Chapter 3 #2
That's when the little flock--or school?
I don't know what they call a group--of baby octopi approach.
They've changed color from reds to blue-greens.
The tiny octopus shifters, looking rattled but uninjured, snuggle against the adult's still submerged limbs.
The adult loops one tentacle protectively around each of her offspring while holding herself still in the choppy water, and still somehow holds Leighton aloft, with one puce tentacle left over for menacing the cub.
Or, more accurately, it appears they are making sure my nibling is alright.
And their puce skin swirls from reddish brown to settle in a deep shade of greenish teal.
The octopus contorts into a partial shift, taking human form from the shoulders up so she can talk.
It's always an effort to maintain any in between form, but holding onto discrete limbs is simpler than what she was doing to talk before.
I appreciate the change. It's much easier to communicate in a common form.
Shifting to a shared form, even if only partially if a full shift would be awkward like now, to communicate is common courtesy in Four Corners.
It's one of the ways we all work to make our community welcoming to all shifters, no matter their species.
"I'm sorry for the scare. Are you alright little one?" the octopus asks my nibling.
Leighton blinks dazedly up at her, then past her to where the others are flying overhead.
As if seeing our flockmates in their feathers reminds them of their other form, Leighton shifts so their answer is a pitiful fear squawk.
The octopus wasn't ready for a tiny thrashing chick.
I can't blame her for not anticipating the kid would throw a third form at her, most shifters don't mate outside their species, given the potential risks.
So when Leighton shifts into their feathers, they slip out of the tentacled grip and fall into the pool with a plop.
I see Ginger, one of the friendlier lifeguards, shifting into her otter form in midair as they dive for us.
But otters don't know wings the way I do and I've already lunged to the rescue as Leighton laboriously tries to flap their way airborne.
I scoop the hatchling out of danger before they slip underwater.
I know firsthand that raven wings aren't made for swimming and panicked flapping like this is a good way to injure themself.
A bad sprain at this stage of their development could have devastating effects.
My heart is in my throat as the otter lifeguard surfaces at my side.
"You have the avian secured?" Ginger asks.
"Yeah. I've got you Leighton," I coo the last soothingly to the chick. They stop struggling and let me adjust my grip so I can carefully tuck the hatchling's wings against their body.
"Good, we've got a medic en route to examine both children, don't leave until they're checked out, okay?"
"I won't, but can I get a towel to wrap them in for now, to keep their wings immobilized until the medic takes a proper look?"
"Of course. Lewis, stop gawping and grab a towel for the baby raven," Ginger barks the command at her co-worker then turns to address the anxiously apologizing octopus shifter. That's not my problem right now.
Leighton is making tiny baby chirps and trying to wriggle away from me. They sound like a static human toddler crying after a bad scare. I block out the noise of our rave calling out to us and the other lifeguards trying to get the crowd to disperse so I can focus on comforting my nibling.
"I've got you Leigh-Leigh, you're safe now," I croon.
I cradle the trembling bundle of feathers and fluffy baby down to my chest to share my warmth with them.
I hold them still with one hand and use the other to do a cursory check for wounds as I wade to where Hilda is helping Elric hold the rest of my charges back from joining us in the water.
Good, all four of them are accounted for. I can finally breathe past the tight dread in my chest. We're all safe.
Leighton chirrups pitifully and tries to flap their wings when Kyrie sees them and shrieks a barrage of worried scolding at their clutchmate, but I don't let them extend their wings.
Not until we can check them more thoroughly for injuries my inexpert touch can't detect.
They were only flailing their wings around for a second, but better to play it safe.
"I know, bud, but you can't fly until we're sure your wings aren't hurt and shifting again right now isn't a good idea either."
Elric is in their human form, crouching on the edge of the pool deck, arms reaching for our nibling.
"What happened? Are they... hurt?" Elric asks. They bite their lip, unable to ask what they really mean with Myra and Cory clinging to their sides. Myra is growling in her fur and Cory shivers in his swimsuit. They all look so small and scared.
Kyrie seems to have flown past scared to furious at their sibling. They croak for their clutchmate from Elric's shoulder, then scoot sideways down Elric's arm, heedless of their sharp talons scraping the teen's skin, to get closer to their sibling.
