Page 35 of Forged Flight

Micah glances toward the clock on the wall before turning back to me. “I should probably get going. I’m sure Maple is starving for breakfast by now.”

I nod. “Alright.”

He gives me a sheepish smile. “Thank you again. For everything. For letting me stay here last night.”

“You’re welcome.”

He takes a step toward the door, then hesitates.

“Um…”

I raise an eyebrow. “What?”

He glances down at the beige tunic hanging around his knees. “Do you want this back?”

I shake my head. “I’m not going to make you walk all the way home in your bloody clothes. You can give it back next time I see you.”

Micah’s fingers curl around the hem. “I might never want to give it back.”

I freeze.

A faint blush spreads across his cheeks. “I mean—” He stammers, tugging awkwardly at the sleeve. “Because it’s very warm. That’s all. It’s… comfortable.”

I clear my throat. “Right.”

Micah pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, avoiding my eyes. “Well. Goodbye, Lucan.”

“Goodbye, Doc.”

He slips through the door and closes it behind him.

I stand there for a moment, listening to the echo of his footsteps down the stairs, each one seeming to mimic the helpless pounding of my heart.

Maple seems to have formed a close bond with Micah, like a gosling imprinting on its mother. She follows him everywhere. I watch in amusement as Maple trots around her enclosure, trailing after Micah like a tiny shadow. Her tongue lolls from her mouth, pink and glistening in the late-afternoon sun.

The prosthetics feel lightweight in my arms, the leather stretched thin and smooth like authentic wing webbing. Hollowing out the braces and replacing the steel with aluminum should improve their aerodynamics, reducing the load during flight and making it easier for her to stay airborne. I also adjusted the joints where her stumpy wings will attach, giving her better control over the prosthetics.

I’ve never been a particularly spiritual person, but as we prepare to put the prosthetics on Maple, I send a silent prayer to the moon goddesses.

Please work this time.

“Look, Maple,” Micah says in a sweet, high-pitched voice. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a strip of bacon. “I’ve got your favorite!”

I tilt my head. “She likes bacon?”

Before Micah can answer, Maple’s tail starts wagging, her entire scaly body wiggling with excitement.

“Sit,” Micah says firmly.

To my bewilderment, Maple plops her butt onto the grass, staring up at Micah with wide copper eyes and drool dribbling from her tongue.

I stare at Maple, then back to Micah. “You… taught her tricks?”

“Yes, using positive reinforcement and her favorite food!” He waves a piece of bacon in the air.

I blink. “She’s a dragon.”

Micah flashes me a wide smile. “A very smart dragon.”