The Wing-Mender’s Nest

In the ruined chapel, Elianora kept a nest for creatures too shy to be born beneath the sun. This one had arrived as a trembling wing and a warm, speckled stone. She held the membrane to the light, searching for tears, while the little thing inside breathed clouds against her wrist. “Not yet,” she murmured. Outside, the forest waited in its green silence. Inside, something dreamed itself a body.