“It’s times like this that I’m glad you can’t understand me. I just need a few minutes to get myself together, and whatever I say until then will probably be stupid.”

  Missy was on her bed, wings spread lazily. Snatcher sat on the cushy surface beside her, watching her paint strokes in the air above. “Maybe the whole plan is terrible. Maybe it’ll turn out that you’re just too far above me to understand what I mean. But I’m stuck between letting Kip starve and costing him his freedom, and you’re my only other option. I know it’s practically a sacred rule to stay far away from angels if you want them to stay far away from you, but I think I’ve broken that about as badly as it can be broken, and at this point I need your help.”

  He looked at Missy, and she caught his eye and smiled. She looked every inch a radiant angel, a little shy and silly sometimes, but overall a creature of goodness. She had never intentionally hurt him, in spite of having had a million opportunities to cause him pain. Even so, it was hard to not feel apprehensive when every other attempt at communicating with an angel or trying to show it intelligence had ended with the human either kidnapped or reduced to a charred skeleton.

  But whether he worried or not, she was putting the finishing strokes on her painting. Taking a deep breath for courage, he picked his way over and took up the discarded paintbrush. Missy glanced down, more interested in studying her painting than in him. He tried to get a better grip and struggled to lift the bristled end. His first attempt to drag it through the air ended with a stumble, and she nuzzled him, amused. Grumbling, he waited for her to back off. “Again, here goes nothing,” he gritted his teeth.

  Focusing on the paintbrush, he drew a circle and a line in the air. With a few more strokes, he’d added some very simplified wings, echoing the figures his clan’s shaman used to draw on the walls of their cave. Missy’s attention had been secured by the time he started on the halo. Then, partway through the dress, his strength began to falter. The brush slipped and a large blue line slashed across the painting.

  “No!” A massive claw seized the brush before he could recover it. “Can’t you see what I’m doing?” he shouted, trying to grab it back. She held him away easily. Of course she didn’t understand. She saw him as nothing more than a tiny, squeaking pet. Clever perhaps, but not intelligent.

  “Give me a chance to finish!” he pleaded. “Just let me—“

  She handed him a single bristle of the paintbrush, dripping with a bead of blue paint. It fit easily in his hands, and was light enough to handle comfortably. She waited for him to use it, her dozens of eyes focused on him.

  With a small gulp, Snatcher held the bristle in front of him. But he’d already gone this far, and he couldn’t take it back now. Leaning over, Snatcher finished his painting. He gestured at it and then looked back at Missy. “It’s you, see?” he said. “I have a mind, same as you.” Please don’t think it’s just a neat trick, he prayed silently.

  She studied it, seemingly unable make up her mind. And then…

  …she pocketed the painting, and picked up Snatcher.

  He struggled wildly as he was popped into the carrier and threw himself against the bars when the door shut. “I thought we had an understanding!” he yelled as she lifted off. This was the part where she would take him to the shelter to live out his days staring out of a cramped cage, or maybe to the vet to be Adjusted into oblivion. How could he have trusted her? He couldn’t have an understanding with an angel any more than he could with the passage of the sun or the rising of the tides.

  He rolled against the wall of the carrier when they landed. Jostled around, he folded as much as he could to protect himself as Missy stepped through the doorway. All around, Snatcher could see the pale blue walls of a dreadfully familiar room, covered in pictures of smiling angels and their vacant-eyed pets. They had entered the vet’s office.

  There was room enough to lie on his back or get up on all fours in the carrier, but not for much else. Snatcher peered through the bars. Several other carriers rested nearby, and all the faces he could see looked scared, nervous, or resigned. Nobody made any sound except for one little girl, who couldn’t have been more than eight years old. She kept whimpering and scratching her head over and over. Her angel patted the carrier and roared softly.

  He turned his gaze to the other side of the room, where two dragons scratched at the air to get to one another, straining against their leashes. In the corner, a single, kite-like sky krait pressed itself against the ceiling. Snatcher watched it in awe for a moment before realizing that he hadn’t been mesmerized. When it coiled defensively a moment later, he saw the reason why: its hypnotic tail had been excised.

