Yu fumbled for the long-handled ladle that rested beside the tub. First, he tried to lift it with his arms — failed. Then he got up and tried with his claw — fell over. Then he just shoved his left wing straight into the tub. Yu gasped, as the water flooded over the burns and frostbite. For a moment, the relief was profound — then came the sting, a thousand fire-tipped needles beneath his flesh. His breath hitched, body spasming from the shock, but eventually, the pain dulled to a raw, distant throb.
With his wing submerged, he used his beak to pull out the first of the burnt feathers. Then the next. And then another. It was horrible. His feathers were thick and strong, deeply rooted. He needed to dig deep into the skin to really get the shaft out. The embedded feathers were the worst. Blackened and twisted, they had fused to his skin. The water made it somewhat easier, but not really.
He worked through his whole wing, then used it to slosh water over his chest and side, to continue there. Given that he had at least half of a fina’s flexibility, he reached what he could of his lower back.
Grasp a feather. Squeeze. Twist. Pluck. Pain. Repeat.
It became mechanical, just like preening.
Yu did not care how long it took.
It was not like anyone was waiting for him.
It was not like he ever wanted to go back down again.
Not after they had treated and thrown him out like garbage.
Eventually, there were no more feathers left to pull. Nothing left to do but treat the burns. Yu slathered the salve over his arm first. The scent was sharp and herbal. It was cool but far from soothing, though after a few minutes, when he was still working it into the wounds on his side, Yu believed that the pain in his wing started to dull.
Now what?
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