Chapter 8 - Aloryk

"So let me get this straight," Polly starts, standing before me with that adorable cocked hip again. "You want me to chew up these leaves-" I nod my head, "-spit it out, and then lodge it all up in that big nasty wound on your wing?"

"Yes."

"With my saliva, and mouth bacteria and all? That doesn't sound hygienic. You don't want my spit on you!"

The side of my mouth curls up. "Yes I do."

One of Polly's brows raises at me, making me wonder what she's thinking. There is a long moment of just Polly and I staring at one another, me with my half-smile, my tail swishing back and forth behind me, and her with her curiously raised brow.

"This plant will ward off infection and aid healing," Tryk says, eyes glancing from me to Polly and then back again. "It is the best we can do without a healer's knowledge." When Polly is still unanswering, he adds, "it will be washed out this next day."

Polly huffs and holds out her hand without looking in either mine or Tryk's direction. "Fine," she concedes. "If it's going to help, I'll do it." The Shadow Wing places a bundle of leaves in her waiting palm and she inspects them briefly before looking up to both of us. "Speaking of washing, shouldn't we wash off these stinky berries?"

To be honest, I think my senses had gotten used to the horrid stench of the frightberries. Although, their pungent aroma had been so strong at first, it had felt like they had stung my nose and burnt away my sense of smell altogether. If that is the case, then it would be a terrible shame that I had not been afforded the time to commit my Polly's scent to memory.

"No, you are still not safe from the mimyckah, or any other creature for that matter. You may bathe when we get you to a village."

I grunt my approval of Tryk's assessment. The jungle is no place for something so precious and soft as my Polly.

Soon, I am knelt with my female at my back. She is quiet back there, and I can only imagine the grotesque wound is stealing her words now that she is faced with it. Glancing up, I see Tryk watching us, his keen eyes assessing Polly and then clashing with my own. He looks away, stoking the fire and focusing on the flames with a stiff set to his jaw.

First, Polly must clean the wound, an act that draws a hiss from me as water from a skin is poured directly upon my injury. Apologies are quick to fly from her mouth and I instantly regret giving away my discomfort. I tell her I am fine, and roll my neck, bracing myself for the next part.

She works quietly at my back, but soon, I can feel the gentle prod of her ministrations. There is much discomfort there, but I do not want her to feel bad for it, so I close my eyes to the pain, and focus on the hand that Polly has absentmindedly rested on my shoulder to brace herself while she works. I know without looking that virtually all my skin-stars are racing towards that touch, as eager as a moonfly for the night.

At some point, I open my eyes and see Tryk watching me with a smirk. I ignore him. He can smirk all he likes. I am the male with a female of my own.

When my Polly is finished, her hand leaves my shoulder and I am left wondering how I can get it back there again. After a moment or two of silence, I feel a little tug on my tail. Twisting to look at my female, I see her brows raised as she indicates with a jerk of her head down to her ankle - her ankle that I have apparently unthinkingly coiled my tail around. Reluctantly, I release her.

Tryk clears his throat. "The leaf will numb the wound site somewhat and will go some way to prevent infection," he says, eyeing Polly as she steps away from me now. "You will have to wash it out this next day. There is a stream barely half a day's walk east of here. Do you feel able to make that journey by yourself, Protector Aloryk?"

I clench my jaw and glare at him. He plans to fly my Polly directly to the tribe. My mind tells me that this is the safest option for my female. It is best to get her out of the jungle as soon as possible. My heart, however, is screaming a battle cry that this other male would fly my female anywhere in my stead.

"And leave him on his own out here?" Polly asks, making me break my stare to look at her again.

The Shadow Wing snorts. "He is no greenmale, and-"

"He is injured!"

Her concern for me makes something light bloom in my chest.

"On swift wings, we can make it to the village in two days, High Spear Rynn will no doubt send out aid for Aloryk, and the remaining females stuck with the mimyckah."

Polly shakes her pretty purple mane. "You want to fly me there?" She worries her lip before shaking her head again. "No. Nuh-uh. I'm too heavy for that. You'll drop me."

Tryk rolls his eyes which stokes an anger in my belly. Thoughts of him dropping my precious female should not be taken so lightly. He opens his mouth to argue, but Polly is faster. "I don't want to fly with you."

"I am strong, I will not drop you-"

"I don't want to fly at all," she interrupts, her voice a lot firmer now. "You're not getting me up there. I'm too heavy. I want to stay with my feet on solid ground, thank you very much."

It is my experience that not many of the human females are particularly fond of taking to the wing, but my Polly seems genuinely afraid.

"You will stay with me," I tell her before turning to Tryk. "You can reach the village faster without carrying a female."

He makes little protest of this, and picks at the meager gathering of food. Before he finally launches into the skies, he leaves me with instruction to make our way to the river and stay upon its banks so he can find us again. I do not mistake the look in his eye just as he kicks up from the ground…

He does not believe I could protect Polly alone.