So Far I Am Not Impressed

The broken wing hurt. Short of being speared through the chest in her last life, it was the worst pain Sera had ever felt. Then she caught an echo of Sister Forty-Six's psychic pain and discovered that was worse. The other woman had curled down into a tiny ball of misery completely at odds with the joyful being Sera had met less than an hour ago.

Gingerly, Sera reached out to the part of her that was Sister Forty-Six, offering comfort if the other woman wanted it. 'I'm sorry.'

Sister Forty-Six curled into Sera, latching onto Sera's mind and trying to burrow inside and hide. It felt odd, but not wrong, so Sera allowed it as she tried to imagine that she was cradling a crying child in her arms. It seemed to work, as a the feel of the other woman's pain went from an agonizing throb to a deep ache.

"Six! No!" Three cried out, cutting through Sera's thoughts. Strong arms went around their joint form, pulling them back from an edge they'd been about to walk over. "You have to take the lifts. This way."

Startled, Sera let Three lead her away from the ledge.

'Sister Forty-Six?' Sera asked 'Do we trust him?'

No response.

"Where are you taking us?" Sera asked Three, not bothering to hide the suspicion in her tone. Three flinched.

"To the infirmary, Honored Traveler," he said formally. "They will . . . " he swallowed hard, looking like he was about to vomit. Closing his eyes he forced himself to finish, "They'll remove her wings and then--"

"WHAT?!" Sera shrieked, wrenching herself out of the man's hold and whirling around to stare at him.

Three couldn't meet her eyes as he said woodenly, "It has to be done. She can't fly with one wing, but she'll keep trying to do it instinctively. Like you just tried to do now. She'll fall and hurt herself. Or worse. It has to be done."

Sera stared at him in disbelief, but there was no hint of a lie in his voice or posture. Though she didn't want to bother the other woman, she prodded Sister Forty-Six. 'Is that true? If we go to the infirmary they'll cut our wings off?'

Sister Forty-Six's only response was a reflexive shudder. Sera took that as an affirmation.

'F*ck that, we're not going,' Sera thought fiercely. She glared at Three, who flinched. He should flinch. It was his fault she was injured--

No, it was Sera's fault. If she hadn't shoved him over the edge of that branch, he wouldn't have fallen. He wouldn't have been so full of fear-driven anger that he attacked them, and Sister Forty-Six's wings would still be intact. She'd still be bouncing joyfully around in Sera's head.

Well, maybe not. She might still have told Three about Sera's presence, and Three might still have called her ugly and stupid. The lance of pain those words had caused had been staggering. Sera had lashed out, Three had attacked them both and now. . . .

Speculating was pointless. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Sera forced her wings to extend. Three paled.

"Six . . . you can't--"

"Tell me what's wrong with our wing," Sera rasped.

"It's broken," Three said, in the tone one used when speaking to an idiot.

"Thank you for that brilliant assessment," Sera said waspishly. "Be specific. Did something tear? Snap? What happened?"

She was gasping by the time she finished speaking, and took a stumbling step forward as her head swam. Three caught her.

"Stop doing this," he said. "You're just hurting Six."

"Not as much as you have," Sera snapped back, and the man blanched. "LOOK."

Calling Sera all sorts of nasty names, Three helped her to kneel so that she wouldn't fall over, then moved around behind to hesitantly inspect Sera's outstretched wings. Eventually he said, "Two of the bones are broken."

"Clean breaks?" Sera asked.

"What?"

"Are the broken ends poking out of the . . ." she floundered, not sure what word to use.

"Membrane," Three supplied, in a voice that sounded slightly off. Deeper. Less . . . self-centered.

"Right, that," Sera gasped. Her body shuddered against the pain.

"No, the bone isn't poking through. They just . . . bend wrong."

"Okay. So they could be pushed back together and splinted," Sera said, and gingerly pulled in her wings. The left one folded in properly, but the right continued to flop wrong.

"You can't splint a wing," Three said as he walked around to crouch down before Sera, shaking his head. "Let's get Six to the infirmary before Six she tries to fly again."

He held out his hands to help Sera to stand again. Sera hesitated a moment, but the pain was worse now than it had been before. Might as well accept his help while he was offering it, and conserve her strength to argue with the doctors.

Three led the way the branch, then turned down a walkway that led to the circular wooden platform. The lift was at the center of the platform. It was suspended from wire cables and had carved wooden panels that came up to waist height and folding shutters on the sides, all of which were open. There was a single long bench in the middle of the lift, occupied by a pair of burly men who hastily got out of the way so that Sera could sit when they saw her trailing wing. They stared at her wing in sympathetic horror.

The lift was not slow, but it was a long way down to the next stop, and the one after that.

It would have taken a long time for Three to hit the ground if Sera and Sister Forty-Six had not caught him. And he would have had no chance at all of surviving.

At the third stop, the burly pair offered to help carry Sera to the infirmary.

"I can walk," Sera said through gritted teeth. She was afraid if she let herself be carried she would pass out and not be able to insist on having the wing splinted. So she pushed herself to her feet and stepped off the lift onto a circular platform that matched the one far above.

