do not to flinch away from his touch.
Prisoner hesitated for a moment when his clawless fingertips met the metal of her wings. His mouth hung open. His crouched body leaned against mine as he chose a secondary feather the size of a kitchen knife. Summer wanted to tell him that it was razor sharp on both sides, that he should be careful, but all she could do was tense her wings in preparation for what was to come.
He yanked, and the feather opened a trail of red on his palm. He hissed and cursed, looking back to the Doctor for approval. A prick of pain told Summer he wasn't even close. Blood splashed onto the floor and pooled in his hand, and he shook it off, holding his injured hand in the other. Guilt hammered Summer as he stared up at her, betrayal and pain making his eyes wet. I'm sorry, she wanted to say. I don't like to see your kind hurt.
The Doctor snapped his fingers with impatience that made Summer feel like she was being scorched from the inside out. He enjoyed the suffering of his own kind. Surely he had cruel magic at his fingertips. Something she didn't understand to pluck the feathers without needing fragile human hands. The guard stood at the ready, his own fingers tight around the gun.
The scent of copper overwhelmed her senses as she closed her eyes, reaching out for her wind sense. She tried to find her inner calm as she felt Prisoner grip the feather again. She fought to tame the stale air, but something was wrong. Even with her eyes closed, the sense felt far away, like she was experiencing it through murky water.
He plucked at the feather again, this time nearly bringing tears to her eyes. She flinched, her talons gouging the concrete. She peeled open her eyes to examine his hand, now clenched tight between his legs, blood staining his skin and splattered along her side. He would slice his flesh to the bone before he pried the feather out of her skin.
She lifted her claws to rip out the feather herself.
That is when the truce shattered. The guard twitched, and with a pop and a thunk, something flew at her. Prisoner fell back. In a daze, Summer patted her neck until she felt a strange arrow sticking out of it. Foul human magic. She fixed her gaze on the guard, baring her fangs at the wretched creature. The guard twitched again, but Doctor Moore slapped the gun from his hand, and it popped again. Wherever the little arrow went, Summer had no idea. She really wanted to lie on the floor right now, never mind the blood.
She could hear a lot of yelling, but she couldn't pick up the words anymore. Noises were slowly fading away, darkness closing in on her. If this was the end, it all seemed so peaceful. She stumbled a step forwards, her eyes losing focus and the three humans becoming a blur of motion. Was Prisoner alright?
Summer Storm fought for another step. Her legs crumpled, and her wings ached as she spread them to try to catch herself. She raked her claws against the concrete, anything to keep moving. She closed her useless eyes, reaching for any scrap of her affinity to come to her rescue now.
It was too late. Summer forced open her unseeing eyes and reached forward. "Help me," she finally croaked, right before her consciousness faded. As she fell into the deep dark of her dream-space, no one saw the blood dust from earlier stir in a lazy spiral.