Avian reader draping their wings onto sunshower Outis, who's damp from the rain and slightly feverish
you have to haul her indoors. this strange creature, all sodden claws and pointed ears, quivering with chill. set before the fire by careful talons. blankets, blankets- you search for every blanket and quilt, layering them into a stack of warmth. yet it's not enough. the fox still shudders. coughs. sickly, freezing and burning in her anguish. your feathers puff, worried. fretting over a stranger curled amongst your covers and trinkets. determined to help, to bring back life to shallow breaths. without a word, a wing drapes over her back. tucks into a cocoon of downy feathers, warmer than any blanket could ever hope to be. you keep her close- not too close- and her pinched brow gradually eases, tail weakly flopping back and forth
a happy croon bubbles in your throat. good. perfect. you are helping. you set your head in your hands, watching. waiting. claws twitching with the urge to preen her damp hair. no. no touching, not like that. not yet
Outis stirs with a pained hiss, ears pinning back against her head. hurts. everything hurts. her lungs ache, temples spark. heart pulsing too quickly, blood hot and thick. but it's soft here. calm. nothing like the torrential storm outside, the alleyway her broken body once curled in. surrounded by smooth silk, plume after plume wrapped and cradling against her skin. a curious chirp. her tail puffs, gaze snapping up. meeting your own; wide, wondering eyes. you tilt your head with a coo. raising a hand, gently wiping dew from her cheek. Outis' ears flick, tempted to growl. to leap and scratch, biting fiercely. instead, her pupils dilate. leaning into the soft down, clinging to your wings. her fur smooths, tail beginning to thump. slow. steady. then faster. almost delirious
the fox curls into a bird's nest and closes her eyes. fitting perfect and snug, at last, teeth calm and claws sheathed