Page 29 of Gilded in Blood

"Wait!" Milana grabs my arm, her fingers curling around my wrist before I can take another step. Her eyes are wide with concern. "Don't. It might be hurt. We should help it."

I glance from her to the small bird lying motionless on the concrete. "It's a bird, Milana."

"I know." She looks up at me, her expression earnest. "Please?"

That soft, pleading tone again. The same one that made me follow her out here in the first place. I clench my jaw but nod once.

"Fine."

Relief washes over her face as she hurries to the bird and kneels beside it. It's a sparrow, one wing bent awkwardly beneath it, its tiny chest rising and falling in quick, panicked breaths. She cups it carefully in both hands, whispering softly as though it can understand every word.

"It's okay," she murmurs. "You're safe now."

The bird flutters weakly, trying to pull away.

"It thinks we're predators," I say. And then I find myself saying the words before I can stop them. "What do you need?"

She glances up, surprised. "A small box would help. Maybe a towel and a little water."

I head back inside and return a minute later with everything she'd asked for. By now, she's managed to calm the bird enough to examine it. Her fingers are impossibly gentle as she checks its wing, brushing aside a few ruffled feathers until she finds a small scrape.

"I don't think it's broken," she says with visible relief.

She dampens the corner of the towel and carefully cleans the tiny wound, speaking to the bird the entire time in the same soothing voice.

I crouch beside her, holding the box steady while she settles the bird inside to rest. Our fingers brush for the briefest second. She doesn't seem to notice.

I do.

"How do you know what you're doing?" I ask.

She smiles faintly. "I volunteered at an animal rescue near campus in Manchester. Mostly dogs and cats, but we'd occasionally get birds too."

Of course she did.

Saving people apparently wasn't enough. She had to save animals too.

I lean back against the railing and watch her. She isn't trying to impress me. There isn't anyone else here to witness this. This is simply who she is. She sees something small and helpless, and her first instinct is to protect it.

Where I come from, kindness is a liability. Mercy is exploited. Compassion gets people killed.

But Milana… she’s gentle with this tiny, broken thing like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

It does something dangerous to me. Makes the walls I’ve built feel thinner. Makes me want things I have no business wanting.

After several minutes, the sparrow hops to the edge of the box and gives its wings a tentative flap.

Milana smiles. "I think it's ready."

She carries it to the balcony railing and slowly opens her hands. The bird hesitates for a moment before pushing off into the air. It circles once above us, then disappears between the surrounding buildings.

"I hope it makes it," she says quietly.

"It will."

She turns to me with a warm smile. "Thank you... for helping."

I nod.