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Meegi couldn't say when he finally woke, instead his mind slowly caught up with him and he found himself staring across the room at the slumped, brown form of his mother. In the dim light of the room, he could just make out her wings that lay loosely by her sides and slowly expanded and contracted with every slow breath she took. Asleep with her head tucked under her wing, his mother didn't look comfortable on the hard floor. Judging by the way she tucked herself tightly into the corner of the room, she appeared as though she was trying to take up the least amount of room possible. Meegi instinctively knew where he was by the sharp scent of disinfectant that hung in the air, the pale blue-grey walls, and the constant slow beeping from machines at the head of his bed. His mother being nearby quelled his panic, even though he didn't quite understand why he was here.

Breathing through his nose, he inhaled deeply and tried to remember what had happened. Everything still felt foggy, but as he began to recall fragments of the game, he wondered if this was what being hungover felt like. He had been trying to score a point, then had gone on the offensive, and was then falling. Try as he might, he couldn't remember hitting the ground or how fast he had been falling, but his heart sank as he tried to move his body. Pressing back first with just his tail to try to straighten his body, he felt the long appendage locked in place, and only the very tip twitched slightly. His neck was no different, and when he tried to move it, he found it restrained by some force that his groggy mind couldn't comprehend. One of his hind legs felt strange, as though the air around it was being compressed by something unyielding, and one of his wings wasn't resting like it should have been.

Due to the way his head was lying on the bed, and his inability to move his neck, his vision was limited. It was unlike any hospital he had seen on television. Instead, it looked as though the room was some sort of apartment, yet the wall next to the head of the bed was cluttered with various knobs, valves, and sockets for medical equipment. A private suite, he concluded, and when he looked towards the window, he could just make out amber lights from the buildings across the street bleeding through the horizontal slats. It was nighttime, but what time or what day, he wasn't sure. Looking towards his mother in concern, he tried to call out to her. “Mommm?” His voice sounded weak, and as he said the word, a wave of sluggish exhaustion enveloped him.

His mother's wing twitched a second before her head pulled out from under it, and she looked at him with bleary, bloodshot eyes. “Meegi? Oh gods,” she cried softly as she leapt to her feet and rushed to his side. “It's okay, baby, I’m here, you're okay,” she rambled, concern heavy in her voice. She picked up something with a cable from his bed, and he heard a chime play from the wall when she pressed down on it. “A doctor will be here soon and get you out of this. Just hold on. Everything is going to be okay.”

Despite her words, the panic in her voice unsettled Meegi, and he tried to feel all of his limbs. He wasn't able to move one of his hind paws, and when he moved both of his wings, one felt as though it was glued to his sides, but the fact that he could feel both of them gave him a brief flutter of hope. “Did… did we win?” he croaked and winced as he swallowed.

“Did we…” his mother replied with an exasperated sigh and looked at him in disbelief before nuzzling his cheek. “Did we win… really?” she added with a single defeated chuckle. “Yes, yes, the Cresties won,” she finally answered and pulled her head back to look down at him. “You had a crash, a bad one. Do you remember?” she asked and jolted when the door to the hospital room opened with a click.

“Meegi, hello,” came a female voice from behind him, and he briefly shut his eyes as the lights brightened to flood the room with pale white light. He wanted to lift his head and turn to see who was approaching him, but his neck remained locked in place and all he could manage was a small shuffle of his snout across the bedding. Thankfully, the doctor circled around the bed and her figure came into view. “Just take it easy for a sec there, Champ, you had a pretty nasty hit,” she continued before moving to his head and extracting a small torch from her breast pocket. Meegi recognised her wild crimson hair and realised she had been with him after the crash. “I will be your Doctor for this evening , but you can call me Meg. But I'll tell the cooks to only give you jello if you call me Megan, okay?” she asked with a smile and clicked the torch on. Without waiting for him to reply, she began moving the light from left to right across his vision and studied his eyes as though searching for something. “Yeah… that's to be expected…” she mused to herself before clicking off the light. “You have a concussion, but hopefully nothing too bad.”

Players had been benched for mild concussions, and the thought of not playing in the next game made his body jolt in the elevated bed. “Easy, buddy, hold on. I've got you,” the doctor cooed before leaning over the edge of the bed to grip onto his neck. He didn't feel her hands against his scales but paused when he heard the familiar rip of Velcro being opened. “The brace is just a precaution. Some people wake up in a bit of a fit, and we didn't want you hurting yourself. Last thing we need is a big strong drake like yourself flailing around. Just keep still and I'll get it off you,” she continued, and as she ripped off a series of straps, Meegi began to feel as though he was able to move his neck.

“I said keep still, don't make me keep them on,” Meg warned with a voice that was equal parts stern and calming. “Just lie there and let the nice lady look after you,” she added with a small chuckle and stepped around the bed to continue pulling off the restraints closer to his shoulders. “You woke sooner than expected, and your primary doctor doesn't start for another few hours. So for now, you get to deal with me,” Meg continued as she worked before moving back to his snout and slipping both hands under his jaw. “Alright, take everything slowly. Can you move your head? Just try lifting it. Stop if it hurts even a little bit.”

Meegi ever so slowly lifted his head from the padded bed and caught a small tremble in his mother's lips. Without a doubt, she had been worried, and seeing him move eased her mind. “It doesn't hurt, just a little sore,” Meegi murmured, and when the doctor moved her hands away, he turned his head so that he could see more of his body. What he saw sent a blade of panic lancing through his chest. Starting from the middle of his shoulders, a series of large plastic plates were secured against his spine, each held on with a dozen long, white straps that circled his body and forced his back into a specific shape. It continued all the way down his tail, which sported a series of bandages at the midpoint. His left wing was completely covered in white wing binder, which also circled around his neck and waist to keep it pinned close to his side.

“Easy, Meegi, slowly, remember?” the doctor murmured in a soft tone, and when she glanced across to his mother, the dragoness stepped closer to the bed as if to stop him if he moved too much. While he lay on his side on the gurney, his whole body was at a more comfortable height for the doctor to work and with his mother towering over him for the first time in years, he felt like a fledgling again. Looking at the doctor, Meegi saw her focused on his neck and throat before she stepped up onto the cushioned bed and began to place her hands on his scaled neck. “Okay, tell me if this hurts,” she instructed and began to palpate different areas of his throat and neck. Nothing she did actually hurt, but it felt strange; and when she pressed firmly against both sides of his windpipe, he had to cough suddenly. “That's good, okay. I'm going to get you out of the rest of these restraints, but on one condition. You listening?” she asked and looked at him with a lopsided smile.

“I–I am,” Meegi croaked and curled his neck into a tight turn so that he could look at her. The movement felt stiff but not painful and felt as though he had slept on hard concrete, but he didn't complain.