  There had to be a way out of the carrier. There had to be a way to escape, or surely he’d be given a Behavioral Adjustment that would leave him able only to sit around and smile until he was old enough to be euthanized. Rolling onto his stomach, Snatcher pushed up on the latch. He hadn’t had an opportunity to study the carrier’s lock as well as the cage’s, but he could figure it out—it surely couldn’t be much different from the cage at home and even if not, he was smarter than most tame humans, not having generations of selective breeding wearing down his intelligence. He could figure this out. Once it opened, he would have only a few seconds to scramble out and run to…the closed door? The fighting dragons? Even if he did get out, how could he find and help Kip? There was no escape, not now and not ever.

  “Just let me go!” Snatcher screamed, throwing open the latch. He kept screaming, even as the other caged humans watched him sprint across the tiled floor, even as the angel entering through the door looked down in bewilderment, even as the vet’s claws closed around him.

  He didn’t stop screaming until the older angel had spoken kindly to Missy and ushered her into his room to hear her version of the events. Even then, Snatcher would have probably kept it up, but it was difficult to do when his jaw was being held shut. The vet waited patiently for him to calm down.

  Snatcher looked up at the angel, his gaze filled with hatred. “Damn you,” he growled.

  The angel studied him closely. It wasn’t the same vet as last time—this one’s skin was like fluid copper and he looked much older. “I forgive you, for you are afraid and know not what you say.” Although its mouth never moved, Snatcher heard the silent words as clearly as his own thoughts.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Snatcher’s mouth went dry. “How can you speak?”

  “To you, specifically?” The angel gave a thin smile. “I consider it one of time’s many gifts. Few have been here as long as I, and fewer still care to spend such time studying the wild variety of your kind. You’d be amazed at how much you can pick up in a thousand years.”

  “Then—if you can understand, you must realize…”

  He trailed off, because the vet was smiling. “Of course we know you can talk, or at least your wild variety can. It’s just that we don’t usually come into contact with you, so there’s typically no need to interact.”

  He set Snatcher down on a scale and gave him a small pat. As the angel turned to gather his tools, Snatcher looked around the room. The pale blue walls offered no escape. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, refusing to betray his fear.

  “One hundred and fifty pounds—you’ve been putting on some healthy weight since your last visit. Excellent,” the angel said. He took Snatcher off the scale. “Why am I doing what? I am here to help you. There’s no need to be afraid, see?” Before Snatcher could get in a word of protest, the vet picked him up and popped a thermometer into his mouth. “Now, your owner tells me you were exhibiting some concerning behavior. I realize this is a difficult transition for you, having been used to the dangers of the wild, but both your owner and I want you to be happy here. We know you’ve been trying to be good, so I need you to understand that this isn’t a punishment. She’s not requesting it, but if you think you need an Adjustment or anything else, just let me know and I’m here to help you, okay?”

  He took the thermometer out and smiled again. Snatcher blinked back tears. “So she doesn’t want me to—you’re not forcing me to have a Behavioral Adjustment?”

  “Only if you don’t think you need it.” He fished a treat from his coat and held it in front of Snatcher. “Would you like one? My little Jewel at home can’t get enough of these.”

  He took a small bite. It was fluffy and sweet, but it still seemed to drop through his stomach like a stone. He shook his head, and the vet put him on the floor so he could stretch. “Hey, um, sir?” he asked.

  “Call me Gloriel,” the angel replied. “Yes?”

  “Did I do something wrong?” He looked way, way up at the angels. “I just mean, if you know we’re intelligent, why do you treat us like this? With all the Behavioral Adjustments and the cages and the fact you incinerate us out in the wild, it just makes me wonder, if you really want to help, why are you doing this?”

  The vet looked sympathetic. “Tell me, little one, do you truly think so highly of yourself? You’re not loved for it any less, but you’re not the only clever animal to have used tools or formed a social group. I’ve looked through the thoughts of many beings, but if I tried to share more than a fraction of my mind with any of them, including you, they would be washed away.” Snatcher looked up at the celestial terror, and was silent. “And as for incinerating the wild ones, well, when has that happened unprovoked? We only harm you when you invade our lands and steal our food.”

  “We’re starving! We have no other choice!”

  “Then you should admit that you cannot fend for yourselves, and surrender to those who can. We can give you safety if only you accept it.”

  “Safety behind bars,” he muttered.

