Griffith awoke instantly and in tremendous pain. He shrieked and tried to beat his wings as his eyes adjusted, but everything in his body hurt too much. He gazed around at the familiar room, the sterile white palace at the zoosk. He listened to the humans speak soothingly to him and felt them stroke his head and back carefully. His wings were held open by an uncomfortable metal device, and Griffith could see the mangled remnants of his feathers and wing bones. Griffith passed out again.
He was roused back to consciousness by a sharp tic-tic-tic directly in front of him. His shoulders ached as he stretched what his left wing out and--
His entire right wing was gone.
The falcon's eyes dilated and he screeched with his whole body, clawing at the metal surface and beating his left wing about in terror. What had they done?
"Hey, Griffith."
The bird turned his head suddenly. The clicking earlier was the sound of Oswald's claws on the table. The black squirrel moved closer to Griffith and sat back on his haunches. He pointed at the missing wing.
"Looking pretty rough," he grinned.
Griffith nearly laughed despite his agony, and immediately felt better. The squirrel cheered him up.
Oswald looked around at the humans watching this interaction in silent amazement.
Griffith had to ask. "Did you get them?"
Oswald nodded. "Yep, after I woke up. They had to dig you out of the other bird. It was a mess. I need a new tree."
"Thank you."
"No, thank you, Griffith." The squirrel moved closer. "If you hadn't done that, I'd be dead right now. Thank you for looking out for me."
Griffith shrugged with his one good wing. "You did it for me."
Oswald scurried forward and sat next to the big bird. He patted Griffith's wing and held out a nut. Griffith leaned down and took a bite.
The veterinarians could barely breathe.