“I need you to not stretch or flail about, you hear me? You took a pretty nasty hit to your spine, and I don't want you tearing your spinal cord your newfound freedom. Okay? Just lie there like you are right now as I take it off,” she continued and waited for him to nod before moving down to his shoulders. “You will probably feel the need to stretch your wings, that's normal. But you’re gonna have to control yourself. I can't have you tipping off the bed and landing on your wing. That will mean a ton of paperwork, your insurance asking questions, my boss will talk to me… let's just keep our big strong wings to ourselves,” Meg mused in an attempt to lift the mood, as she pulled each strap free.

True to her word, Meegi felt a strange tension leaving his body as the tightness of each strap eased, and for a second he wanted to shuffle his wings to make sure they were folded right, even though one was still in a sling. The twitch in his wing shoulders wasn't missed by the doctor, who placed a hand just ahead of his shoulder and held it with a grip that surprised him. “Sorry,” Meegi murmured and looked down at his body. It felt easier to control his urge to stretch if he watched each of the straps come free and instead began to relax further into the bed as she came to the back of his tail. “My wings–” the thought of not being able to fly again caused his words to die in his mouth. Clearing his throat once more, Meegi forced himself to continue. “Will– can I still…?”

“Fly? Yes, I don't see why not, but not today. You got it popped out pretty good, and it's gonna feel pretty weird for a few weeks. But we got it back in while you were out. We also had to put a splint on your inner wing finger. Thankfully, there wasn't anything broken, but you hyperextended the tendons,” the doctor explained and looked back at him to flash him a reassuring smile. “You got pretty lucky. Your team captain caught you and prevented you hitting the ground at full speed. Otherwise, you would be in a lot worse shape. So you might want to buy him a beer or something,” she continued as she unwrapped one of the straps that secured his hips to the rigid plastic brace. “Although, I don't think you will be playing for the rest of the season. You landed badly and broke two of your tarsal bones. Nothing that a cast and time won't fix, but you are going to be on three legs for a while.”

The news tugged at his stomach and, as the woman moved further down his tail, he extended a hind leg out. True to her word, his right hind leg was covered in a slender yet rigid cast that had been wrapped in a red-coloured binding. Only the tips of his talons protruded from the bottom of the cast, and it continued up well past his stifle joint. Knowing that he wouldn't be playing for the rest of the season made him slump and look towards his mother, who nodded sympathetically before turning to the doctor. “How long does it take to heal fully? Will he be good for next season?”

“Oh, one hundred percent,” the doctor replied confidently and finished removing the last of the straps that had been holding his tail in place. “You're a fit young drake. I have no doubts that you will be back thrashing my Warblers in no time… assuming they come back next season…” Meg continued with a chuckle, as she brushed a lock of red hair out of her eyes. “No, I think the Cresties will still have their most nimble claimer next season. But I have to warn you, your wing shoulder, it was dislocated pretty badly. We can give you a heap of exercises that will help, but it may pop out easier next time. It's just kind of one of those things.”

Meegi nodded in understanding, but his mind was still reeling at the knowledge that he would be benched for the finals. The team had already had to replace one good player, changing the composition again would be devastating, but he knew he was no good to them with a broken foot. “When can I start flying again?” he asked and looked down at his hind leg with growing frustration.

“For the next two weeks, I want you doing nothing but bed rest. Doctor's orders. I don't care what your coach says. You did hit your head, and I don't want to hear about you passing out on the wing and spattering yourself across the field. Your primary doctor did a lot of work to fix you up, and I don't want his work to go to waste,” the doctor explained while crossing her arms and looking at him with an almost scalding expression. “After two weeks, we’ll do an exam to be sure, but supervised, light flying should be okay. I don't think you should be flying for training for at least twelve weeks, however. We will get you back here to do another X-ray of your leg in six weeks to see how it's healing, but expect eight weeks or so with your cast minimum. In the meantime, weights and that sort of thing are fine as long as they don't stress your injuries and you listen to your body. We will give you some meds that will help with the pain, but remember, just because you can't feel the pain doesn't mean you're not stressing your muscles and ligaments. Likewise, your cast weighs a bit. We can get you a sling to stop it dangling while you fly, but no high-G turns while you have that on. Okay?” she asked, and Meegi nodded while he was still processing what she was saying. “So for take-offs and landings, you will have to do everything with your other leg, which means take it easy. We've had patients return because they tore a ligament in their good leg as it was doing double duty, and I'd rather see you walking on three legs home than have you back here because you landed too hard.”

“Got it,” Meegi said and looked down at his tail and at the bandages that wrapped around the middle. “My tail?”

“Just a few missing scales, don't worry. You might be left with a bit of a scar. But chicks dig scars, you’ll be fine,” Meg replied and moved towards his wing. “I'm going to loosen this off a bit, okay? I still want you to keep it on while you're here. You hyperextended your pectoralis muscle, so you might find that your wing wants to lift up more than sit right. That's completely normal, and in a few days it will behave itself. Just be thankful you didn't tear it from your keel. That takes months to heal,” she continued as she worked.

Meegi's eyes narrowed as the tension of the sling eased, and while he had expected his wing to sag, it instead lifted and partially extended of its own volition. “Why does it do that?” he asked as he gingerly adjusted his wing with the slightly slack restraints. It was as though it had a mind of its own, and he had to consciously apply effort to keep it folded.

“It's just the way your wings work. You've got your pectoralis that goes from the keel of your chest to your wings,” Meg explained as she moved towards his front. Gesturing from the middle of his chest, she didn't touch his scales but traced towards the root of his wing. “But then you have your supracoracoideus muscle that is on the inside of your keel and runs up over your wing shoulder and then connects to the top of your wing. It will try and pull your wing up, the pectoralis pulls it down. Even when your wings are folded, they pull against one another to keep your wings from dragging on the ground. Because of how your wing got pulled back, your pectoralis is a bit longer than it should be and isn't holding your wing down. It will heal, of course, but for now your wing will be a bit clumsy. I can tighten it if it gets too much, but over the next few days we will want to see that sling get looser and looser as you get your strength back,” she explained before checking the strap of his wing sling. “Honestly, you came off better than we thought. I didn't get to see the game until last night, and that Kiineh ‘ness really did a number on you. Many would have dropped the ball a lot sooner.”

“I can be a bit stubborn sometimes,” Meegi mused with a weak smile that made the doctor chuckle. His eyes narrowed as he processed what she had said and tilted his head to one side. “You didn't get to watch the game ‘until’ last night… it was tonight… wasn't it?” he asked and pulled his gaze from the doctor to turn to his mother. The look on her face shifted to one of concern, and as she shook her head, the doctor placed her hand on his forepaw.

“Meegi, like I said, you hit your head pretty hard,” the doctor started, and when he looked back at her, he could see that she had a worried look in her eyes. Confusion swept over him and as he opened his mouth to ask what she meant, his voice faltered and nothing comprehensible came out. “Today is Monday. You've been out for a couple of days.”

