“so shut up and stay here until i get back.”

The bird lays motionless in her paws, small rib cage racking with every breath. Heartbeat quickening too much and then not; pulse becoming more and more sporadic by the minute. There isn't much time, she knows. There can't be that much luck left. While fleeing into the warehouse -- little-brother-turned-bird in tow, injured paw screaming with each step -- had seemed like a good idea at the moment, her plan had ended exactly then. Run from pursuers here, deposit brother there until she could find the old woman again. She'd never actually anticipated him getting trampled by equipment, or her paw being crushed under a wheel. She'd never thought she'd be a second too late. But here she is, glass-eyed from both the shock and the pain. Trying to pretend this wouldn't be her brother's deathbed.

She speaks first, in the quiet of the air. Her throat purrs uneasily. "I-I'm so --"

"I'm okay," he breathes. "We're okay. I should've listened to you in the first place. Those carts -- those things really pack a punch, don't they? Never thought they were that heavy when we were human." His gaze is more focused than she'd expected when he fixes her with it, clacking his beak, and it takes control not to drop him. He doesn't seem to notice. He lets out a laugh that sounds more like a wheeze. Continues: "At least I reminded that old woman of her grandson, right? That probably kept her from turning us into snails or something."

Damn that old woman. Damn her and her games, her questions, this stupid curse she'd placed on the both of them. Who are they to pay off their parents' debt? Who are they to suffer for some obscure exchange someone else had made in the past? Her feline pupils trail the injured, feathered body of her brother, still holding on. A broken wing, a useless leg, and a fractured rib cage. Probably. This is -- no, she couldn't think like that -- this may seem like his deathbed for now, but he still has time to live. Three days, at most. But they'd already gotten this far. Three days might be just enough.

And she sure as hell isn't about to spend the rest of her life as a cat.

He's opening his beak to speak again; she cuts him off. "I'm going to find her," she growls. "I'm going to find her, and when I do, she's changing everything back to the way it was before this mess. We're going to return home to Auntie safe and sound, we're going to be human again, and I'm getting you that book you wanted."

"So shut up and stay here until I get back."