The Humors A Friend Might Indulge

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Everything had its limit.

Or, as a wise elder once told me, everything had a time to be new, a time to grow familiar, and a time to end.

I could only hope that also applied to the indignities my rider was allowing his mate to visit upon me.

In general, I approved of my rider’s mate. She was good for him. They hadn’t met until both were older (or more mature, as she preferred to primly put it) and my rider’s flying days had been restricted to mostly perfunctory patrols close to home.

It is never fun to have one’s wings clipped, and my rider did not take it well.

And I? I had been powerless to help him. No soaring flights or shared acrobatics, no comforting grooming of his head-feathers, no offers to share food (which usually made him laugh at the very least) could bring him back to himself.

I was nearly beside myself with both worry and confusion.

Luckily, he met his soon-to-be-mate. And, somehow, the near incessant scolding, frequent applications of a spoon to the back of his head, and sharp-edged questions about his work, were just the right air currents to bid him stretch his wings and pull up.

I’d never been so grateful in my life.

So, for the sake of my rider’s smile I endured the all too fragile glass stuck in my beak and for the sake of my gratitude to her I ignored the desire to preen and pull off a damnably scratchy scarf.

But, by flight and feather, if she tried to feed me that tea again, I would send more than books and papers scattering!

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