Dale had never seen wings as vibrant as hers, and he saw all sorts casually passing in the library halls. Many university students went there for some quiet in this stimulating industrial city. Sometimes, in books, he saw wings like hers. Dale had to ask what kind of feathers they were.

“I’m not sure; that’s why I’m here. Do you know where I could find books on birds, particularly picture books?” She asked him.

“Oh, actually, I don’t work here. I just look like I belong, I suppose,” Dale said, “but lucky for you, I’m super into birds. I mean—I study them. The mutation. Not… like that... I find it very interesting. My dad also studied the same thing for a while. He doesn’t have wings either,” As Dale spoke, she simply nodded along. He could sense the air grow stiff as he rambled. He cleared his throat. “Anyways, there are some books I already have pulled out on the table; if you want, I can help you look through them to find out what kind of wings you have!” The lady smiled.

“Sure, that would be great.” She responded.

“Great! Follow me this way!” Dale said excitedly, not lingering in the tension. He led her to the center of the library, where a stack of books was ready for that day. The library was small, with a small fraction of that being books from the old world. Most were rewritten from memory or by completely new authors of Terra. No one expected humans to evolve in such a drastic way, so books about birds were not at the top of the priority list when evacuating. There were plenty of books on animals of the Old World, but finding much on a specific animal was difficult. Digital copies still existed, but the technology to read those files was all but lost. Experts worked on extracting that information. He looked at the top few books, put them on the table, and took the rest in his arms.

“These are more southern-based birds; your wings look northern. I’ll go get the right ones, but we can start with these,” he said with a smile. She sat down quietly. 

“Okay, thank you. What was your name again?” She asked. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m Dale. You?” He asked.

“Vespera. Thanks again,” Dale nodded as he turned to put his books away. He reached above his head to place one back on the shelf when a library attendant turned the corner, nearly making him topple over. 

“Whoa, where’s the fire, Abby?” Dale asked.

“What? Abby? My name is Audrey. Dale, we’ve known each other for years,” Audrey said, annoyed.

“I know, I’m just jokin’. What’s got your goat?” Dale asked as he watched her sneak past him to peek around the end of the aisle. 

“What's a goat?” 

“It's an old world animal,” 

“I don't get it.”

“I don't either… I think it just means ‘what's wrong'.”

“Oh, well, right now you've got my goat! I'm trying to put books away. Of all things to survive the old world, the Dewey decimal system made it,” she said, irritated. “Did you see that girl? Her wings were amazing! Didn’t you say your dad knew someone with wings like that?” She asked. 

“Oh man, you're right! I don’t think they were red, but it would be a good place to start,” Dale said, scanning the bookshelf for a book on exotic birds. Nothing significant has been published about the mutation in people yet, and Dale wanted to be among the first to do so. For now, he had to work with books about the wings attached to the people.

“I bet she's gotten skarn about them, we don’t see wings like that very often,” She said, looking over to Dale, who had not heard a word she said. She rolled her eyes and looked back over to Vespera. “Ya know, if you took the job here, you could make a living while reading,” Audrey said.

“I don’t want to get stuck here. I’m trying to see the world, finish my paper, ya know?” Dale retorted, pulling a book off the shelf, examining it, and putting it back. 

“You don’t have wings, and you don’t have anything worth trading. How are you traveling the world?” Audrey asked. Dale paused, weighing the book in his hand.

“Touché, my friend,” He said, pulling a relevant book off the shelf. Audrey tore her eyes away from Vespera and looked back at Dale.

“You graduate next year, and I don’t plan on staying here forever either. What, are you going to see this planet without me?” Audrey asked sarcastically. 

“I don’t think I’d make it a mile up the street if I did that,” Dale said, adding another tomb to the pile. 

“Then take the job,” she said finally. Dale groaned.