  Gloriel put him back on the counter and lay him on his side to check his racing heartbeat. “Your owner’s heart was in the right place when she wanted to keep you unmodified, but I would’ve advised against it, especially seeing why we’re here now.” He turned to pick up some more tools, but Snatcher could still feel the onyx eyes on Gloriel’s halo watching him. “Honestly, it is unfortunate that your lives are so brief, or you may very well have taken some steps toward true intelligence. Every time we’ve seen you control your own lives and do as you please, you invariably end up slaying one another or overpopulating or otherwise causing yourselves misery. And yet, the number of pets mistreated by us pales in comparison to how much you wilder, more intelligent creatures mistreat yourselves.”

  He patted Snatcher again affectionately and passed him back to Missy to be held. “But in any case,” the vet said, “you’re in perfect physical health, so as long as you keep up the good behavior, I don’t think we need to keep you here further. Okay?” He lapsed into a conversation with Missy, and Snatcher heard the vet’s translation for his sake. “I’m just reminding her that since you were from the wild, it’s natural for you to be a little quirky and not as dependent as a domestic man. But you seem to be adjusting well, so as long as you keep yourself controlled, there’s nothing to be worried about for either of you.”

  Missy growled softly, and the vet looked down at Snatcher. “She’d like to know, did you ask for something?”

  Taken aback by the question, Snatcher squirmed in Missy’s grasp. “What do you mean?”

  “Earlier today, were you trying to tell her something?”

  “Oh, with the picture.” It seemed so long ago, the reason why he’d been sent to the vet wasn’t even on his mind. “My last living friend from the wild just needed some help, but I don’t think he’d want the type of help you can give. He’s long gone anyway, and out of your reach.” I’m sorry I couldn’t do more, Kip. I guess you won’t be finding me at that spot tomorrow, he thought.

  The vet relayed the message, and Missy gave an odd look. She asked another question, which the vet patiently translated. “Are you happy here?”

  Snatcher closed his eyes. On the surface, there was nothing to complain about: he had food, warm clothes, and safety, and he stood a good chance of living considerably longer than out in the wild, even if he would have to be euthanized in the end. And now that he’d been without it for so long, he couldn’t even say that he terribly missed his freedom. The things he loved the most—sunrises, the thrill of a successful hunt, walking along the river with Kip and Jay—he hadn’t even been able to enjoy out in the wild, with every waking moment spent worrying about making it to the next. And even if he could escape, the rest of his clan aside from Kip was dead, and he’d seen how poorly Kip looked after trying to survive alone. They stood a chance of finding a new clan, but Snatcher wasn’t sure he could go back to that life.

  “I am happy here,” he murmured, and it seemed to be the truth. “But if I wanted to be set free, would you let me?”

  Gloriel glanced at Missy and boomed rapidly, translating. Then he focused back on Snatcher. “I’ve never hurt your kind, little one, and I strongly object to those who do. I’ve never incinerated you or left you in a hot cage or crushed you to watch your pretty souls flutter away. I’ve never left out food loaded with poisons, especially not the type that waits to show its effects until long after you’ve deemed it safe and brought it back to be eaten by your starving family. As you can see, I care deeply about your kind, and I wouldn’t willingly let you come to harm. Letting you back into that horrible world would be sentencing you to death. Besides, imagine how much distress you’d be causing your owner, especially after she’s shown you such kindness.” His smile was dazzlingly sincere.

  “That being said,” the vet continued, “I can sympathize. It must be difficult to have just enough intelligence to think you should have more out of life. And when all your fellow pets are happy, simple fools, you must be feeling isolated. So if you feel confined, please let me know. I’d be happy to help free you from that restless mind.”

  Like most people, Missy didn’t like to see her pets looking uncomfortable. She quietly packed Snatcher up, paid the vet’s fee, and went home. As soon as they landed, she let Snatcher out, handed him a paintbrush bristle, and eagerly awaited to see what he would show her. Amazed that he’d secured the angel’s attention, Snatcher drew up her everything he could about his situation and Kip. His hand hurt terribly by the end of the evening, but when the door to his cage was closed at last, he knew that he could rest easy. As he nestled into the blankets, next to the coil of string that Missy had provided in case he needed to make an emergency exit at night, he knew that Kip would be helped but not kept captive. His life would be secured, at least until the end of the winter. After that, for better or worse, his friend’s life was his own.

  With those thoughts, Snatcher drifted into the lullaby of the night birds, the bars of his cage closed around him like a gentle embrace.