Little Miss Wingless

Melanie watched the hypnotic glow from the enthusiastic fire. The shades of orange and yellow licked greedily at the dried wood it engulfed within the confinement of the stone fireplace. Occasionally it crackled or popped and little floating embers delicately fizzled out. The closeness of the flames left her cheeks flushed warm and her eyelids feeling heavy.

To keep herself awake she shovelled another oddly shaped spoon of warm food into her mouth. Said spoon looked more like a bakeware measuring cup than a tableware utensil. Most of the hefty chunks of boiled vegetables were bitter, but the generously seasoned sauce that accompanied them made them palatable. The wide bowl that withheld the meal was glazed tan and felt rather delicate. Like something usually only grown-ups would be allowed to touch due to the high risk of breakability.

Melanie was dressed dry and snug. The outfit she currently wore was borrowed from Kyro while hers dried by the toasty little fireplace of his bedroom. He was of similar size to her, and the additional thickness of the fabric resulted in a very comfortable fit. She did have to wrap a blanket around her upper body though, to keep the cool from creeping into the vacant wing holes.

Melanie pulled back her long sleeves and carefully placed her dish on a tray next to Kyro’s. While Melanie’s meal was almost depleted, Kyro had barely touched his.

Kyro was securely wrapped in a thick blanket, sitting with his father, who was adjacent to Melanie but still in the vicinity of the fire’s radiance. His face was no longer aghast with trauma. But he did somewhat resemble a wilted flower. The little prince sat with his posture hunched and drooping. His eyes were downcast and somewhat dazed. The bold crimson red they normally were was currently a glazed flat burgundy.

“-Why were you even at the Lanera festival without permission?” King Kerbahn continued to press with the typical tone of a reprimanding parent. He sat behind his son and brushed his almost-dried hair while he scolded Kyro.

“I wasn’t alone,” Kyro replied. “Mel was-”

“-Kyro.” The man interrupted him sternly. “You’re also in trouble for letting Melanie out of holding without permission.”

Melanie innocently twirled a hand through her own light brown hair as she watched King Kerbahn continue to pull the heavily bristled brush in long strides. It flowed easily against Kyro’s eloquently maintained tresses.

Melanie had also pulled her piggy tails free to aid the dying of her hair. But in comparison, her friends’ was obviously much longer and lacked the wispy fly-aways that she had.

“I assure you; I would not have left her there. But there is a process we must follow, for everyone’s safety.” Kerbahn continued. “It’s also for your safety that you cannot just wander around unaccompanied off of castle grounds.

Kyro let out a sigh that was both sad and frustrated. “Tabastian doesn’t need permission to go out or to be accompanied,” he mumbled with a pout.

“Tabastian is double your age. He doesn’t need the same level of protection you do.”

“Because people actually like him,” Kyro added bitterly.

The king sighed. He adjusted how he was sitting on the floor rug, attempting to get a more comfortable angle for grooming Kyro’s hair.

“I like you.” Melanie interrupted with a big grin on her face.

“I know,” Kyro responded with a smile too, his tone less sullen.

“You both could have died today.” Kerbahn threw back at the children, empathising the severity of the recent situation.

“I would have saved him. Saved both of us,” Melanie added confidently, putting her hands on her hips.

Kyro seemed a bit conflicted by the remark.

“Jumping into the lake after Kyro was a very brave act. But also very silly.”

“It’s okay,” Melanie said with a yawn. It was much later into the night now, and her limbs still throbbed from the dramatic incident. Sleep would undoubtedly soon defeat her. “I’m a good swimmer.”

“Are you now?” was the amused response.

“Yep. I’ve had lessons. And my friend was in trouble. So of course I’d help him.”

The look on King Kerbahn’s face was that of fascination.

“Your effort to aid Kyro is immensely appreciated. Of course, it might not have been needed if Kyro had not been so reckless.”

Kyro commenced drooping like a cut hydrangea.

“Regardless, you shall be rewarded for your selflessness.” He told Melanie with a thankful nod.

“No. That’s okay. You shouldn’t help someone just for a reward. Mum always says that.” Melanie answered simply.

“A wise woman.” The king chuckled.

Melanie stifled a giggle as the erzata, Bik, suddenly peeked her big ears out from behind some books on the shelving on the adjacent wall. She zipped out playfully, then disappeared into a different tier of literature.

Bik didn’t reappear, so instead Melanie stared curiously at the different types of hair maintenance products lined up next to Kyro. Brushes, combs, and an assortment of hair accessories. One of them looked more like a scrubbing brush, not like something to put in your hair.

“What’s that one for?” she asked Kerbahn while pointing at it.

“It’s used for stripping dirt out of wings and distributing down powder,” was his answer.

“Why?” She asked.

“To keep them tidy and maintained.”

“So you brush your wings?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. What’s down powder?”

