Miro sat in Avynne’s tree, moodily staring at the ground. The too-tall grass below gently waved in the faint breeze coming up from Caro Lias, tangling with themselves. There wasn’t much in the way of animals nearby, but it could clearly taste the smell of insects and small birds flitting around.

It had been a week since Olivai left. Miro hadn’t moved much since then, only hopping off of the branch it’d chosen to eat some grass. It didn’t taste good, but it didn’t taste bad either. At least it didn’t taste anything like Bordi’s food.

The branch felt bigger than before. Had it grown, or had Miro shrunk? It’d hardly been eating the same food. If it had shrunk, Miro wasn’t sure it disliked having lost weight. It meant Avynne could carry it a little easier, and its thoughts seemed noticeably sharper besides.

Along with its new mental faculties came sharper tastes. It could even smell something as flat as grass for a good distance around Avynne’s tree, some way beyond the shrubbery strangling the ground.

Miro couldn’t figure out why Olivai had left. She’d said it hadn’t been personal, and she’d said that Miro wasn’t useless or helpless or any of its old worries. She’d just been… bored.

How could it fix that?

A new smell entered Miro’s radius, the simmering savor of Avynne’s flavor approaching from the sky, and Miro focused on her. It sensed more than saw her wings hard at work, carrying her over the gentle gusts sweeping through the grass below and pushing against the stronger winds above.

A few seconds later, Miro smelled something else.

Avynne came into sight and dove for her tree, flaring her wings out to slow herself down, and then gripped one of the branches with her talons, digging into the bark. A familiar white bag was in her beak, and with her wings free, she removed it.

“Miro?” She called quietly, looking around the tree for the disconsolate slime. Miro slid into a smaller crevice, trying to avoid letting her see it.

She spotted Miro almost immediately, and carefully jumped across the branches towards it. Crouching in front of the nook in the tree, she softly asked, “Would you like a treat?”

Miro shrank back a little further, and her shoulders slumped. “I got you some tarts,” She whispered, her voice breaking. “Don’t you like those?”

It did. And it wished it could tell her that the problem wasn’t food. It didn’t want tarts because it was reminded of Olivai every time it so much as smelled them, and it wanted nothing less than to think of Olivai.

It couldn’t stop going over that moment in its mind.

Why did she leave? Why did she have to go? What was so important that she couldn’t bring Miro with her?

Why did it hurt so much?

Fluffing her feathers, Avynne tucked the bag into one of the many nests in her tree and sat down next to Miro’s crack. She soberly stared over the rustling treetops, her eyes somber. Even Miro, for all the little experience it had with people, could tell she was deep in thought.

She sighed loudly, almost startling Miro out of its nook. “I think I might be angry at Olivai.”

Miro stared at her, more than a little surprised. Why would she be angry at her? It wasn’t Olivai’s fault she’d had to go. It was…

Wait, whose fault was it?

Miro nearly fell into panic. The blame had to land on somebody, right? There had to be a reason it felt the way it did!

Avynne reached into the crevice. Miro chirped in protest, but didn’t resist her gentle claws as she pulled it out and set it on her lap. She leaned over it until her shirt was pressing against its top, warmth enveloping Miro from every side.

It was comfortable.

In spite of its glum mood, Miro snuggled a little deeper into her wings, and she gently squeezed it. Setting her head on top of it, she fell silent and just held onto it.

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Clouds were rolling in, heavy gray ones budding with rain. The sun was gradually covered up as they slowly swept over the world, draping everything in hues of blue. A damp, fresh scent filled the air as the storm approached, and Miro felt the tension begin to drain out of its gel.

“I don’t know why Olivai had to go,” Avynne said. Miro deflated slightly at the mention of Olivai, but Avynne wasn’t done talking. “I don’t know why she wanted to stop taking care of you, either. But…”

She lifted her head so she could look at Miro a little better. “I’m still here. I want to take care of you! I want to show you nice things to eat, and how to make money, and how to fight for yourself, and…” She trailed off.

Miro stared at her, stunned. Did she really think it was worth all that much?

“I don’t know,” She finished with a sigh. “I just know you have so much ahead of you. I want to be there with you.”