“I’ll think about it, okay? Shoot…” he said. Audrey smiled at him and walked out of the aisle. Dale took his stack of books and carried them back to the table where Vespera sat. He pulled out a chair and perched on it, putting his feet where his butt was supposed to go. Vespera smirked a little but didn’t comment. 

“Alright, I’ll start looking through these. I’ve got an idea of where to start,” Dale said, flipping open the pages. His dad knew someone with macaw wings, which were rare already, but he never told him much more. His dad said he never knew them well enough to ask questions. So irritating on Dale’s end. He would’ve asked that person at least two or three questions. 

The bird mutation was not unique to Axion. There were reports from around the world of animal mutations occurring within our own species. There were also rumors that some caused disabilities ranging from mild to terminal. This connection is what interested Dale. His father used a wheelchair, and Dale himself had extremely long appendages, making walking and climbing an easy skill to learn as a child. His parents said he would perch on banisters to scare them at only five. However, with this, he also inherited terrible joint pain in his knees, ankles, and hips. Long walks on the beach were outside his future. But that wouldn't stop him from trying. Maybe that’s why he found a second home at the library, where he could read about magical places he could visit one day. And learn about birds to try to prevent future generations from having the problems of today. 

He hoped the war would end soon. For many reasons, one of which is the border between Axion and North Axis. He heard that long ago, first generation nesters-old, the border was open and people could freely travel between the continents. However, once the war started, all travel outside of Axion was banned. People with wings have tried to cross, only to be snubbed out for entering foreign territory or drowning in the ocean, not having enough stamina to cross. The forest was still taboo, and people were nervous about flying over it. Whereas some birds can fly for hours without tiring, humans are still limited by their stamina and endurance. As a species, wings must be strengthened and used like any other muscle. Well, that hasn’t been proven yet, but to Dale, that seemed obvious. The more often you fly, the further you can fly. 

He wondered if that was how disability cases after the shift happened, by limiting flight based on societal norms. If children of winged parents who did not utilize their ability inherit a disability instead of wings. Or if the non-use of wings in general caused wingrot. That didn’t feel like speculation anymore. It felt like something waiting to be proven. Humans don’t lose their hands if they decide they never want to write again, but their muscles will become weak and will be more difficult to relearn.

If they experience shell shock from a young age, does that affect the development of wings? On average, people shift from ages twelve to nineteen. That said, about three-fourths of the minority that develop a disability have it from birth. The other quarter developed during their shift, never fully finishing their development. It couldn’t be random. Nothing that consistent ever was.

“Did you find something?” Vespera tilted her head, “You look deep in thought.” 

“Oh, yeah, just… Fuck the war, ya know? Anyways, look at this,” He flipped his book around to show Vespera the page. She gave him a surprised look but turned to the book. It was a picture book, as she requested. It was more of a nature magazine, and on the page was an image of a Scarlet Macaw. He began reading the short article next to the image out loud. 

Scarlet Macaws are the biggest parrots in the world! From beak to tail, they can reach up to 33 inches long. They are mostly left-footed, using their left foot to hold food while the right keeps them balanced. They can even use their powerful beaks to open coconuts! Like most varieties of macaw, Scarlet Macaws are monogamous, mating only once for their very long lives. On average, they can live between forty and fifty years in the wild. 

“This must be it!” Vespera whispered excitedly. Her wings fluffed in response, causing Dale to smile. 

“What do you think? I mean, it's only one picture, but the feathers are incredibly similar,” Dale offered.

“Yes, I know. I can almost feel it. It’s like… Meeting someone you know will be in your life for a while. Except, it’s me discovering… Myself? It’s all confusing…” Vespera trailed off, her excited demeanor wearing off almost immediately. 

“Hey, hey! Why the long face? This feels like it should be major for you!” Dale asked with genuine concern.

“It’s just a lot of emotions. I’m okay. I mean, we found it in record time! You found it, I should say. My Scarlet Macaw wings!” She said, a light returning to her eyes. 

