Page 142 of Trove’s Purpose

The healing chamber here was partially open. There were six mediring beds, three on each side of the room, four of which had someone on it, their rings all aglow as they worked on various problems. One male had a gaping wound in his side and was fully asleep as it was being slowly healed. He couldn’t see what was wrong with the other three, including one female, but one of the remaining males kept groaning in pain, holding his stomach.

The healer in charge was a female from a species he had definitely seen before, but not one that he recognized on sight. She had wings, brightly iridescent and large, folding down on her back, pointed to the floor, and was wearing the light green uniform ubiquitously associated with healers.

“Claw restoration?” She said by way of greeting. And when he grunted in confirmation, she held out her hands. “Let me see.”

A twinge of unease twisted in his belly, but Trove forced it down as he offered his hands. This female wasn’t Chee; he didn’t like her touching him. But this wasn’t a sexual touch at all, it was purely clinical as she frowned over his fingers.

“I thought it was just one, maybe two. And these are old. How long has it been since you… lost them?”

“Hard to say,” he admitted, not even sure how old he was anymore. “I was a youngling though.”

She gave him a look that had a clear question in it that he didn’t answer. He kept his silence – she didn’t need to know how they were lost, just how to regrow them.

“Can you do it?” He asked.

She grunted, releasing his hands. “It will take longer, since they’ve been gone so long. I’ll have to reconstruct the entire-”

Trove waved her words away before she could start. “Whatever you got to do.”

She made a sound and gestured to one of the empty beds. “Lay down.”

He did so, swinging his legs up and onto the bed. He once again had to fight to keep himself still as the gently glowing ring came down from the top of the bed. Only one of the three was needed, it hovered around him and the bed, swirling slowly, right at the level of his hands. The healer went to her control console at the front of the room and began working.

At first, he felt nothing. Then, there was a curious tingling, then heat, in the tips of his fingers. It wasn’t painful, but he was aware of the sensations.

Then, he felt something moving.

Trove clenched his jaw, fighting back the urge to look at his hands. To see what was going on. To rip them away before something bad happened.

Because, of course, nothing bad did happen.

The process was slow, but it wasn’t painful. The worst part was just how strange it was. The process was sped up from what would be normal growth. He could feel his claws regrowing. She had only deadened the pain and ache of healing; she hadn’t cut off sensation entirely. So, he was aware the entire time as the hardness of his new claws grew out over his fingers.

All told, he think it took the better part of a full mark for the process to complete. He laid there silently, politely declining when she asked if he wanted to watch something while he waited. He just wanted this to be over. He just wanted it to be done. He just…

He didn’t know what he wanted. He wasn’t sure if he was excited or uneasy. The feelings were so similar, twisting up and strangling him from the inside.

So much so, that when the glow of the ring began to dim, he was choked by the force of emotions he couldn’t quite name.

“You’re done,” the healer announced, the ring floating back to its place at the top of his bed. “Go ahead and give them a try. Make sure everything feels right.

It didn’t. It didn’t feel right. His fingers were heavy. They were uncoordinated. They were-

Whole.

Trove sat up, looking at his hands, staring at them like they were strangers. And they might as well have been. He knew every cut and mark and callous on his hands. But the weight of his claws, the sight of them there…

It was odd.

And still somehow right.

Trove clenched and unclenched his hands. He turned them around and back again, staring at his claws like he had never seen their like before.

Because he hadn’t. Trove’s adult claws had just barely begun to emerge on a few of his fingers. They hadn’t fully grown in when they were removed. He’d never seen them completely grown out, fully hardened, and healed.

They were black, in the way of his people. Thick and pointed, but not sharp. His people’s claws were designed for climbing, not so much for combat. Though they certainly served a role in that, their real, evolutionary purpose was to haul his body up trees. To that end, they were thick and sturdy and strong, but not incredibly sharp.

Though, naturally, that didn’t matter so much if you used enough force. Anything would rip if enough pressure was applied, even on those dull points.