“Monday?” Meegi replied in bewilderment. The game had been Friday night. The fact that there were entire days missing from his memory didn't sit right with him, and as he thought back, he still couldn't remember the moments leading up to the crash. “Did Tiiphani come by?” he asked and turned to his mother. Her expression shifted as she took a small half-step backwards and sat back on her haunches.

“She came by on Saturday afternoon to see how you were going,” his mother replied in a voice that sounded as though she was fighting to stay strictly factual. Meegi knew his mother wasn't the biggest fan of Tiiphani, and it was clear that his mate had upset his mother in some way. “They wanted to be notified once you were awake, so I should probably send them a message,” she added but didn't make any move to get her phone from the harness that lay folded in the corner of the room.

“You've been here the whole time?” Meegi asked and felt a mixture of warmth and guilt when she nodded. Knowing that she had always been by his side was comforting, but the fact that she had given up her entire weekend and hadn't slept in her bed made him feel uncomfortable. “Thanks,” he added in a soft murmur that brought a small smile to his mother's lips.

“Now, you need to take things easy. I don't want you leaving your bed until we say so, okay?” Doctor Meg asked, and as Meegi turned his head, he felt another wave of exhaustion swell inside him. He hadn't done anything, yet his body felt heavy and, without protesting, he relaxed back across the bed. “If you need anything, just ring the bell and either myself or one of the nurses will come. The remote for the television is in the side of the bed, and I apologise in advance for the food,” she added with a smirk before addressing his mother in a more serious tone. “Tomorrow afternoon, Doctor Keenis will be on duty and he will want to give you a check-up, so try not to hurt yourself between now and then or else he will be mad,” the doctor added with a lopsided smile. She was clearly trying to lift his spirits, and he found his smile forming automatically out of politeness. “And Mom, he needs rest though, okay? He is in safe hands and visiting hours ended at five, but I'll tell the nurses you were leaving,” Meg added with a small wink and then turned on her heels.

“Thank you, Doctor,” his mother replied and dipped her head in a small, respectful bow as the doctor left the room. She waited a few seconds after the door had closed before flashing a guilty smile towards Meegi. “They didn't really like me staying here outside visiting hours,” she said before shuffling closer so that she could place a paw on the edge of the bed.

“Did you make a scene?” Meegi asked with a growing smile that turned into him shaking his head in dismay when she lifted her wing shoulders and looked away. “Mom–”

“My baby was hurt, what was I going to do? Go home and watch television?” she replied defensively and moved her forepaw to gently stroke the side of his cheek. “No, my place was right here. I knew you'd wake up at any moment, and the thought of you being alone… no,” she added with a sense of finality.

“Well, I'm awake now, you don't need to worry,” Meegi replied and stretched out further on the bed until his tail tip dropped off the edge. His back clicked and he momentarily froze in concern before continuing to relax. “I'm not going anywhere by the looks of it,” he continued, and despite his voice turning sullen, he smiled as his mother stroked the side of his neck.

“Hey now, don't be going all mopey on me. You're alive and you've still got your wings. After a crash like that… well…” her words drifted off as she couldn't say what they were both thinking. If it wasn't for Fiital catching him, there would have been a good chance that he would have ended up paralysed or worse. “And besides…” she continued, pulling her neck back before looking down at him with a neutral expression. “Tiiphani will probably be around tomorrow, so that will cheer you up,” she added, her nostrils flaring slightly as she hid a smile. “I'm sure she will be keen to tell you what she's been up to the last few days and how you missed a shopping trip or her getting her horns bleached for the third time this week.”

Groaning loudly as he exhaled, Meegi made his mother laugh and smiled in return. “Mom, please. I know she can be a bit much–”

“A bit? For someone who has everything, she sure does like to complain a lot,” his mother continued and lay down on the ground beside the bed. “She had a go at the doctor for using the wrong shade of red for your cast. For fuck's sake, it's not like it's a fashion accessory.”

Meegi's attempt at a laugh sent a shiver of pain through his chest and made him groan again. “Let me guess, it didn't match the team colours?” he asked and shook his head against the pillows when she nodded. “Well, she has a job to do, just like I do,” he murmured softly while resting his eyes. Just hearing her voice was comforting and soothed his mind as he felt the heavy blanket of exhaustion creep over him.

“You're her mate, Meegi. That should come first, right?” his mother asked, and when he didn't reply, she sighed softly. “Maybe I'm just old-fashioned like that,” she added, making Meegi quiver with a small chuckle. “I guess you two will have time to be real mates now if you're on light duties for the next little while. Who knows, hanging out with her might speed up your recovery,” she added, and Meegi could hear the smile in her voice.

“Mooom, she isn't that bad,” Meegi lied, and his sleepy smile faded as he imagined what the next few weeks would entail. Going to the gym, training, and the games themselves had always been something to look forward to when he had felt confined by the dragoness' overbearing presence. Now that he couldn't escape her as easily, he knew that he would need to tolerate her for longer periods of time.

“Oh, I know, I know. I’m just being silly,” his mother mused, and he felt her paw stroke the side of his neck softly. “I’m sure she will be a dutiful mate who will bring you breakfast in bed and fill your time with countless meaningful conversations,” she teased, but Meegi couldn't find the energy to reply.

---

The large clock on the wall of Meegi's suite had barely clicked to eight when the door was pushed open and Meegi's mother entered the room once more. She looked as though she had gotten some sleep, although Meegi wasn't sure exactly what time she had left the night before. “Oh, you're awake!” she said with a newfound cheer as she moved across the private suite and resumed her position beside him. Unlike last night, her harness was now bristling with pouches so full that their straps almost didn't close. “I brought you some things to cheer you up. Not much, but some books, food, and that sort of thing,” she rambled, and Meegi smiled as she sat down while unhooking a tan-coloured flask from her harness. Notably, the lid was a bright green like the small flecks in his scales and sported a logo that warmed Meegi's chest. “Your old boss, Mike, is it? He insisted you get this, but I told him to make it half strength. I don't know if you're allowed caffeine or not, so I hope it's not too bad,” she explained before placing the flask on a small table beside his bed. “And look, I know your team's dietitian is probably going to tell me off for this, but I figured if you're off for a few weeks, then something naughty couldn't hurt,” she continued and opened up the left flap of the pouch that hung around her front.

Lifting his head as he smelt the mixture of oily meat, hardly dairy cheese, sweet barbecue sauce, and dry sugary bread, Meegi's mouth went moist as she pulled out a brown paper bag with golden arches printed on the front. “Really?” he asked rhetorically and pulled himself around so that he was lying more on his front.

“Trust me, the food here is god-awful, but be quick. I doubt the doctors will be pleased, and I had to sneak it past your security,” she replied with a guilty smile and placed the bag on the edge of the bed.