This area was much busier than . . . elsewhere. Sera had assumed she was in a small community with only a few dozen people, because she's seen no structures in the trees, and until now only five people. Now she saw that the community was much larger than she'd thought, a large town or maybe even a city. Walkways stretched away in all directions like the spoke of a wheel. Enormous branches--some of them forty or fifty feet wide--supported platforms holding structures of varying sizes, some no bigger than child's treehouse, others boasting multiple stories, balconies, and hundreds of windows.

Focusing on the new world distracted Sera from the pain in her wing, so she allowed herself to gape openly. Men traveled along the branches and walkways, some of them riding creatures for which she had no name that looked a bit equine, with four long limbs, and long muzzles, and eyes on the sides of their head. But they had clawed feet, and feathers. Women flew, mostly following the pathways defined by the branches and walkways. Their wings were brilliant jewel tones and almost eye-searing neon. Skin tones, too, were bright and rich, as was hair. By contrast, clothing tended to be muted colors, or white or tan or gray. Some people wore long dresses or robes, others wore pants and shirts, or vests. Sleeves were a rarity, and mostly transparent. Robes and skirts tended have panels slip all the way up to the top of the thigh. Sandals were popular. Boots like the ones Six wore were not common, and only worn by people--most of them men--carrying weapons of some sort.

The route forward took them along a wide branch that was apparently a market street. There were booths set up at the edges, some of them singing out to summon customers, others not needing to bother since they had customers five or six people deep. Here and there a set of stairs led up to a walkway with larger shops, or a platform where people sat around tables eating and drinking. They had to stop at an intersection while a string of carts pulled by some of the feathered creatures lumbered past and while they waited were entertained by a juggler and musician performing on another platform on one corner.

With as much staring as she did, Sera couldn't fail to notice the flinches and looks of pity she received everyone noticed her broken wing. No one wanted to make eye contact with her, and a few made a gesture that looked very much like an attempt to ward off bad luck. No one spoke to her either.

A pack of boys decided she was a good target for throwing rocks at though, laughing and shouting typical small-boy insults like "ugly hag" and "crippled freak" intermixed with more creative things like, "Did your wings try to escape because they saw how ugly you are?" to "Are you even a girl any more?" Inside Sera, Sister Forty-Six curled even tighter, shuddering as she tried not to hear the insults.

'Do not engage,' Sera told herself sternly. 'Do not sink to their level.' A stone clipped her injured wing and she gasped and stumbled. 'Do not pick them up and throw them over the edge.'

Another stone hit her. Sera lashed out, surprising herself as much as the boy when she managed to grab a handful of neon-blue hair. The boys were startled enough that they just stared, so she grabbed a second one by the ear. Straightening, she lifted her head and looked around. Her wings started to unfurl as her body prepared to launch itself into the air, broken wing and all. She forced herself to pull them back in and her heels thumped back to the ground. Branch. Whatever.

"Who worthless little sh*ts are these?" Sera demanded, powering her voice with all the anger she felt on Sister Forty-Six's behalf as she turned slowly, looking to the faces of a small crowd that was watching her and the boys. A couple of the boys started to sidle away. "I didn't say you could go."

They froze, pinned by her stare. Sera looked back to the adults. "Well? No one knows them? No one wants to admit to raising a bunch of monsters who think it's funny to throw rocks at an injured woman?"

"F*cking ugly woman," someone muttered from inside the crowd, and a few people snickered in agreement. Sera looked down at the boys she was holding and observed, "Well, since no one wants to claim you, no one will care if I throw you over the edge, right?"

The boys screamed and thrashed against her hold, eyes wide with terror. The crowd muttered with displeasure and moved to surround Sera. She let the two boys struggle for a moment before letting them go. They bolted, the rest of the pack close on their heels.

Sera started walking again and found her way barred by several members of the crowd.

"Threatening children is a foul thing to do," one woman said, arms folded across her chest. A group of four or five men and women at her back nodded in agreement.

"Among my people, we have a saying," Sera informed them. "People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones." She waited to see if they would understand, and when they did not explained, "It means people who are morally deficient should not criticize others."

The woman drew in an angry hiss of breath. "I am not--"

"You stood around watching while a pack of boys threw stones at me. An injured woman. Because you think I'm ugly. All of you are clearly lacking a basic understanding of what is right and what is wrong." Sera answered flatly, staring the woman down. "All l did was give those boy a little bit of a scare. In an hour they'll be bullying someone else. Now get out of my way."

No one moved.

"What does she mean, 'her people'?" someone off to the side asked.

"She means she's a Traveler," Three answered. A series of gasps and whispers went through the crowd. The woman in front of Sera flinched.

"Is . . . is that . . . true? You're a Traveler?" she asked warily.

"Yes," Sera answered. More whispers, and many dismayed noises. The woman blocking Sera's way glanced over at Three and apparently saw something convincing in his expression. She squared her shoulders and forced a smile.

"Welcome, Honored Traveler," she said. She stepped aside, the men and woman at her back doing the same, and gave a slight bow. "May your visit with us be a delightful one."

"So far I am not impressed," Sera answered icily, as she stalked past, her broken wing trailing behind.