They’re prey animals, essentially. The Flock is mostly human, but they’re all two percent bird. That has a lot of impacts; more than just the wings, and bones, and healing. It impacts every facet of their psyche. They’re prey animals. They choose flight more than fight. Sometimes they even choose freeze.
Not one of them can help it. Two percent is a marginal change to a human’s DNA. The Flock is just as close to being a bunch of bananas as they are to humans, and every one of them has that thought as they grow older. Especially when Jeb starts the science lessons and tells them that humans share upwards of ninety-eight percent of their DNA with bananas. Jeb had a hard time consoling the ones that thought that was horrifying - Max, Fang, Gaz. He had an even harder time getting the ones that thought it was cool to stop talking about it. Iggy, Nudge, and Angel had made it a game to bring back bananas from every supply run they were allowed to go on, which led to a house-wide banana ban.
Even after Jeb died, bananas were still banned in the house. That’s what Max is thinking about as she stares through her cage doors at Jeb. She’s glad that the rest of the Flock is asleep. She doesn’t want them to know he’s alive. That he’s a traitor.
She spits in his face. For a split second, she sees the true Jeb. The smile falls and anger rises in his eyes. She sees him as a Whitecoat more than the man who rescued her. Max doesn’t want Gaz, or Angel to see that. Nudge had checked out of looking up to Jeb a long time ago, but the fledglings still loved him. Called him Dad. “Fuck you,” The thought of the fledglings keeps her voice down but she has to grit her teeth to keep the volume low.
“Max, that’s not how you talk to me.” He opens her cage door slowly like he’s expecting her to launch at him. She had escaped, once, a long time ago. She had shattered a Whitecoat’s orbital floor, broken her jaw, fractured her skull. Max is sure Jeb remembers that. It was the same day they blinded Iggy. She wants him to remember because she was only eight, then. She’s fourteen now. Lethal.
But they’re prey animals, essentially. Every human instinct to survive is multiplied by the instincts of their bird DNA. Max doesn’t fight, she doesn’t run. She freezes. Her eyes are wide and her breathing slows until she’s stone-still. Jeb reaches his hand in and she tracks it with her eyes. When he pulls her out of the cage, Max doesn’t fight back. He loads her onto a dolly because she won’t walk, and as Jeb wheels her out of the room she catches Fang’s eyes.
Nudge thinks that she’s the oldest for a long time. Well, as much as a four year old can. That’s how old she was when Gaz was brought into the room she’d grown up in, unceremoniously shoved into her cage.
He was only one year old when that happened, chubby and bright-eyed. Nudge remembers his wings were all down feather and how he’d probably leave them all over when he molted for the first time. She remembered that she wasn’t looking forward to it, but now, at eleven years old and tucked away in a house with the rest of her Flock, she keeps one of his downy feathers hidden away in a book.
She’s rather fond of him, probably because of her position as his caretaker until they were moved to be with Max, Fang, and Iggy. For a long time, it was Nudge and Gaz against the world, and she would be lying if she tries to say she doesn’t miss that. Even as he gets older, becomes more independent, and wants to be as grown-up as Max and Fang, and Iggy, he’s still her first friend. The first one she saw that was like her.
Her first flock-mate.
Of course, with Gaz comes Angel. Nudge doesn’t mind Angel, she just tip-toes around her. The mind-reading thing is weird, and she doesn’t like her thoughts not being her own thoughts. After escaping the school, she dove headfirst into being able to own things. She likes having things that are hers. She writes her name in all of the books she pilfers on supply runs. The thought of not even being able to own her own thoughts makes unease settle in her stomach. (Of course, Nudge knows that Angel picks up on that, too. It’s hell.)
But, really, she doesn’t mind Angel. Especially since the girl makes Gaz so happy. They’re the only blood-related siblings and it shows. Gaz and Angel both have light eyes, light skin, and light hair. Nudge doesn’t want to feel jealous, but she’s only eleven. She can’t help it. Not of how they look - no. She’d come to love her dark brown skin, curled hair, and hazel eyes years ago. She’s jealous of their bond. It’s clear to everyone in the Flock that Gaz and Angel are closer to each other than anyone else, and that it’s because they share parents.
Nudge wants that. But also she wants her Gazzy back. He hasn’t let her call him that in years - it’s just Gaz now. It hurts Nudge’s feelings because she named him. She’d given him the name Gazzy. But she doesn’t tell him. She doesn’t tell anyone, not even Max. Despite being called The Nudge Channel - Max and Fang aren’t as slick as they think they are - she doesn’t spill a lot of her feelings.
She sighs and puts the book she was reading back, setting into the window seat that overlooks the canyon that they live on. Max, Fang, and Iggy are no doubt somewhere doing something together, which makes sense. The three of them were together for even longer than Nudge and Gaz were. They spend most of their days planning a supply run, reading to each other, working on some technique that Nudge doesn’t care for.
Sometimes she tries to join them because she’s the fourth oldest and it makes sense, but they always tell her to go play with Gaz and Angel. She doesn’t want to. It feels weird. One of the romance books she loves, that she read until Fang had to fix the spine with duct tape for her, called that weird feeling Third Wheeling. She doesn’t like it. She doesn’t like playing with Gaz and Angel because they’re so protective of each other. In every game, they’re a team and it’s Angel And Gaz Against Nudge.
The feeling is sour in her stomach. She can see Gaz and Angel flying outside - it’s the first warm day of summer and she knows the sun feels amazing on their wings as they fly. They’re playing tag which is a game that Jeb had taught them before he had disappeared. Nudge wishes that they had asked her to play with them, but she knows she would have said no.
She’s in the middle, somewhere between child and teenager, and with no real place in the Flock. Max, Fang, and Iggy think she’s annoying (because she hides her insecurities with incessant chatter) and Gaz wants to spend as much time with his sister as he can. Angel knows that Nudge is hesitant around her and keeps her distance.
Nudge wraps her wings around herself and hopes that the layers of feathers will muffle her soft, mournful crying.
