The human spoke to him as a mother to a nestling. She held his body so firmly he could only move his head. The warm pressure combined with her soft voice calmed him until she picked up a small tool with her other hand and pierced him with it. While he was still in the nest, Duncan had told him about bugs and bees with “stingers” that could poke through skin. Some stingers held bad stuff that made the skin swell and itch. Others drew out blood as well. That’s what this human did with her stinger. He watched the thin tube in her hand fill with a dark red liquid that reminded him of the bluish blood running down the center of Lucas’s feathers. The human removed the stinger and the tube with his blood. He doesn’t remember what came after.

Now he sits in a box looking out on a room thrumming with humans and birds going every which way. It’s so loud and busy out there he’s thankful for his own space and the soft lining in it. He tries to prop himself up without the use of his right leg, which pokes out from his body like a stiff white twig. He can’t feel the white leg It’s like a strange and useless appendage growing from his body. The other leg is as it should be, but he needs two legs to do anything but flop around.

The humans must have done this to him. The white appendage reminds him of the straight white stick they used to tap his beak open. He’d tried to eat the fuzzy, rounded tip, but the mother human pulled it away before he could clamp down. When she finally did feed him, it was through a clear, pointed thing, like a beak but not a beak, that dropped liquid down his throat. He was disappointed not to get worms and insects, but the liquid took the edge off his hunger. He doesn’t remember falling asleep. His dreams brought him back to the river, the water carrying him ever further away from his family. He cried out but there was no sound.

“Ah, you’re finally up where I can see you.” The voice comes from a box across the corner from his. A female crow sticks her beak through the wires and then retracts it. She looks to be between Cloud and Duncan in age, but he can’t see all of her. “I’ve been waiting for someone to talk to. All the other crows have gone in that door.” She sticks her beak through the wires again, pointing toward a door at the back of the room.

“Thank your lucky stars you’re in this part, not in there with the dying birds.”

His confusion must show because she sighs. “Do you remember all the poking and prodding they did to you the day they brought you in? They were testing you to see if you were sick. You’re in this room, so you’re not. Lucky you.”

“I don’t feel lucky.” He shows her his white twig.

“Aw, you just broke your leg. You’ll heal, and then they’ll let you go. Me? I plan to take my time. I don’t want to leave here until this sickness goes away.” She pauses. “I’m called Bree. What’s your name?”

“Worm.”

She snickers. “Cute.”