“Teamwork, I’m glad I could help. If you ever have bird questions, you know who to ask for!” Dale said with a thumbs up. 

“I thought you didn’t work here?” Vespera asked.

“Oh yeah, I guess I do now,” Dale said thoughtfully. Vespera chuckled. 

“Alright, congratulations on the job. I think I’m going to take this book with me. Maybe I’ll come back tomorrow for a new one. Thanks, Dale!” 

“Please call me The Raven. It’s a nickname I’m trying out!” Dale said. 

“Yeah, okay! I’m not going to do that. See you later!” Vespera grabbed the magazine and waved goodbye. Dale waved back and sighed, looking at all the books he had pulled out. He’d only gone through a couple. If he looked some more, he might find more information. He grabbed the next book from the pile and flipped open the pages, delving into what would be his focus for the day. 

“What, so, so did you ever love mom? Was it always about Vespa’s mom… what's her name again?” Dale asked his dad.

“Regina,” Tristan said, “and it was never about her. I don’t know why I’m even telling you this!” 

“Maybe because you made Vespa's wedding weird, Dad! That was so not cool! I was focused on your slackjaw the whole time I was officiating. Super distracting!” Dale argued.

“Oh, the wedding was a month ago. No one remembers anymore,”

“I do! She does! She’s asking her mom the same thing right now,” 

“Fine, fine! I just… I was very young. What happened between us… It's why I joined the church,” he started. 

“Whoa,” Dale said, plopping down on the couch beside his dad, “tell me about it,” he offered. His dad sighed. 

“First of all, I love your mother very, very much, so don’t ever say that again. You can love more than one person in your life; I think most people do; it's normal. Regina and I were never in a relationship, per se, but we loved each other very much. And together…” Tristan trailed off. He rubbed his thighs, thinking. 

“And? Come on, Dad, if you keep stalling, I’ll ask her myself!” Dale proclaimed, standing up on the couch and crossing his arms. He failed at trying to look intimidating, but what he lacked in looks, he made up for in promises. Dale has never known himself to tell a lie, and his dad knew that. 

“Alright, cool down. Sit, sit. It was a long time ago. I haven’t talked about this stuff in ages. Give me a second to remember,” Tristan said. Dale plopped down again, this time keeping his arms crossed.

“Ready when you are,” Dale said. His father glared at him familiarly. 

“We both loved each other, like family, but we also loved the same person. His name was Clio. Clio Charles Valient."

"Valient? Like the Blackrock Valient's?" Dale asked. Tristan nodded.

"Regina took his last name after they got married,” His father began. He told him about how they had to get married for safety. Clio was the one with Green Macaw Wings, which raised so many questions. Does that mean bird traits are being passed down genetically? If so, why was one Scarlett and the other Green? It was too much to think about while listening to his father’s story, but he would have to ask questions another time. 

He told him about Regina kicking him out of the house after Clio’s death. That and his grandfather's passing made him deeply depressed. He struggled for a year after dropping out of college. As a severely disabled individual, work was challenging to come by. He sought refuge at the church, where he ‘confessed’ his sins. He stayed with them for ten years, and that is where he met Dale’s mother. They got married, and she got pregnant a year later. They left the church together, disagreeing with the rhetoric the church was spitting out about winged people, something like them being spawns of the Deep Sea god. Or was it that they hatched from a huge egg under Lake Halon? Dale has since left the church, too, despite his parents still attending occasionally.

After leaving, he finished his degree and continued the research he started when he met Clio. 

“I’m retired now. I’ve pushed my body about as far as it’ll take me. And seeing Regina at that wedding was like hearing that door slam for the first time. Clio was… Ours. After he died, we didn’t know who we were without him.” Tristan concluded. Dale was crying ugly tears at this point, wiping his boogers with his sleeve. 