Without hesitating, Meegi reached forwards into the bag to pull out a pair of extra-large breakfast sandwiches from within. They were still hot in the paw, and he flipped one over to unwrap it before glancing over his shoulder towards the door. “Security? Really?” he asked and bit into the paw-sized treat. The groan of bliss that escaped his mouth made his mother snicker, and he couldn't help but let his eyes roll back as he tasted the delightful flavour of processed sausage patty, cheese, what was allegedly an egg, drowned in sauce and sandwiched between two buns.

“Yes, security has been here since the crash. Just fan control, I suspect,” his mother replied and grinned as he chewed briefly and swallowed before taking the rest into his mouth with a second bite. “You know someone tried to take advantage of Paaskal when he got downed? Apparently really wanted to have his eggs–” her words were cut off when Meegi coughed loudly and half inhaled his food.

Curling his neck down, Meegi coughed twice before swallowing again and looked at his mother in disbelief. “Wait, what?” he asked, and his eyes widened in disbelief when she nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah, got a doctor's uniform and everything, managed to get into his room too. Guards stopped her from succeeding, but apparently she was a bit obsessed with him and wanted to ‘carry his heir,’ they said,” she continued and began to pull out a collection of books and magazines for him to read.

Finishing his first burger, he reached forwards with a smirk. “Now I see why you were so insistent on staying these last few nights. Wanted to make sure I didn't get a ‘ness knocked up, hey?” Meegi teased and recoiled when his mother snatched away the second burger from the edge of his bed.

“Hey now, I don't mind if you decide to have a little one,” his mother explained as she unwrapped the burger slowly and looked at it from side to side as if inspecting it. “But by god, you're gonna be there to raise it,” she added and placed it down on the wrapper of his first for him to have. “And can you imagine how feral Tiiphani would go if she heard some tart took advantage of you?”

“Depends… If it was a red ‘ness, she'd probably steal it off the ‘ness so she didn't have to have one herself,” Meegi chuckled and bit into his burger before adding with another chuckle, “Claim it as some kind of intellectual property or something,” he added, making his mother laugh and shake her head in dismay, but with undeniable agreement.

She continued to watch him eat before inhaling and relaxing her posture, as if the mere fact he was awake comforted her. “Are you in any pain?” she asked as her eyes lingered on the crimson cast on his leg. With his mouth full, Meegi wasn't able to reply and instead shook his head. “That's good. I remember breaking a leg when I was little. Gods, it was uncomfortable,” she mused before tugging on the buckles of her harness and letting it slip down to the ground.

“I don't remember this story. What happened?” Meegi asked once he had swallowed the last of his burger. Using his one good hind leg and both of his forepaws, he pulled himself up the bed and extended his neck to reach for the flask of coffee. Clamping his jaws around the top, he brought it down to his forepaws and began to undo the lid.

“Oh, well… It was pretty embarrassing, really. I was young, dumb and in college at the time, trying to impress this fur drake who was on some exchange program. I think he was from Sweden or Norway or something. I can't remember… Paalo, that's his name!” she exclaimed before shrugging her wings. “Fur like liquid silver, very handsome. Could not eat quietly though… that was a shame…”

“Mom–”

“Right, yes, sorry.” His mother laughed and refocused on the present. “I managed to convince him to ask me out, and we decided to go check out this frozen lake up north. It was wintertime, or very early spring… either way, frozen lake, still snowing, very romantic. Or rather it would have been…” she continued before smirking a nostalgic smile and shaking her head. “We flew out there, and by gods it was cold. My wings were practically frozen stiff by the time we arrived, and when it came to the landing, I kinda borked it.”

“And you broke your leg? Just from landing?” Meegi asked in genuine confusion. He understood that the ice would be hard, but he hadn't heard of someone breaking a leg while deliberately trying to land.

“Oh, I fucked up. The whole lake was frozen and kinda just one colour. I, like an eager ‘ness, was trying to show off. He warned me to take it slow and, well, you know me… swooped and turned around to land at a backwards trot. Then yeah, broke the ice with my paw and sank down to my knee, then fell back horns over tail, and… snap,” she concluded and pressed a forepaw to her right hind leg. “The date was kind of over after that,” she added with a small laugh.

“How long did it take to heal?”

His mother glanced between his cast and his eyes before scratching her foreleg like she did whenever she wasn't telling the whole truth. “Looking back, I don't really remember. I just kind of stayed on campus and, before I knew it, the cast was off and I was back to normal,” she replied and pursed her lips when Meegi looked at her with a sceptical expression. He knew she was lying, and she knew how to read him just as well. “It was a while. The whole spring break I was hobbling around, and I think it was mid-August when it came off.”

“And Paalo? What happened to him?” Meegi asked before lowering his snout and sniffing the mouth of his coffee flask. The aroma of the hot coffee made his whole body relax in the bed and, if he closed his eyes, he could easily imagine he was back at the cafe.

“Oh, it didn't work out, obviously,” his mother replied as she stiffened and began to distract herself with one of the pouches on her harness. “Apparently he didn't want to hang around with a crippled ‘ness, but wanted to enjoy the local culture…” she mused with a bite in her voice. When she looked up from her pouch and saw he was still looking at her for an explanation, she simply shrugged her wings. “My bestie caught him banging some senior in the dorm over, and that was that.”

“Dick,” Meegi replied quickly, earning a smile of thanks from his mother before she returned to rummaging in her pouch. Taking a deep gulp of the hot coffee, Meegi hummed in satisfaction and, when his mother looked up, extended his foreleg to offer her some.

Instead of taking it from him, the dragoness shook her head. “Thanks, but I've gotta work tonight and I'll need one then,” she replied and pulled out a novel-sized book from the depths of her pouch. Despite earning enough to support his mother with a very comfortable lifestyle, she had insisted that she continue to work at the same Turkish restaurant she had for years. Although now she worked as a manager and coordinated the operations rather than waiting tables. He had been against it until she had explained that she found herself tempted to drink if she was sitting around at home all day. “I’ve had Susan covering me for the last few days, but three of the girls have called out on seasonal leave. So I'll have to go in,” she explained and lay down on the floor so that her side leaned against the wall.

Meegi could sense that she didn't want to leave his side, and instead she wanted to stay with him, and truth be told, he was enjoying the honest conversation. However, he forced a smile and bobbed his head in understanding. “It's okay, I'm going to be here for a while,” he said in an attempt to reassure her, but instead it came across as more sad than comforting. “Just ‘cause I've gotta stay here doesn't mean you have to.”

“It's fine, I really don't mind–” his mother replied and stiffened when a knock on the door rang out across the room. Without waiting for a reply, the door opened and in strode the crimson drake Haanith. He walked with his neck curled back in a professional and cold posture and nodded in greeting as his eyes scanned the room. His mother moved quickly and collected the wrappers from the bed and smiled a stiff smile. “Well, I enjoyed these. Maybe when your appetite returns, we will try again,” she added in a poor attempt to claim the evidence as hers.