Miro stared up at her. She thought it was worth something? How could it have anything ahead of it? And why would she want to be with it?

Everyone had left it at some point. The wizard who had summoned it left in minutes. Olivai had left after two weeks. But Avynne was contradicting that. She was offering to stay for longer. Forever, maybe.

Miro had no idea what to call that. Was there even a word for it?

Reaching behind her, Avynne took the white bag and set it next to her, pulling a breaded pastry out. “Do you want one? They’re called fritteens.”

When Miro didn’t move, Avynne put it in her beak and started chewing. Miro started, almost offended that she’d eaten it instead, but then remembered it didn’t want to like Bordi’s food. It was basically Olivai’s food, after all.

Avynne swallowed and daintily wiped her beak with a wing. “It’s quite tasty,” She innocently said, and Miro stole a look at the bag. Grass suddenly seemed unappetizing in the extreme.

Removing another tart, Avynne rested her claws on the branch temptingly close to Miro, looking off into the sky. It would be so easy to grab it and shove it in its mouth.

Miro resisted, although at this point it was beginning to wonder why. How was Olivai connected to Bordi’s? She wasn’t his only customer - Avynne had gone and bought some without Olivai being there, after all.

Avynne sighed, the pleasantry gone from her tone. “I know you’re hungry,” She told it, and Miro froze guiltily. She looked down at it, her body language radiating hurt. “I can’t be Olivai, Miro. I don’t - I can’t replace her!”

Miro felt a salty drop hit its surface and it nearly panicked. Seizing the tart, it hastily shoved it into its mouth and chewed as quickly and loudly as it could, hoping Avynne would be satisfied.

She buried her head in her wings, shoulders heaving. “I don’t know how to be anything like her! I don’t know blessings, I c-can’t do magic - I can’t even catch a dwarf!”

Inflating slightly, Miro tried to hug as much of Avynne as it possibly could. She didn’t seem to notice. “She… She’s powerful, and she knows how to do so much, and all I know how to do is…” She sighed, folding her wings on top of Miro and planting her face squarely in her feathers. “I can only put lamps out.”

Miro stared at her, desperately wishing that it could talk. She did so much more than put streetlamps out!

It inhaled deeply, trying to find a way to tell her what she meant to it. It hadn’t known her for very long, but she was so kind to it! And… and everyone!

It felt something well up inside it. Not like the strange phenomenon that had happened some time ago, with the external liquid. This was more like a combination of frustration and hope and feelings it didn’t know the names of.

Miro tasted something.

It wasn’t tasty at all. It was the purest thing it’d ever known, even more so than Olivai’s spell, but it was covered by a painfully sour and bitter sensation, along with burning feathers. It wasn’t a feeling Miro received through its mouth - it felt like it came straight in through its gel.

It was so close and terrifyingly exposed that Miro almost felt ashamed to be next to it, but at the same time… it was one of the most incredible things it’d ever felt.

Was this… was this Avynne?

Acting on instinct, Miro pushed, sending what it wished it could say.

Avynne’s head snapped up, eyes wide, and the Taste spiked. She stared down at Miro, the stubby feathers under her eyes damp with tears. Wiping them away with her wings, she squinted at it. “Was that you?”

Hesitantly, warily, Miro tried it again. The Taste had changed somewhat, fainter and stranger than it’d been previously. It pushed its feelings towards the Taste again, trying to see if the result would change.

Avynne’s eyes widened further, and she nearly started crying. Wiping her eyes again, she asked, “H-how are you doing that?”

Miro didn’t have the slightest clue. Its uncertainty brushed up against the Taste, and Avynne flinched. Shutting its… inner mouth, Miro cut the connection off, and she shivered.

It started raining.

Scooting under the umbrella canopy of her tree, Avynne pulled Miro out from the droplets gently hammering on the leaves. It shrank slightly, its willpower draining away. It hadn’t noticed it was taking so much effort.

“I felt… what you were trying to tell me,” Avynne whispered. Miro almost didn’t hear her over the rain, but looked up at her.

She hugged Miro tightly, causing its gel to distend. “Thank you.”

Miro didn’t mind the squeeze. It was worth it.