Noir.

7.

She had started dropping pebbles almost an hour ago, and had made considerate progress. One more hour, and the water would almost reach the brim. Whenever she felt she would faint, she tried remembering her father's face in his last moments, and that kept her going. The boys were staring at her now, too involved in their game, but curious all the same. Some of them threw stones at her, but she simply ignored them, and continued picking and dropping pebbles into the pot. One stone hit her wing, and she felt the pain creeping up to her head, but she clenched her beak and went about her work. The pot was almost full now, and Thana, a thread's breadth close to fainting. She picked the last pebble from the floor, and fell down, her small legs shivering on the scorching pavement. Her eyes kept opening and closing, and blood started to spill from her injured wing. A boy from the group came close to her, observing her for an eternity, and picked her up. He picked her up, and took her close to the pot. He placed her tender beak in the pot, careful not to let the nose drown in the water. The other boys were shouting by now, but the boy just ignored them, and started to wash her injured wing. When he was done, he placed her under the shade of the hut and walked away.