“How are you feeling?” asked the drake, his voice lacking concern and instead sounding almost accusatory. He didn't even acknowledge Meegi's mother or the fact that he had been eating takeaway. Standing at the foot of the bed, he looked Meegi up and down with a critical gaze that made Meegi shuffle his one good wing closer to his side. It was clear that he wasn't in a good mood, and the fact that the drake had come himself rather than send an assistant made Meegi feel as though his broken body was the source of the drake's ire.

“Good, sir,” Meegi said and noticed a small twitch in the corner of the drake's eye, as if what he said was somehow the incorrect answer. “Well, as good as is to be expected… Though something tells me I won't be good for the next game,” he added in an attempt to lift the mood. The drake hardly reacted and instead locked eyes with a piercing stare. It was as if the drake was weighing up Meegi's worth, and he was coming up short. “I heard Riian managed to score. We’re going to the finals, right?” he asked and glanced towards his mother to gauge her expression. She too looked stiff and now sat as if ready to stand. The drake's posture and expression had made her just as on edge as Meegi, and she now looked at him with concern.

“We are,” Haanith said flatly and looked down Meegi's body before locking his gaze on the hardened crimson cast on his hind leg. “But you're not.” He added this in a tone that made it clear he was implying more than what he was saying.

Confusion pulled at Meegi's mind, but he tried not to sound ignorant. Instead, he pulled himself up further on the bed and lifted his head higher to appear more confident. “Well, I won't be playing. But I can cheer the team on, right? It will probably make a good publicity thing, showing that we are still a team even though I'm not in the fight–”

“How long have you known that you can do magic?” Haanith said, cutting him off and looking at him with an intense expression. The sudden change of topic, and to one he had tried to keep secret, made Meegi's jaw part and his eyes briefly widen before he forced himself to lean into his confusion and tilt his head with narrowed eyes. However, as he inhaled to speak, the drake lifted a paw and held up a talon. “I want the truth, Meegi. Not what you think I want to hear.”

Meegi refused to look towards his mother and instead stayed focused on the drake. “I’m sorry, I think the pain meds are messing with my head. Magic? You think I can do magic?” he said with a small scoff that came out as more of a nervous laugh than he would have liked. His heart pounded in his chest, and he prayed that one of the many screens mounted behind his bed wasn't measuring his heartbeat.

“Magic? What? Meegi? He can't do magic,” his mother started. As convincing as she sounded, her wings were still pulled tight against her sides. “I think I would know if my son could do–”

“I want to hear it from him,” Haanith said, his gaze not breaking from Meegi's and silencing his mother. “Meegi, listen to me very closely. They did blood work on you, and it came back positive,” Haanith replied and raised both his eye ridges as if calling Meegi's bluff. Meegi's neck pulled back an inch as he thought quickly. Growing up, he had been told that there wasn't any way to test for magic. However, he had been told that over a decade ago, and it had been a passing conversation he had with his biology teacher. At the time, he had tried not to sound too interested, and now he wished he had kept abreast of any developments in testing. It felt like he was at school, being asked to present on something he should have been paying more attention to, and now his boss was seeing through his lies. “So tell me the truth. How long have you been able to do magic?” he repeated, and Meegi's heart sank.

He could deny it, keep his face straight, look him in the eye and lie like he had countless times. It didn't matter if it was to his boss and mate's father, he could bury his shame and say that the test must be a false positive. He was briefly tempted to go as far as to say something bigoted and rude, something that mirrored what he had heard Tiiphani say to try and earn favour with the drake. However, they would just test his blood again, and then what would he do? He could continue to refuse that he ever knew, say that this was as much a surprise to him as to them, but he would be fighting an uphill battle to try and convince Haanith. Regardless of whether they believed him or not, he knew he would still get cut from the team and his career would be over. Tiiphani would likely dump him. Her commentary on magic users was still etched in his memory, and he doubted there was any way she could convince herself he wasn't anything more than a freak.

Lying on his side, with his broken leg and wing in a sling, he felt completely exposed and at the mercy of the imposing drake. His life was beginning to come undone, and adrenaline flooded his body, making his blood run cold as a wave of nausea washed through his gut. The silence had stretched on too long now, and he had to say something. Clearing his throat and forcing a swallow to buy a brief second of time, Meegi's mind settled on only one possible solution.

“I can't do it like Maalkorm can,” he murmured and shrank back as the drake's expression turned to one of undeniable disappointment. Meegi hoped that the truth would earn him some sort of favour with his boss, and when he tore his gaze from him and looked towards his mother, he saw a look of pain in her eyes. She knew what this truth would mean for his career and that by admitting it, he would likely be kicked from the team.

“He is still the best claimer you have on your team, and clearly, he can control himself. Can't you, Meegi?” his mother exclaimed quickly, rising to her feet and stepping to the edge of his bed to literally fight by his side. “Not once did he use his gifts, even when that bitch was yanking on his wing. He knows the risks and–”

“It doesn't matter!” Haanith snarled, his wings lifting from his sides to appear even larger than he was. “For fuck's sake, Meegi! Do you have any idea what this means?” he growled in a low warning voice. “After everything we did with the Warblers, do you know how this would look?” he added before snapping his head to one side and beginning to pace the space at the foot of Meegi's bed. “I was hoping Looran was full of shit, I really was… Fuck!” he swore and briefly glanced back towards Meegi with a look of pure contempt.

At the mention of his former teammate, Meegi's eyes narrowed in confusion. “Looran? I don't understand–”

“They can't test blood for magic! Otherwise I would have done that before signing you on! I just needed to hear it from you,” Haanith snapped as he turned around and glared at Meegi. “Looran came to me the day after she got dropped, saying that she caught you doing magic in the gym or something. I didn't believe her. I thought she was just saying anything to stay on the team. I honestly didn't expect this,” Haanith said and gestured with his folded wing towards Meegi. He continued to pace two more laps while occasionally shaking his head as if arguing with himself. “Who else knows?” The question was blunt and sounded dangerous. Having seen the Warblers get removed from the championship, he knew just how much this could hurt the drake's team.

“Just family,” Meegi's mother answered cryptically, as if sensing danger. It was a good answer, and it wasn't a lie. The only people who knew of his gifts were his mother and Meegi's grandparents, who had passed away years ago. Meegi didn't know what the drake had in mind as consequences, but he suddenly felt very vulnerable on the bed in front of the furious drake. “Right, Meegi? You haven't told anyone else?” she added and didn't take her eyes off the red drake.

