29. Helena
Helena
“HEY!” Helena yelled.
She didn’t even think; she just acted.
Her horror at seeing Bertram in danger of being harmed quickly flipped in on itself and turned into horror that the baby owl-bear could have been harmed . . . and not only that but harmed by Helena herself.
“Oh, my goodness, are you okay?” Helena asked. She sank to her knees in front of the prone baby owl-bear.
“Helena, careful!” Bertram said. He ripped the owl-bear mask off his face as Helena crept toward the cub-chick.
“I’ll be fine; she’s not even moving!” Helena extended her hand toward the baby, praying that she hadn’t knocked the cub-chick unconscious . . . or worse.
The owl-bear cub-chick slowly opened her eyes and blinked. Helena breathed a slight sigh of relief.
“I’m going to check you for injuries,” Helena told the cub-chick softly. “Please don’t attack me, okay?”
The cub-chick scrambled to her feet, her sharp talons clicking loudly against the floor as she sought to gain balance.
“Helena!” Bertram cried out as the beast leapt once again.
But unlike when V-2 had launched herself at Bertram, V-2 did not jump talons-first. And V-2 wasn’t aiming for Helena’s neck, but her lap.
“Mraawww!” said V-2. She made a little circle and then lay down between Helena’s legs, resting her beak and chin on Helena’s knee.
“What the fuck?” Bertram asked.
“Oh gosh, she’s practically limp,” Helena said. “She must be disoriented. Maybe she has a concussion; she could have hit her head hard!”
Helena lifted the baby cub-chick to get a closer look at her.
Helena locked eyes with her, and her own eyes started to sting slightly. She wondered if it was perhaps due to the sheer brightness of the cub-chick’s eyes, which were such a spectacular amber that it seemed as if there was light coming from within rather than simply reflecting off them.
Helena’s own eyes began to burn slightly. Her pupils felt strangely too tight—if that was even a thing pupils could feel—and her vision was suddenly blurry.
Her entire neck felt stiff, as if she couldn’t have turned her head even if she wanted to. Her eyes, blurry vision and all, were locked firmly onto V-2’s eyes.
Then V-2 blinked.
Helena felt like she could breathe again.
V-2 cooed happily.
“You seem pretty alert and responsive,” Helena said to the baby cub-chick. “Are you okay?”
“Mraw,” said the cub-chick, and then she began purring loudly. It was a low, deep rumble, punctuated with occasionally squeaks and chirps.
“Oh! That’s the noise I was hearing from inside the egg!” Helena said. “I told you, Bertram; I told you I wasn’t imagining it! Remember when I said it was kind of a . . . a prrrvvvrrtgggghhhh kind of sound? This is it! This is the sound! Do you hear it now?”
“Yeah,” Bertram said, faintly. “I hear it now. And I think I know why I didn’t before.”
“Because you do have bad hearing after all?” Helena teased.
“No.” Bertram’s tone was oddly stern, though Helena couldn’t imagine why. “Hel, your eyes are shining,”
“I’m sure.” Helena smiled as she stared down at the purring V-2. “She’s the cutest, ugliest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen in my life—”
“No, Helena. I mean your eyes are shining.”
Helena looked up at Bertram in confusion, only to see him glowering down at her with undue fury.
“There’s a ring of silver in your eyes. On the outside of your iris. Just like hers. I’ve seen pictures of marks like those in dragon mothers and offspring. It’s the physical marker of the imprinting bond.” Bertram scowled. “The owl-bear fucking imprinted on you.”