By the third week of Jiang's fast, Bracken was still lying across Harrow's flight straps.
Snow had replaced rain along the highest Red Aeries ledges. It gathered on the cold hide over Harrow and melted wherever Bracken's pale breast touched the cloth.
Rill came every morning with Slate.
Bracken showed him teeth every morning.
"Harrow waited longer for me to learn a crosswind," Rill said on the nineteenth day. "I can wait longer than you can threaten."
Bracken put his head back down over the straps.
Slate stood behind Rill in a new low harness. The torn flank had closed into a dark ridge beneath his feathers, though the wing on that side still opened more carefully than the other. Leather crossed his chest and back without a homebell rail. The repaired rescue net hung folded between the rear posts.
