The Forest

-25-

The world tinted blue as Wren was tipped into the container. It was made of a clear and solid substance that they first mistook for glass, then realised upon contact that it was too thin to be crystal.
The human returned the container to the shelf after securing the top, and slid it backwards with the tips of his fingers. Wren didn't dare move. Glass, plastic, whatever it was, the new prison was impenetrable. They knelt frozen, their wings splayed limp either side of them. The human didn't make eye contact. He didn't say anything as he left either, there was no smile or sneer, he wasn't that sort of taunting creature. He simply heaved the metal door to a close and left them to tremble in the emptiness of the cabinet.

There was a click overhead that made Wren jump, then the light abruptly dimmed to the faintest glow. All was quiet.
Wren curled into their knees without bothering to look around. It was cold in the cupboard, yet colder inside the container. Goosebumps were already prickling beneath their robes.
Wren pressed their forehead down on top of their knees, then cocooned their wings around themself. The back of their head still ached after the fall from Amaryllis. But that didn't seem important now. Worser pain would come soon.

They squeezed their eyes shut and tried to fight back the tears.

"Hey."
Wren jumped out of their skin. Their wings smacked the blue glass, hands following as they tried to crawl backwards. They scoured the container for the source of the voice.

A boy sat on the other side of the cylinder. A boy, not a human. He wore nothing but trousers that looked over-worn and creased, his skin tinted blue against the glass. Tawny eyes peeked from beneath curls slick with grease and dirt. Maybe it was curly when clean, but now it fell around his hollowed face in a tangle. He was pressed up against the wall, like Wren, also shivering. Maybe from the cold. Or maybe not.
Wren stared at the boy. He stared back. His chest moved very slowly. Wren could see every one of his ribs flex and deflate. The shadows carved beneath his eyes were deep and purple.

"Hi." He repeated again. Weakened muscles in his throat moved when he spoke.

It took Wren a long while to gather themself from the state of shock. Somehow there was a boy in here, a boy who was speaking to them.
"Hello." Wren managed. A croaky sound. The shadow of a smile flittered on the boy's face.
"You sound freaked." He remarked softly, and his voice sounded somehow worse than their own. Raspy. Sore. Wren tried to process the odd statement.
They carefully relaxed their taut wings to their back, "Can you blame me?" The container made everything bounce, but the sound was too hollow to be called an echo. Wren had every right to be scared. Or... freaked, as he called it.
The boy shrugged his bony shoulders, "He won't hurt you."

Wren watched him for a breath or two. He watched them. Neither spoke.
Eventually, they frowned, "You don't know that."
Again, that ghost of a smile on his pale face. Wren thought there might be freckles somewhere in his shallow cheeks.
"Yeah I do. He's not that kind of human." The boy propped himself up and rapped his knuckle on the wall a few times. It sounded exactly like glass. The clinking sound lingered and he raised his eyebrows, "He calls us samples."
His words mixed with the sharp ping of the clinking plastic.
"Look."
Wren dared glance to where he was pointing. There was backwards writing on a sheet that had been plastered to the wall, almost indiscernible in the dim light. But they could just about make out the word sample.
"He's nabbed us to study." The boy spoke in his hoarse rasp. He looked intently at Wren, "Nothing to study if we're dead."

A cold, wet shiver ran down Wren's back. They began to wonder whether they might prefer the silence to this boy's commentary. Samples.
"You're hurt." They accused faintly. A bandage encircled his arm just above his elbow. That clear injury dashed his assurance that the human wouldn't hurt them. He followed their eyes.
"This?" He held up his arm and looked at the bandage. Again, the slight shrug, "Wasn't deliberate. The uh... what's it called..." he scrunched up his face to try and remember, and Wren thought there might have been a glimpse at what he usually looked like, when he wasn't locked in a plastic case.
"I dunno." He eventually gave up and slumped back down against the wall, "A needle thing did it."
"Needle?" Wren whispered.
The boy nodded halfheartedly.