"Leighton's fine, startled and a bit winded but nothing a nice preening and some ice cream won't solve," I assure all five of the kids staring at me with wide scared eyes.
"But just to be extra careful, we're going to towel them until the medic arrives to check their wings.
Elric, do you think you can hold them still and let Kyrie preen their head while I get contact information and figure out what happened? "
"Y-yeah. I can handle that." Elric nods. I hesitate, not wanting to put too much responsibility on their young shoulders if they aren't really ready.
"You sure?" I ask as Lewis hands me a blue and white striped kitchen towel from the employee break room and I wrap my nibling up into a birdie burrito, swaddling their wings to their sides to prevent any further strain, just in case.
Just because I broke my wing fighting a losing battle with the ocean doesn't mean a few seconds of flapping in the pool will end the same way for Leighton.
Elric shuffles their feet, then perks up when they notice the crow shifter they were fiirting with earlier giving them a concerned look and waving to them as they file out of the pool area along with everyone else who wasn't involved in the incident.
Elric's shoulders straighten as they give Gracen a reassuring smile.
Gracen gestures at them to text later. Or maybe game?
I don't know what the cool kids mean half the time anymore.
Oh well, at least for now peer pressure is giving my sibling a confidence boost which frees me up to deal with making sure the little octopus is unharmed too.
"Sure. I've got them. No problem. You handle the paperwork, sis." Elric nods, their answer more firm the second time.
"I'll stay with them too," Hilda rests a hand on Myra's bristling nape and nods for me to go ahead. Okay, good, Elric has backup. Perfect.
"Alright then--" I hold Leighton, snazzy in their towel wrap, just above Elric's cupped hands until Elric nods once more.
"Here you go. Keep them warm and still. I'll join you once I have the other family's information.
They got some inky water in their mouth, not sure how much, in case the medics ask.
Oh, and make sure Kyrie is gentle with their beak. "
"Thanks. We've got this," Hilda cuts off any more last minute advice, clapping Elric on the back. My little sibling's chest puffs up with pride at the confidence boost.
"We'll keep your raven posse company in the break room while you talk to the other kid's guardian," Marilee adds, coming up behind the others. Hilda is already shepherding Myra toward the propped open authorized access only door.
I glance down at Leighton, they aren't breathing as heavily as when I first fished them out of the water, but I'm still worried.
Kyrie sidles from Elric's wrist into their cupped hands and settles beside their clutchmate, beaking at the towel with uncertainty.
Leighton has just enough range of motion to offer their feathery head to their sibling in a demand for preening.
Kyrie grabs their sibling's face in a not quite gentle enough talon and obliges, making their affection and irritation alike crystal clear.
Leighton squawks in outrage and Elric nudges Kyrie's talon away.
Kyrie croaks, but they listen to the correction, using their beak to preen their sibling more gently.
Some of the tension leaves me at seeing the siblings bicker like that.
It's so damn normal they have to be fine.
And Elric handled the limit pushing perfectly.
I turn to face my next ordeal. How exactly do you say 'sorry my nibling tried to take a nibble out of your kid, it was an accident?
' Still, the octopus shifter didn't seem to hold any malice once their kid was out of danger.
And Ty, my brother's alpha mate, might have fearsome teeth and powerful jaws in bear form, but it's Bram's unrelenting insistence on meddling that I fear having to face if I tell him what happened to his precious baby and I can't provide contact information to follow up on any lingering effects.
I can already hear his unending fussing over every tiny sniffle, insisting that since we don't know who the octopus was, we can't really know for sure that Leighton didn't ingest some sort of slow-acting life-long octopus venom, can we?
Ugh. Bram is insufferable that way, even when he's not present.
I turn around to face the octopus shifter just as she and Ginger finish talking. Somehow I didn't notice then entire pool being evacuated in all the commotion, not just the water, the area around it too. I guess we ruined open swim for everyone.
I realize with dawning horror that we might have messed up more than this one session of open swim. They'll probably have to do something about the ink before they can open back up too. Featherdust, no, not my morning swim too.
It's bad enough that I'm going to be apologizing to Bram for all eternity.
Then again, this might get me out of ever bringing the kids to this atrocity against the natural order of the pool ever again, so as long as the kids are unharmed, I guess I can hope that all's well that ends well is enough to appease Bram. Yeah, I’m not looking forward to that conversation one bit.