Jiang opened his eyes because the feathers he no longer had were cold.
The sensation ran beneath the bare skin in branching lines. It stopped at the narrow fringe of surviving plumage, waited there, and pressed against the closed place behind his sight.
"Do not open it yet," Aylin said.
Her hands were busy with the dry cloth beneath him. She lifted one corner, drew it away from damp stone, and replaced it without rolling his chest or trapping the bad leg.
"You cannot see it," Jiang said.
"I can see you trying to argue with something while your beak is still cold."
"That describes most of our acquaintance."
"Then you should know I have practice."
Cairnspire shook under a distant strike. Powder sifted from the scorched shelf roof, but the hollow around Jiang remained dim and sheltered. Vessa had set broken shell slabs across the opening to blunt the light and bridge noise. Gaps between them kept the air moving.
