Arthur's eyes opened. He lay on his back with his large black-feathered wings spread out on the bed underneath him. His bad wing was stiff and numb from sleeping on it, and as he sat up he wondered why he was awake. The clock next to his bed read 5:42, glowing ghostly green. It was still dark outside Arthur's window, and he did need to pee but it wasn't that bad-
Arthur's phone vibrated on his nightstand, giving him a nasty jolt. He snatched up the phone and winced as the bright white screen stung his eyes. The number calling him was unfamiliar, but even as he considered letting it ring, his thumb was already tapping the "answer" button.
"Hello?" Arthur said sleepily. He stretched his good wing behind him, then tried to stretch his bad wing. It was still asleep and prickled vaguely, sagging instead of fully extending.
"Uh...hi. Is Arthur Deepuin available?" said a young, chipper female voice on the other end.
"Speaking," yawned Arthur.
"This is Cyndi from Healing Feather Hospital." The woman's voice took on a hesitant tone that Arthur didn't like. "I have some bad news, I'm afraid."
Arthur immediately thought of his older brother: "Is it Fox? What happened?"
"No," said the woman on the phone. "He's in the next room, though, with the rest of your family. It's your father, Reynard. He passed away about an hour ago."
Arthur's mind went quiet: his father was dead. After a long, awkward pause, Arthur gulped and said the first words that came to his mouth: "Oh...Wow...Great."
"Grief is a complex emotion," said the woman in an understanding tone. "Would you like to speak to Fox? Maybe someone else in your family?"
"No," said Arthur. He noticed that he sounded happy, and a manic little giggle crept into his voice. It felt like it wasn't his.
"When...can you be here?" asked the woman. Arthur took a deep breath; he hadn't been expecting this question.
"I won't. Thank you, Cyndi," Arthur forced out, and was a little impressed with himself for remembering the woman's name. "Have a good day now." Arthur hung up.
Arthur didn't know what to do. His mind was racing: he didn't want to care, but he found himself both happy and a little sad about what he'd just learned and found that he couldn't sit still. He needed to do something, to go somewhere. Anywhere but his apartment, or Healing Feather Hospital.
Slipping on his sandals, Arthur rushed to his apartment's front door and wrenched it open. He didn't notice that his bad wing was still sagging until he shut the door on it with a muffled crunch-
Arthur jolted awake with a twinge of pain in his bad wing, still smarting from the dream. His face was buried in a fine fluff of downy blue feathers: he'd fallen asleep nuzzling into the crook of Digitalis's shoulder near the base of his wings. Some of the fluff had gone up Arthur's nose, and he sat up slowly, fighting an urge to sneeze.
Digitalis was asleep next to Arthur, with his arm draped over Arthur's waist, sliding off as Arthur shifted. Digitalis's blue hair stood out against his pale skin, and almost blended into his wings, large and bluejay-like and pulled neatly up against his back. He was shirtless with his flannel pants, only half-covered under the duvet. The clock on Digitalis's side of the bed read 07:26, and Arthur stared at it for a few seconds, combing his fingers through his waist-length dark hair. He'd forgotten to braid it the night before and it had come out of his hair tie while he slept.
"What's up Bear?" Digitalis yawned, stretching and opening one pupilless amber eye. Arthur tried to stretch, and another jolt of pain shot through his wing.
"Just my wing," Arthur grunted. Digitalis sat up and examined Arthur, running his fingers gently through the sleek black feathers.
"It feels a little swollen. I have an ice pack for wings if you'd like to use it," Digitalis said sleepily.