Melanie was suddenly too distracted to listen to the answer as she spotted movement yonder again. She let out another giggle, loudly this time, as Bik’s head popped up from another part of Kyro’s bookcase, then bolted across the floor and scurried up one of the thick window curtains. Kyro laughed too at the spectacle as the little critter dangled by her claws and her fur puffed up.

King Kerbahn was not amused. He got up and unlatched the window. His close proximity to Bik resulted in her pinging about, whizzing over the curtain material at a swift speed like it was a vertical racetrack.

Melanie felt her skin prickle as a chilly gust of wind momentarily whooshed through the exposed frame. The unrestrained strands of Kerbahn’s snowy hair blew backwards along with it.

“Kyro, stop letting wildlife into your room.” He scolded with a sigh as he shooed Bik out. He quickly slammed the window shut again before the creature could scamper back in.

“Bik isn’t wild-” Kyro began to argue, but a rap at the door cut him off.

“-Majesty!? Are you there?” someone followed with an uneasy obstructed shout. “The ground forces are requesting further instruction at the holding cells.”

“Hi Alfalfa!” Melanie yelled obnoxiously through the closed door as she recognised the voice that had accompanied the knock.

King Kerbahn chuckled at Alveeha’s null response to Melanie’s greeting. Amusement gleamed in his deep-set, amber eyes.

He leaned his forehead against Kyro’s. “Please stay in your room. I need to see to this. But I’ll be back soon.” he wearily told his son before he exited, acknowledging the beckoning.

“Your dad is so cool” Melanie shuffled closer and whispered to Kyro as the door shut behind Kerbahn.

You think so?” Kyro asked, surprised, as he partially emerged from the safety of his blanket.

“Yep. My mum would have yelled at me like crazy if she saw what happened today!”

She gently outlined her bracelet, still securely strapped to her wrist, in between her fingers. She liked the feeling of the indentation of embossed letters that spelt out her name. It reminded her that she hadn’t shown the jewellery she’d made to her mother yet. Melanie felt a pang in her chest, but then quickly shoved any thoughts of her mother aside.

“Hey, Kyro? Can I finish doing your hair?” She asked him.

“Yes!” Kyro twirled towards Melanie with enthusiasm, his loud voice surprised her. “Touching it won’t curse you. I promise!”

Melanie blinked. A little confused and taken aback by his response. “Err... Okay.”

She resisted prying into the outburst as she plonked herself behind him. Feeling in her element, Melanie used Kyro’s brush to divide up his hair into three sections so she could braid it. Kyro was quiet as Melanie’s fingers worked, winding and twisting the black strands skilfully.

With his father gone, Kyro’s tension alleviated and his shoulders, along with his wings sagged into a relaxed position.

Melanie couldn’t help but stare at the black bird-like appendages. As her hands finished with Kyro’s heavy braid, they hovered toward his wings, curious to know what they would feel like.

Assuming Melanie had finished, Kyro turned around to face her and they both stared at her elevated hand.

“What are you doing?” He asked sheepishly.

“Oh. Sorry. I just wanted to know what your wings felt like,” she answered him truthfully with a small blush on her cheeks.

“What happened to your wings?” Kyro hesitantly asked in a soft voice, as if he were expecting Melanie’s answer to be a secret.

Melanie shook her head with disappointment. “People don’t have wings where I’m from.”

“No one does?” Kyro asked surprised.

“Nope. Does everyone here have wings?”

Kyro thought about his answer. “All H’traen do, yes.”

Kyro lifted his dark wings, unfolding them to stretch them out to their capacity. Doing so was actually an intimidating display as they loomed over Melanie, making her feel small.

“Cool.” Melanie breathed in awe. Her hand inched towards the black glossy feathers again. “Can you fly really high?”

“No. You’re not allowed to use them until you’re an adult.”

Melanie frowned. “But I haven’t seen any adults flying either.”

“Not everyone can fly. You have to be super strong and train for a long time. Most people can glide though.”

“But why do they all have their wings tied up, if some adults can fly?”

“It’s an outside-only thing. It’s not polite to have them open inside and at events with crowds and stuff.”

“Oh.”

Melanie nervously placed her hand over where Kyro’s largest feathers sprouted outwards. They felt smooth and stiff. Sleek and resilient, like a flexible piece of plastic.

“I thought they would be softer,” she noted as her hand trailed along the direction they grew, also feeling the muscle tendons and bony structure beneath.

“They’re soft in the middle here,” Kyro informed her, pushing against a wing slit of his shirt. He twisted to reveal small fluffy feathers that started against the skin on his back.

Melanie poked the lighter plumage.

Kyro shrieked out a laugh and recoiled.

Melanie grinned at his reaction; a cheeky glint sparkled in her hazel eyes.

“Are you ticklish there?” She taunted, raising both hands and aiming them at the same spot.

Kyro made a run for it. The fear of tickle torture real.