Forest Mutation (Book Two)

Chapter 39: The Pig and the Rhino

"Diaval, how bad is it?"

Diaval shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. Destiny stands in front of him, her eyebrows furrowed. The other turtles, Casey, April, and Splinter have situated themselves in the pizza place, engaged in their own activities so as to give Diaval what little bit of privacy that they can.

"Diaval," Destiny repeats. "You wouldn't let Splinter touch anywhere but your face and arms. You could have internal bleeding."

Donatello lifts his hand slightly, gaining the attention of both teens. "It's true," he says. "And if that doesn't get checked, you could die."

Diaval blinks once. He glances back up at Destiny, then lets out a slow breath. He lifts himself up just enough for Destiny to reach down and inch his shirt up and over his head, his stance unmoving the entire time. Destiny gasps upon seeing purplish-black bruises mottled with green lining his ribs, and she lowers herself to her knees and lifts the boy's arm up to get a better look. He winces at the movement and she utters a hasty apology.

"Donnie?" Destiny whispers. Diaval tugs away from her grip and his face pales, making Destiny apply gentle pressure to his arm. "He won't touch you, he just needs to help me figure out what's wrong."

Diaval says nothing. Donatello kneels next to Destiny, watching and directing her to prod certain places for him, and he eventually backs off and rises to his feet. Destiny lowers Diaval's arm and the boy curls into himself, wrapping his arms around his torso and aiming his attention to the floor.

"Good news, none of your ribs are broken," Donatello says. "Bad news, they're cracked and bruised and the only thing that you can do to heal is to rest. Mikey?" The orange-masked turtle perks up, pausing his TV show as his brother turns to him. "Can you see if we've got any ice packs in the kitchen? We need to bring down the swelling."

"Right on, bro," he says.

Donatello notices Diaval's hunched position and his eyes widen, his head shaking to and fro rapidly. "No, no, no, don't do that," he scolds, earning a confused look from the boy. Donatello reaches to touch him, stops when Diaval shies away, and he again turns to Destiny. His expression is a mix of helplessness and annoyance. "Des, I need you to handle this."

"Okay," she whispers. She leans up to the turtle, cupping her hand around her mouth. "What is he not supposed to do?"

He tilts his mouth to her wolf ear. "He needs to breathe normally, so constricting his chest like that is bad. He needs to rest and cough occasionally to clear his lungs of mucus."

"If he doesn't?"

"Then he risks getting a chest infection."

"Fair enough. Carry on."

"He should hold a pillow to his chest when he does cough so there's support. Rest is good but he needs to walk around sometimes and take ten slow, deep breaths every hour to help clear the lungs, and...he should try to sleep more upright. You got all that?"

Destiny frowns slightly, backs up, then nods. "I've got the gist of it."

"Yo! I got ice packs!" Michelangelo calls as he returns, a large ice pack hoisted into the air like a trophy.

Destiny snatches it with a quick thank you. She moves to Diaval's side and murmurs to him under her breath, easing his arms away from his torso and aligning the ice packs against his ribs despite his cringing at the coolness.