It unfurled and squeaked a little as it swayed back and forth, dangling from her hand.
“Oh,” Landon said, his shoulders sinking. “Look, I found him as a fledgling, he lost his wing, and I’ve been trying for years to help him fly. That’s one of his wings. I, uh, probably should have taken that off before coming here, but I wanted him to be comfortable.”
“I see.” Dr. Saft smiled softly, and looked back at her clipboard. “Listen, Landon, I’m going to assume you left the permit for Milford at home, yes?”
Landon’s eyes went wide and he looked over at Leila, and she smiled at him in return.
“Y-yes?” Landon ventured.
“Alright,” Dr. Saft said, making some notes on her clipboard. “Next time he needs an appointment, ask for me, and only me.” She looked up at him, her eyes intense. “I’ll make sure you’re both taken care of. You obviously love this little guy quite a bit. Usually when someone comes in here with an exotic bird or mammal, and they don’t have a permit, the animal is in rough shape or ends up being abandoned here. There’s a reason the Academy of Natural Sciences has three fennec foxes and a capybara.
“Now, the bad news is that we will need to keep him for a few days,” she said, frowning. “The poison is still in his body, it’ll take a day or two before he’s back in action, and even then, he’s certainly going to be disoriented. He’ll probably act like he’s drunk.” She smiled. “I’d like to keep him under observation and care until he can safely leave.”
Landon nodded and then looked down at the leather wing in his hands.
He looked back up at Dr. Saft, and cleared his throat.
“Could you, uh,” he cleared his throat again and sniffled. Leila reached out and put a hand on his arm, and he glanced down at her, tears welling in his eyes. “It’s silly, but can you put this on him once in a while? Please?”
Dr. Saft took the wing and smiled, putting a consoling hand on Landon’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry. I will,” she said. “Feel free to call anytime.” She reached into her white coat and plucked out a business card. “And check up on him. My line is on there. I need to stress, please call only me.” She looked at Leila and Landon intently. “We’re clear on all of this, right? I don’t have to explain anything?”
Leila nodded, and Landon followed suit.
“He’s got a big heart, this one,” Dr. Saft said, nodding at Landon while looking at Leila. “Hold on to him.” Landon looked down at Leila and quickly glanced away, awkwardly, and Leila could feel a bloom of warmth in her face. Dr. Saft winked, and made her way back towards the E.R.
“Wait, Dr. Saft!” Leila exclaimed, taking a step forward. The vet spun around, and looked at her, eyebrows raised. “The owl pellet? With the mouse? Can we have it?”
“Why?” Dr. Saft asked, her eyebrows up.
“The section of the park where Milford ate that mouse is set to be torn down,” Leila said, her heart hammering in her chest, “unless we’re able to prove there’s something special about that place. Supposedly there is an endangered mouse living in the park. That pellet is just what we need.”
Dr. Saft’s mouth twisted up.
“Sure, I guess,” she said, shrugging. “It’s barely recognizable. I’m not sure it’ll help.”
“We’ll take anything. Please.”
“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.” She disappeared into the hospital.
“I like her,” Leila said, turning back to Landon. He turned and looked down at her, smiling, his eyes still shining with old tears.
“Are you okay?” Landon asked, his hand reaching out towards her face. Leila shrunk back and Landon grimaced. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just . . .” His eyes focused on the side of her face, and it was as though Leila could feel his gaze burning into her cheek. She lifted a hand up to the birthmark.
“It’s nothing.” She exhaled. “I think,” she shook her head. “No, it’s crazy.”
“Leila,” Landon said plainly. “Come on. We are past the point where anything—”
“I think I’m changing with the dryads.” Leila choked back what felt like a hard cry at revealing what she’d suspected for the past few days. “Every time something outside gets worse: the birthmark, a little bit of my hair. It’s like I’m fading with the leaves.”
Landon’s eyes grew hard.
“We’ll stop this, Leila,” he said. “I promise.” He softened a little as they walked back over to Sarika in the lobby. “But listen, I haven’t been totally honest with you. Either of you, really. And—”
“What are these from?” Leila interrupted, taking his hand and brushing her thumb over one of the scars. Everything was getting too real, and slipping away. The fading magic. The fading owl. She traced the calloused, bubbly, white-pink scar lines on the top of his hand, a welcome distraction.
“Ah,” Landon said, taking his hand away and looking at the marks. He gave it right back to her with a soft smile. “Some are from Milford, the others are from accidents out in the park. This one is from slipping with a pocket knife while cutting some twine, this one is definitely a Milford claw, this one here is from a fall out of a tree, and cutting my hand on a saw on the way down.”
“Geez,” Leila gasped.
“Yeah, it’s not all easy work.” He grew quiet and squeezed her hand again.
“Leila, look, I have to say something—” he started.
“Oh, just tell her already,” Sarika grumbled, staring at her phone.
“What is with you right now?” Leila snapped. “What’s on there that’s so important?”
“While you two are making kissy faces at one another,” Sarika said, sounding exhausted, “I’ve been looking up reasons a birthmark might spread. Yes, I’ve noticed, even though you weren’t talking about it. I’ve also been trying to organize the message board to come help us out, and fussing with the social media campaign to make it more about endangered animals and less about the buildings and the history.”
She looked up at Landon, her eyes hard.
“But you know about some of that, don’t you, Landon?” she asked. “The campaign? The board?”
“Um, how did you . . .?” Landon muttered, looking back and forth between Leila and Sarika, his eyes wide. “This isn’t how I wanted to bring this up.”
“Landon?” Leila asked, letting go of his hand. “What is it?”
“Look, it’s not that big a deal, but—”
“Milford?” Dr. Saft returned from the E.R. and was awkwardly holding a small, plastic case, a displeased look on her face. The container was transparent, and bits of red and brown speckled with white were visible. Leila grimaced as she stood up and walked towards the vet with Landon, not eager to peek inside the plastic container full of fur and blood and bone.
“Ah, there you are.” Dr. Saft smiled, holding out the bin with a grimace. “Here, please take it. I see plenty of bones and blood and other gross things every day, but owl vomit is just about my limit.”
“Great, great,” Landon said, nodding, the enthusiasm gone from his voice.
“Hey, would it make you feel better,” Dr. Saft looked around the waiting room and then peeked back in the E.R., “if you got to see him really quick?”
Landon’s eyes lit up, and Leila’s heart fluttered.
“Thought so.” Dr. Saft took another peek. “Let’s go.”
Landon grabbed Leila’s hand, and they followed Dr. Saft into the animal E.R. A handful of other veterinarians were walking up and down the hallways, looking busy and harried, with clipboards or medical gadgets in their hands. They gave Leila and Landon quick glances before continuing on their way to whatever they were doing. Surgery on iguanas? Casts on broken guinea pig legs? Exotic animal hospitals seemed like a place where odd things happened.
Dr. Saft looked around and opened the door to a small room where Milford lay, sprawled out on a small, beige table with a blanket over his little body. His good wing hung free over the edge of the table. Fluid dripped gently through an IV line.
Landon let go of Leila’s hand and brought both of his hands up to his face. His eyes watered. He walked up to the table.