Free Heart Fortune (Celta) by Robin D. Owens

way away.”
    “There are no BirdFams in camp,” the Healer said decidedly.
    “He’s sentient,” Jace insisted. “Can you please look at him? Maybe splint his wing?”
    “Birds are dirty and carry disease,” the Healer said.
    “Lepid, go wake the other Healer. They share the green tent, the one that—”
    Smells like Healers. I know that one! I saw it last night when I explored. I go!
He hopped down and ran out the door.
    “Wait,” the Healer protested. “She didn’t get much sleep last night.”
    “Wonder why,” Jace grumbled.
They’d
had sex and he hadn’t. He felt deprived. “I’m putting the bird down.”
    Carefully, he set the FamBird on the bedsponge table on its uninjured side. “Bird, can I wipe down your chest with a wet cloth—water?”
    The bird struggled a little. Jace stroked his head with his finger. “Steady, you’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
    Breast . . . does . . . not . . . need . . . outside . . . care. I . . . can . . . Heal . . . myself.
Jace hadn’t known that FamBirds could lie so well. Obviously the hawkcel was too much of a predator to allow himself to show weakness. Then he moved slightly, turning his head and Jace saw the gleam in his eye—as if just being away from outside gave the Fam hope. He trusted people for some reason, and for a hawkcel in this area, that was puzzling.
    Wing . . . hurts.
Perhaps not as alpha as Jace thought.
    “I heard that, I think,” said the female Healer, bustling in with a cheerful smile. She glanced at her colleague and snorted. “Your scared-of-animals thing slow you down?”
    “Look at that beak and those claws!” the man protested.
    Lepid followed and hopped back up on the stool, yipped.
HE IS NOT AN ANIMAL! HE IS A BIRD.
    The Healers winced. “And I definitely heard that, FoxFam. Don’t project so loudly,” the woman said, then cooed over the bird, stroking the feathers around the puncture in his breast. “We’ll take care of you.” She touched the wound and Jace sensed her sending Healing Flair into the bird, mending tissues. The avian Fam relaxed a bit more.
    “How did you get hurt?” Jace asked.
    The hawkcel rolled his eye.
Fighting two others for a wounded groundruck. They are tasty. I lost.
    “How come you’re intelligent?”
    We have been intelligent for generations. We have watched the camp and the people. Most humans have good energy.
    “Good morning, Symphyta, Trago, Jace.” Glyssa walked in. She stared at Lepid. “Where have you been? I thought I asked you to stay in the pavilion.”
    Lepid turned his head to Jace.
We went on a walk. We found a wounded BIRDFAM!
    So FoxFams could lie, too. But were damn clever. As Lepid no doubt expected, Glyssa’s attention focused on the hawkcel on the table. “Oh, poor thing.” She used almost the same coo as the female Healer, Symphyta, had.
    The man stalked from behind the table. “Too crowded in this one-table, backwoods, forsaken clinic. I’m getting breakfast, maybe hear some more about those boxes you discovered.” He nodded to Jace. “Much more interesting and lucrative than treating some stupid hawkcel.”
    “I’ll join you,” Jace said, turning for the door opening.
    A screech came from the bird.
NO! My FamMan stays!
    Catching his breath, Jace pivoted back. “FamMan, bird?”
    He clicked his beak.
Yes. I like you. You have nice hands. You are my FamMan.
Another small click.
I need a human to help me.
    Warmth settled around Jace’s heart. Fams were still uncommon and prized and went to nobles first. Usually. He inclined his torso a little. “Honored.”
    The male Healer, Trago, snorted and left.
    “BirdFam, Jace will grasp your wing and hold it out so I can look at the bones that need setting, then place them correctly. You will not bite or claw me,” Symphyta said, gesturing to Jace for him to take the two steps to the table. Glyssa faded back near the stool where her own Fam sat and rubbed his head. Lepid