rubbed her antennae against Shioni’s face. A Fiuri hug? Brushing Shioni’s tears away with her thumbs, she said, “Little flower, don’t worry. We’re friends. It’ll come back, you’ll see.”
As if this were a secret signal, the Fiuri suddenly fell to freeing her from the Glue-Slap plant, making a flurry of cheerful and downright nonsensical comments. To her relief, a name eventually popped into her mind.
“I’m Shioni,” she burst out.
The Fiuri glanced at each other. Chardal said, “That’s not a Fiuri name.”
“It is! It’s my name!”
“Shion elle is a Fiuri name,” said Chardal, as if there were no argument to be had. “You must be called Shionelle.”
Shioni sniffed hugely. She could not even use her arms to wipe her nose. But now, the cloth tickled along the back of her right arm and suddenly she sagged away from the strange, huge-leafed plant, yanking her broken arm out of position. Shioni screamed. The pain was so intense, it blinded her. Iridelle held her gently as Viridelle and Chardal freed her wings and legs.
Dimly, she heard Viri say, “This is crazy, Char. She has four wings. Four! Where on Fiuriel is she from?”
“Ew!” Iri complained. “Now I’ve got glue on my wings, too.”
“You silly larva,” said Viri.
“Oh, I’ve heard of Fiuriel,” said Shioni. “I think I might come from somewhere else.”
“Of course you’ve heard of Fiuriel, you’re not a larva,” said Viridelle, giving her a droll look. “Iri, do you have spare shorts?”
“Just a wing-flip,” said Iridelle, laying Shioni down on a patch of ferociously emerald-coloured moss. “Little petal, you need to take the pain away while we adjust your arm and set it.”
“Heal myself? I don’t recall–how do you do that?”
“I’m strong enough,” said Chardal.
The boy-Fiuri lowered his head, concentrating deeply. His antennae twitched and glistened as if tiny stars teemed beneath his skin. He ran his hands deliberately along Shioni’s arm. Suddenly, her limb felt warm and heavy, while a tingling sensation began deep beneath her skin, as though hidden caterpillars had begun to crawl over each other.
Standing near Shioni’s feet to oversee the process, Viridelle teased her twin about packing everything including her personal hammock flower.
“Have to be responsible for my little sister,” Iridelle teased back. “You’d forget to pack your wings if I didn’t remind you.”
Her eyes ached. Shioni could not see anything properly, only the leaves above her and a few plants nearby. Nothing looked familiar.
“Oh, purple flowers!” laughed Viri. “Those shorts are big enough for ten of her, Iri.”
“Give me your belt, then.”
Now Shioni understood what the awkward pause had been about. The Fiuri all wore shorts. Iridelle’s shorts were large and sported a number of pouches and pockets for tools or weapons. Chardal wore mid-calf trousers. Quills and pots bulged out of his pockets. And Viridelle wore a shorter, more stylish pair of shorts that came to mid-thigh and had a belt with a dagger, a sling and several other pouches for unknown purposes.
Iridelle’s spare shorts covered her like a sack. Only a belt would keep them from falling right off.
“How can she have four wings and no colour?” Chardal puzzled.
“Interrupted pupation?”
Char glared at Viridelle. “What larva-level nonsense are you spouting? You’re supposed to be a certified Green Hunter.”
“I am certified. You explain it, Char. What’re you suggesting–a double pupation?”
Chardal rolled his eyes extravagantly. “Ignoramus.”
“I heard that!”
“What’s a pupation?” asked Shioni.
“Oh, my wings!” cried Iridelle. Everyone jumped. “I know what she’s got!”
Viridelle flicked her wings toward her sister. “What, Iri?“
“Am-am–” she screwed up her face, “–amnosia!”
Briefly, silence fell on the little gathering. Then Viridelle’s laughter burst forth like a wild waterfall.