“Only family. I never told anyone at school. Not even Tiiphani knows. I promise,” Meegi answered and found himself rolling his coffee flask between his forepaws. “I know how important this is, and I've kept it hidden–”

“Not well enough!” snapped Haanith with venom in his voice, and his tail thudded against the wall as it lashed behind him. The impact made Meegi's ears burn and caused him to shrink back an inch. “For fuck's sake, Meegi…” the drake continued as he shook his head.

“You're done.”

Haanith's words came down like a judge's gavel, and Meegi knew that any chance of rebuttal was useless, although it didn't stop him from trying. “I'm not like Maalkorm, though. I can't do shit with it, and we can keep it a secret. No one else needs to know. I can still fly for you once I'm better, and it won't be an issue as long as I don't get caught…” he whined, but the team's owner simply shook his head.

“Looran will be taking your place for the rest of the season. That will keep her quiet,” Haanith said slowly and effortlessly, as though he had rehearsed it on the flight over. “We will say that your injuries are more severe than they are and that you will be retiring from the game to focus on your health. You will not be playing for another team, and you will never mention your gifts to anyone,” he continued and sat back on his haunches.

“But no one else knows–” Meegi tried to protest but was silenced by a shake of the larger drake's head. His mother's paw came to the bed and gripped his, her touch reminding him that he wasn't alone.

“I hoped I didn't have to use these, I really did,” he mused and pulled out a series of manila folders from the pouch that clung to the front of his harness. He took a moment to flick through them, and Meegi caught a glimpse of one marked ‘permanent injury.’ It seemed the drake had been busy having a variety of documents drafted for different situations. “Here. You will need to sign this,” Haanith instructed and walked on three legs to come closer. Dropping it down on the bed between Meegi's paws, the folder was simply marked with a red X in the top right corner.

Meegi's paws trembled as he slipped a talon under the top cover and opened it to reveal multiple sheets of dense text. The title, Early Termination of Contract, was in bold at the top of the page and included in the footer of every subsequent page. He tried to read the first paragraph, but his mind was writhing with dismay at what he was seeing. “We will pay you out for the rest of your contract and base your bonuses off your last five games' performances. This will come as a single lump sum on the next pay run. Your image and likeness will continue to be used for promotional material, and we will have exclusive control over press releases regarding your injuries and your departure from the team...” Haanith continued, his words rolling off his tongue as though he had delivered the same speech a dozen times.

Meegi listened as he tried to read the lengthy document and saw mentions of what Haanith was saying amongst the legalese and jargon that filled each line. Looking up from the document, he refocused on the drake as he continued to explain what had already been determined for his future. “An additional sum will be withheld by us and will be forfeited in the event that your gifts are exposed by yourself or by anyone you have told. After five years, this money will be released to you. Likewise, in the event that any damages come to the Cresties or their brand as a result of you lying on your initial contract…” Haanith said and let his words hang in the air. Meegi swallowed deeply at the implication and shook his head.

“I get it,” he admitted solemnly and refocused on the document. “So I sign this and I'm out. That's it?” he asked and looked up at his mother, whose eyes were glossy. “What about Tiiphani? Does she know?”

“She will be told. But it is best for all of us if we create some distance between the brand and yourself,” Haanith spoke professionally, and it took Meegi a few moments to process what he was saying. Of course, if the news broke that he could do magic, things would be far more scandalous if he was still mates with the owner's daughter. At least if it was discovered a few years later, then there would be plausible deniability for Haanith, Tiiphani, and the team. The idea of not seeing his mate again sat strangely with Meegi. He had often thought that the job was a perk of the relationship, but now realised that at some point it had switched.

His mother's grip on his paw tightened at the same time he realised that he was losing more than just his job, but his future as well. Her simple touch somehow grounded him, and his voice remained steady as he nodded. “I understand. And Looran? What if she says something to someone?”

“Being a primary is everything to her. She will sign something similar, and she will be paid off once her time is done with us, provided she doesn't talk. I don't expect she will be a problem,” Haanith said while reaching into his harness to produce a thick black pen. Turning the pages over, Meegi saw that there was a location for him to sign, followed by a duplicate copy for him to keep. Seeing the figures of his payout gave him pause. It was generous, given that he had lied in his initial contract and the team could have sacked him on those grounds alone. A part of him knew that he should take time to read the document from front to back, but at the same time the heavy weight of defeat crushed any resistance he had. Haanith was right. His gifts were a risk that could spell disaster for the team, not just for this season but for future ones as well. After all, Haanith had taken such a firm stance in order to get the Warblers kicked. To have a magic user on his team and as a mate of his daughter meant the red drake had far more to lose.

“Don't sign that,” Meegi's mother protested as he went to reach for the pen in Haanith's paw. The dragoness was looking at the drake with a sceptical expression reserved for when she didn't believe him. “What if he wants to play for another team? You said this bars him from playing for other teams. Why can't he play for the Nixies, or the Dusk Prowlers, or anyone else?”

Meegi had expected the drake to say he was too much of a risk as a magic user and that he didn't want him potentially hurting his teammates. The memory of Looran training with him after their conversation in the gym came back to him, and now it made sense why she was so hesitant to tackle him like Riian. She saw him as a threat and a danger.

However, Haanith simply pursed his lips and pulled his neck into a tight ‘S’ shape. “If he doesn't sign, he will be sacked without the payout,” he replied without answering the question, and Meegi realised there was something more going on. Retracting his paw, he looked down at the documents and skimmed each line for a clue. He had only made it a few lines down when the drake inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled. “If you play for another, I will make sure that the fans know what you can do. I doubt that's what you want, and I don't want to do it either–”

“Yeah, only because it will make you look bad,” his mother snapped, her folded wings lifting from her sides. “Won't it? You’re just trying to get rid of the competition. You don't want him to fly against you, do you?” she added, her voice rising and her tail flicking in annoyance behind her as she took a step towards the drake. “That's it, isn't it? You can't know he can do magic without admitting you knew, and you know he will thrash you next season–”

“Mom,” Meegi said softly, his voice cutting through the tension. She didn't look back at him for a full five seconds, but when she did, he simply shook his head. It wasn't worth it. Flying for another team was never his goal, and as much as he loved the game, having Haanith know his secret while he played against the Cresties would mean living in constant fear of being exposed again. Of course, revealing he knew that Meegi could do magic meant exposing himself. Haanith and his media team would have the advantage of time in curating a story that minimised the fallout. Meegi couldn't think of what they would say to come off clean, but he knew they would craft something that controlled the narrative to make Meegi look like the villain. The alternative was to play the drake's game and sign the paperwork, get paid, and keep quiet. Taking the pen from the drake, Meegi clumsily signed his name on both copies of the paperwork before dropping it on top of the page. “Done,” he said with defeated finality and nodded towards the drake. “Sorry,” he added and found himself unable to hold the drake's gaze.