“Oh, come on, Dale. I know it’s not the happiest story, but look where it got me! A wonderful wife, a brilliant son, a roof over our heads. I ended up doing okay,” Tristan said, scooting closer to his son and placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“No, Dad, it’s not that. Regina's really sick. That’s why Vespa moved back south,” Dale squeaked out. 

“Our bones are being modified, they're… Not as dense as they used to be. It’s like they’re more flexible,” Dale said to the room full of students.

“We’ve observed that people who develop these bird-like qualities have DNA that is being rewritten as they age. And there seems to be a strong correlation between the disability crisis and the development of wings. Do you have any guesses as to why?” The room was silent to the rhetorical question.

“That's right, we aren’t sure. But here is what I've discovered.

The development is still so new in the scientific field that most papers have not yet been reviewed for publication. My leading theory is all but confirmed, but further studies are needed. All mutations are genetic; a mutation would have the same mutation as the parent. Any given hybrid has dominant genes, producing offspring with a similar mutation at an astounding seventy-eight percent. However, this does not mean a direct copy. Avian species produce avian species; a crow variant can have a raven offspring. The reason remains unclear, perhaps due to the environment or a mix of genetic material. It has also been noted that two hybrids of the same hybrid-type, such as two scarlet macaws, can produce children that have feathers at birth.

The individuals who developed or were born with certain disabilities may be from their bodies rejecting the wing transformation. To be clear, these individuals studied had one or both chimera parents. Human disabilities are not my specialty. It seems their more human DNA is overpowering that of the more dominant hybrid DNA,” Dale cleared his throat and flipped the page of his book. He looked up and saw a raised hand. Thank the Gods, some participation. 

“Yes, on the right, your question?” he asked. The student stood up, revealing that he had very distinct hawk wings, but in the glare of the lights, he couldn’t tell what type they were. 

“Why have only some people developed wings?” the young man asked. 

“Great question! Maybe you’ll be the scientist to discover that very thing!” he said. The student remained standing. “Another question?” The professor asked. 

“Do you think people with predator wings… Are they meant to be dangerous?” He asked, tucking his feathers as far behind him as he could. The air in the classroom shifted uncomfortably. Dale rocked back and forth, from his toes to his heels. 

“There is no denying that recent trends have shown more attacks from people developing predator wings,” he said carefully, “but we don’t have evidence for that. Fear tends to look for patterns where none exist... Best not to feed rumors. Now, let's move on,” Dale concluded, feeling satisfied with the answer he gave. The student sat back down slowly, clearly not satisfied with the answer he got.

After work, he took his short walk home, taking in the city. The Blackrock of his youth seemed far away as the city grew in size to just over a quarter million people. The buildings seemed to grow taller, doorways wider. Despite the initial resistance to wings, he saw small improvements everywhere, consciously made or not. It made him smile. Change comes when it wants, his dad would say. 

He opens the door to arguing in the kitchen. 

“Mom, mom! You're making a mess!” Geoff cried out. Even though he was an adult now, he still acted like a child when he was home with his parents. His wife giggled as she threw flour at Geoff's face. 

“Did I not teach you how to make pasta? You have to make a mess!” Audrey retorted. They both laughed and turned to face the door as Dale closed it. His knees hurt from standing all day, and he quickly went to sit. 

“Hey, Dad! We're making dinner! Grandpa is coming by later.”

“Making it or wearing it?” Dale retorted. Geoff chuckled. 

“You can do both,” he said. Dale laughed as he took off his shoes. 

“You sure can!” His wife said, coming up from behind and lightly tossing some flour on his face. 

“Hey! Get over here!” He said jokingly as he rose to chase her into the kitchen. He grabbed her waist from behind and pulled her close, rubbing his face against hers to transfer the flour. 

“Ah! No!” She said, giggling. Dale kissed her on the cheek and let her go. 

“Gross,” Geoff said, mixing the pasta dough by hand.

“Lucky,” Dale stated, looking lovingly at his family. He decided the mess was worth it.