Mixed Blood

"Sorry," I apologize. "I didn't…." I stop.

The knife she was using was stuck in her leg. I start to sit up as she grabs the knife and pulls it out.

"More mixed blood," she says under her breath.

Rosam Lucis drops the knife in the bucket of water then turns back to the treatment of my leg. I place my hands on her shoulders to get her to stop and treat her leg first, but a stabbing pain shoots through my leg. My hands tighten on her shoulders and I feel her flesh break beneath my claws. I let go once the pain is tolerable again. My claws are covered in blood.

"Rosam Lucis?" I ask.

She didn't scream when my claws pierced her flesh. Her attention remains firm as she wraps the bandage around my leg.

"Rosam Lucis," I try again, reaching for her cheek.

She backs away from my touch, grabbing the cloth from the bucket. She wipes the blood off my fingers and claws. "Lay back," she says, softly. "Rest and let your wounds heal."

"No. You're hurt."

"I'll mend. Lie back."

I let her push me back into the wicker chair, but grab her lower arms to keep her from leaving. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Her blood stains her white shirt and a dark spot soaks through her pant leg. She pulls from my grip disappearing into the bleary darkness where I could not see her anymore. "What happened to leave you this badly wounded?" she asks.

"I was… attacked by the people in the city. They kept calling me names all the while refusing to talk to me. Why would they do that?"

"Because of your wings. You are different enough that…." She groans.

"Rosam Lucis?" I ask, squinting to try and locate her in the darkness.

"I'm fine," she replies in a tight voice. "Your wings set you apart from what is normal here. Anything that is different is considered to be of the devil."

"The devil?" I ask.

"A Human custom. They believe in a god and a devil—ultimate forces of good and evil."

"Does my kind believe this as well?"

Rosam Lucis doesn't respond. I shift in the chair a little and pain bursts through my wings causing me to screech. She rests her hand on my shoulder, feeling cooler than it had just moments before.

"Remain still," she says. "The numbing effects of the herbs are wearing off."

"Okay," I whisper.

"To answer your question. Your kind didn't believe this like the Humans do. The only beliefs your kind had were of dominance and fighting—making other living creatures subservient to their will."

"Did we never have peace?"

"As long as no one tried to rebel against the order of your kind there was a semblance of peace."

Rosam Lucis limps to the table and into the darkness. I hear more things scrape against each other before she reappears and sits at the table to work once more with the things she has gathered. She chops many of these things into small pieces before putting them all into a large bowl. She stands and takes the bowl with her into the darkness. I hear the running of water. She limps to where a large black pot sits on the floor next to the fireplace. She dumps everything from the bowl into the pot before lifting it to hang over the fire. Even before it starts to warm, I can smell the raw meat.

I let my eyes close again. They are heavier now that my wings throb again. I listen to her limp around to clean up. My mind wanders away from the room for a while then I feel her hands slide around my waist and the weight of a blanket settle over my legs. I open my eyes and can tell that Rosam Lucis is exhausted.

"Are you hungry?" she asks, before I can speak.

"Yes." I touch her cheek. "Are you alright?"

"I am."

She turns and swings the pot, on its hook, out of the fire. It smells really good. Rosam Lucis pulls the chair closer to me before filling a bowl and helping me eat it. She fills it a second time. I reach out to take the bowl from her, but she shakes her head.

"You need to eat too," I tell her.

"I will."

She continues to feed me. She feeds me a third bowl before filling a bowl for herself. I study her while she eats. Something is different about her, but what was it? It was more than the bandage around her eyes. When she finishes, Rosam Lucis takes the dishes and returns to the darkness to wash them. I close my eyes and listen to her movements. Just barely audible beneath the sound of water and the tap of dishes against each other is the harshness of forced air. She is crying. I try to get up, but none of my muscles respond and I return to the blessed escape of sleep.

When I wake the next morning, I am coherent enough to accept medicine and food from Rosam Lucis' hand before I sleep again. This happens many times before I wake enough to be accurately conscious of the world around me. It is dark outside. Rosam Lucis enters the house and sets a bundle next to the fireplace. There are tear trails running down her cheeks in the firelight as she hangs up her cloak. There is something wrong with her back. Something was there that had not been before. Slowly and painfully, from the sounds of it, she removes her clothes before lying on her bed to sleep.

I lean forward and push myself out of the chair, ignoring the twinges of pain in my calf and wings. I check the bundle first. The bundle is my pants, mended and ready to wear again. I slip them on, biting back my groan as the pain in my calf and wings increase with the shifting. Then I kneel next to Rosam Lucis' bed. In the firelight, I can see wings. They are short. Where had they come from? Did all Humans develop wings after they came in contact with one of my kind? No, that couldn't be it. Rosam Lucis had lived with one of my kind before and didn't have wings from the encounter.

A small whine escapes her lips and she curls up onto her arms and knees. The wings grow, covering the width of her shoulders before lengthening.

"Rosam Lucis?" I ask. "Why is this happening?"

"Mixed blood," she gasps.

I stand and sit on the edge of the bed. I run my hand across her back then press my fingers deep into the muscles in her shoulders to release the tension being caused by the growth of her wings. As I work the muscles the wings grow faster. Rosam Lucis' sounds of discomfort fall to silence. Her breaths shake as she slowly inhales with the release of my pressure and exhales as I press into the muscles. I work around the wing attachments most and she slowly uncurls and lies still on her stomach. The wings continue to lengthen past her waist, growing faster now that the tension in her muscles is nearly gone.

"You're taking this well," I comment, noting how calm she remains.

"I have experienced similar changes in the past."

The feathers in her wings start to tangle in each other from the quick growth. Carefully, I straighten the shafts, making sure all the barbs remain aligned correctly while the wings continue to grow. I return to working the muscles in her shoulders. All the muscles are loose now, so I pull my hands down lower on her back and work the muscles in her lower back. Despite the attachments being on the back of the shoulders, the bulk of the weight is supported by the middle and lower back.

Rosam Lucis groans softly. A few of the muscles spasm as I dig my fingers into them; she remains silent as I continue to work. The wings continue to lengthen until the tips reach her knees then they stop. I work the muscles in her back a little longer before checking her hip muscles as well. All of them remained relaxed. Rosam Lucis turns her head to look at me and several vertebrae in her neck pop. The remaining tension in her back releases.

"Rosam Lucis?" I ask.

"Yes?"

"Are you going to be alright?"

"Once the muscles get used to the weight, I will be. Are you feeling any better?"

"My wounds still hurt, but it's not too bad."

She nods. "Do you need to eat some more?"

"No. I'll be okay. I'll let you sleep."

"Thank you."

I nod then pull the blanket over her legs and waist before returning to the wicker chair. I let my broken wings rest on the supports just behind the back support of the chair. I watch the fire as I ponder Rosam Lucis and her reaction to the quick and sudden growth of the wings. There was something about her that was different from the others. The calm she exuded while I kept her muscles relaxed so the wings could grow in without causing her pain; the gentle tone of her voice that pushed aside panic and fear—keeping her own pain disguised—and the familiarity of her name. I felt I knew her better than I did; a knowing that my consciousness was unable to grasp at all. Her friend, Alinto, I knew him too despite never having met another of my kind. The house is warm enough to sleep without the blanket. However, I pick it up and pull it up over my shoulders before closing my eyes and trying to get a little more sleep.