“For what it's worth, you had us fooled,” Haanith mused as he countersigned the papers, followed by snatching away his copy along with the folder and pen. “And it's a shame. You are genuinely the best claimer we have. Next year you could have been captain. Maybe in another life,” he continued as he stuffed the paperwork into his harness with little care if it was folded. “You’re a good kid, Meegi, and this is the best thing for both of us, as much as I didn't want it to come to this,” he said with a surprising warmth in his voice, as though the risk he had been facing was now quelled. “We will pick up the bill for all this, and I wish you all the best with your recovery,” he added while looking around the hospital suite.

With nothing more than a final nod and a soft sigh, the drake turned and departed, leaving Meegi and his mother alone in silence. Meegi's paws trembled and his body felt cold as the adrenaline left his system, and his mind replayed what had just happened. He was no longer a Crestie. His dream job was gone, and so was his mate. Guilt and shame crashed through his mind like intersecting waves at the knowledge that he regretted losing his job more than Tiiphani. Had he really been putting his love of the game and his own personal gains over what should have been his love for her? Did he even love her? Or was she simply a tool to get him what he needed? The only refuge for his mind's turmoil came in the simple truth that she wasn't here, and she hadn’t rushed to be by his side in the hospital. They had been together for their own selfish reasons, and now he saw himself in the same light as her. Pulling his paws as close to his body, or as far as his cast would allow, and curling his tail around himself, Meegi became engulfed in a sea of self loathing.

His mother huffed as she flopped back down onto her haunches next to Meegi's bed. Meegi found himself unable to look at her as shame built in his mind. He had no one to blame but himself, and that inescapable fact haunted him. He remembered doing magic in the gym and hated himself for testing his powers in the way that he did. The fact that it hadn't been the first time he had used his gifts so obviously and so recklessly tore away any hints of his self confidence. Although he couldn't help having the ability to do magic, he wished he hadn't been so stupid with it and had thought about the consequences.

“...Dick,” his mother hissed quietly and lifted a paw to place on his bed, close enough for him to hold if he wanted to. “Fuck that guy,” she added in an attempt to cheer him up, but her words fell short. Meegi didn't stop her from turning his copy of the contract around so that she could read what he had signed. “Was doing magic really that bad?” she asked, and when Meegi glanced at the page, he saw she had found the breakdown of his payout.

“They make millions each game,” Meegi replied and shrugged his one good wing. “This was cheaper than getting kicked,” he added and avoided his mother's gaze when she turned her head to look at him. “It's fine,” he lied and shivered as he pulled himself around into a tight ball.

“No, no it's not, Meegi. I know how much this meant to you,” his mother countered and lowered her head to nuzzle the bridge of her snout against the side of his neck. “Is there anything I can do?”

Shaking his head, Meegi inhaled deeply and swallowed through the lump in his throat. “No, this was my fault,” he admitted, more for himself than anyone else. “My fuck-up.”

“You didn't fuck up, Meegi. You can't change who you are–”

“Yeah, but I shouldn't have done magic in the fucking team gym,” Meegi snapped and wished he could bury his head under his wing and hide like a hatchling, but the sling kept it folded against his side. The gentle pressure of his mother's snout against his side lifted as she pulled away, and he heard her sniff back a sympathetic tear. “I shouldn't have been a Crestie to begin with. I got lucky…”

A pause hung in the air for a moment before his mother stood up and began to head to the door. “No, now you're being ridiculous. You're a Crestie. Always will be,” she said with a certainty in her voice that made Meegi lift his head and track her movements. “I'll be back.”

“Mom, it's done, I've signed it.”

“I know. This is for me,” she said without looking back and flung the door open with a firm shove of her snout. Meegi went to call out to her, but before he could find the words, she had left the room and the door swung closed.

---

“It always impresses me how quickly athletes heal,” mused the green drake as he studied Meegi's outstretched wing. It had been almost two weeks since Meegi had been admitted to hospital, and he had long grown restless of the regular prodding and poking from the doctors and nurses. However, out of the countless medical professionals who had visited him, his primary doctor was by far Meegi's favourite. Doctor Keenis always carried himself with an air of professional attentiveness mixed with a hint of restrained comedy that made his visits more palatable. Many of the nurses had wanted to talk to him about Dragonball to pass the time while they helped him clean or changed the bandages that covered his missing scales, but Keenis didn't seem to see him as a player and talked to him like an actual person. The doctor had mentioned briefly that he wasn't a fan of the sport, citing that he had fixed up more players than he liked to count, but didn't hate the sport enough to lecture Meegi on the dangers either. The indifference was refreshing, and Meegi found himself talking openly with the drake.

“Not an athlete anymore, remember?” Meegi mused and watched the drake work. His doctor’s scales were a leafy green, with the exception of his wing arms, muzzle, and forelegs, which were a tan cream colour. Most notable, however, was the drake's ability to use magic, which had been a focus of Meegi's curiosity. He had been one of the first doctors assigned to him when he had crashed and had used his powers to reset his broken leg and many of the other injuries he had sustained.

“No, just because you're not a player today doesn't mean you aren't in great shape,” Keenis mused as he placed a paw on the splint that held Meegi's wing finger straight. The polymer tube was split into two halves and had been glued on both sides of his wing to hold the joint straight while the tendons healed, and now the doctor was inspecting to see if it was possible for it to be removed. “Most of the people I see seem to be allergic to taking care of themselves. Like being overweight to the point that they tear a flight muscle, then comfort-eat trash from the vending machine while I fix them up,” Keenis continued before flashing Meegi a small smile. “But you're young, fit, and healthy, and it shows. I think this is probably ready to come off,” he added and sat back on his haunches to begin rummaging through a cart of medical supplies he had dragged with him into Meegi's suite.

“Does that mean I can finally fly?” Meegi asked hopefully and curled his neck to look down at the damaged wing. Despite his broken leg, he had explored every hallway of the hospital on three legs and had made it a daily ritual to do a lap each day with his security in tow, until three days ago, when he had found himself ambushed by a fan who wanted to ask him countless questions about his crash. Since then, he had kept to his room and was now itching to leave as soon as possible.

“Your flight muscles are healing nicely, so I think you should be okay for light flying. But supervised, with someone who can carry you if needed. Okay?” Doctor Keenis asked and glanced around the room as if looking for something. “Your mother didn’t come today?”

“She was here earlier, but she has had to work tonight,” Meegi replied automatically and nodded towards the splint on his wing finger. “Will it hurt coming off?” he asked. After all, it was adhered to his scales and flight membranes.

“Only if you upset me,” Keenis chuckled and lifted from his trolley a small white bottle with a curved clear tube in its lid. “No, this should dissolve the glue just fine,” he continued and leaned back over Meegi's bed to slowly squirt the liquid along the edges of the splint. The smell of pure alcohol stung Meegi's nose, but he didn't complain and watched as the drake began picking at the edges of the plastic splint with a talon.

“You're not going to use magic?” he asked and was surprised when the drake shook his head.

“No, magic is cool and all, but it's taxing, and this is just easier,” Keenis replied in a distracted voice as he tried from another angle. “I really stuck this on good, didn't I?” he asked rhetorically and rested the bottle against Meegi's extended foreleg before reaching back into his cart. “It's a sign that you've been doing as you were told and not flexing it. Most patients kinda work it loose prematurely.”

“You told me not to move it, so I didn't,” Meegi chuckled and frowned when the dragon began pulling what looked like a length of dental floss from a small cardboard box. Coiling the thin string between a digit on each forepaw, he looped the slack over the edge of the splint and began to saw back and forth, letting the ribbon cut through the adhesive.

“Like I said, some people are allergic to getting better,” Keenis chuckled as he worked. “How does your wing feel? Not too sore?” he asked and nodded to the tip of the extended wing. Meegi had been holding it extended for a few minutes now and, compared to when he had first had the sling removed, he could now keep it steady without it lifting or pulling back on its own.

“It's fine. Not as strong as my other, but it doesn't hurt,” Meegi replied and refrained from adjusting his wing while the doctor worked to remove the splint. The side-to-side tugging of the string felt strange, and he had to work against the drake's movements to keep his wing in place. “Sure you don't want to use magic?” he asked as he looked and saw that the doctor had only managed to saw through an inch of the glue.

“It's not a circus trick, Meegi,” chuckled the drake and grunted when the string broke. Shaking his head as he untangled the two lengths from his digits, the doctor then proceeded to rethread the longest one between his digits and slipped it under the edge of the splint once more. “Oh, I forgot to say, someone from the Cresties came by and dropped off a phone for you. Said it was yours?”

“Oh… cool,” Meegi replied and took a deep breath to calm himself. When he had first signed on with the Cresties, the media team had insisted that they take his phone so that they could manage his online presence and respond to anyone reaching out to him. It had made sense at the time and allowed him to focus on his training. However, he had begun to wonder if he would ever get it back since his contract had been terminated. Pausing for a moment, the doctor let go of the string and reached into one of his harness pouches and pulled out the familiar device. It had been sealed inside a ziplock bag, and when Meegi took it from the drake, it was quickly apparent that the battery was flat. Tapping on the screen a few more times to be sure, Meegi gave up and tossed it beside his cushions.

Looking back at the dragon, Meegi couldn't help but notice the similarities and differences in the dragon's colours compared to his own. The shade of green scales that adorned the doctor's body was far darker than his, but the tan that ran down his muzzle and underside was incredibly close to the same colour as Meegi's body. With the addition of the lime green bands that wrapped partially around Meegi's neck, and with his scales having the smallest hints of the same green flecked through them, Meegi's mind had been wandering ever since he had met the doctor. “Are you sure you've never worked for drag’n’drop?” Meegi asked and was met with a small smirk on the drake's lips.

“No, Meegi, I haven't. You've asked me before, and I feel like I'd remember that,” Keenis chuckled and glanced towards him briefly as he worked further down the splint. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” Meegi lied. When he had met the green drake and learned he could do magic, Meegi had asked his mother if she recognised him at all and was genuinely disappointed when she didn't. When the doctor looked back at him with a raised eyeridge, Meegi took a deep breath and explained. “My father worked for them and, well… I was just wondering… similar colours and all that,” he said sheepishly and refrained from adding that they could both do magic. He knew that doctors had to stay confidential, but it wasn't worth the risk.

Thankfully, the drake didn't seem to take offence and shook his head. Pausing what he was doing, Keenis craned his neck to one side to read the paperwork that hung off the end of Meegi's bed. “Your mother seems very nice, but no. Back then, I was…” his words drifted off as he thought back before nodding his head. “Yeah, working here and in a loving relationship with my mate. Sorry.”

Meegi waved his paw to dismiss the topic and lowered his head to his pillows. “It's fine, just a thought,” he mused, but his tone must have tipped off the doctor to the loneliness he was feeling.

“I bet he would have been proud of you though, flying for the Cresties and all that,” Keenis replied and shuffled back slightly as he worked the thread over the knuckle in Meegi's wing finger. “That is pretty epic stuff. I know I'd be chuffed if you were my egg,” he added, making Meegi smile a polite yet honest smile. Humming briefly in thanks, Meegi’s mind began to wander to what his mysterious father would think if he knew that his one-night stand had once been on every screen in every sports bar across the country.

“Thoughts on what you're going to do next?” Keenis asked as the string snapped again and he collected the bottle from beside Meegi's paw. Lifting up the splint, he squirted more of the cold liquid down between the polymer and Meegi's wing before getting more of the cutting string. “A handsome drake like yourself doesn't seem the type to be idle for long,” he added and glanced towards Meegi's eyes.

“I honestly have no idea,” Meegi said truthfully. “Flying for the Cresties… well, I don't know… that was my dream since I could fly,” he added, and the drake seemed to understand what he was trying to say and nodded sympathetically.

“I wouldn't dwell on it too much. You're young, you don't need to have it all planned out today,” Keenis mused and shuffled his wings closer to his body. “When I was your age, I got discharged from the corps and had to start everything again,” he added and sawed the string with faster strokes of his paws. “It won't be easy, but nothing good ever is, right?”

“I guess… you were in the Marines?” Meegi asked in fascination and nodded respectfully when the drake dipped his head. “That's cool, what was that like?”

“The best, worst job I've ever had,” Keenis said with a defeated sigh and curled his tail around his hind paws as he sat on his haunches. “It was the cheapest way for me to become a doctor, and that was always the goal. But here I am, looking after a superstar like yourself. I'd much rather be doing this than… that. Don't take my life as the manual for yours, though. You will do brilliantly at whatever you set your sights on,” he added in a way that made it clear he was done talking about his past.

“Thanks, Dad,” Meegi joked and smirked when the drake jerked and turned his head towards him. His smile made the doctor roll his eyes and refocus on the task at hand. “Maybe I'll do some travelling or something.”

“Seeing the world is always good. I can recommend Bali. Beautiful beaches, and I don't know what it is about the sun there, but it just feels so much better on the scales. Although maybe it's just the humidity,” Keenis replied and tugged back on the string one last time. The pressure on his wing finger intensified briefly before it gave way and the top half of the splint slipped off.

Lifting his head and looking down the length of his wing, Meegi immediately recoiled as he saw flecks of blue dotting along the top of his wing finger. It took him a few seconds to realise that it was just residual glue and was glad when they began to come off as the drake rubbed at them with an alcohol-soaked cloth. Now all that remained was the other half of the plastic tube clinging to the underside of his flight surface, and then his wings would be completely unrestrained, the same of which couldn't be said for his leg, which still needed the cast to heal.