For all her joking, teasing, and genuine ideas, Pyre still can't put the wings on.

They're brand new, still in the package they were delivered in. Proper, with synthetic skin and muscles and bones, and not just chunks of scrap. The scales covering them were even designed to match the ones on her back.

Rime had them made for her. Had looked Pyre in the eye and told her she could trust her with them.

Pyre still isn't sure.

The last time she had wings…

Landing herself in the hospital and brief legal trouble was far from worth it for wings alone.

It's a foolish fear, Pyre knows. But still it burns in the back of her mind. Whispers in her ear when she's alone. The broiling fear of losing herself again, over a simple gift.

But Rime trusts her.

The one who had been Pyre’s nurse and gave her a chance. Who knew what she was and still took her in.

Most likely not the greatest of beginnings to a relationship, but it was something else that came from that fiasco. Something good.

And Rime trusts her.

Is that all the push she needs?

After everything? Just a little bit of trust will stop her from becoming that again?

Pyre gives her head a firm shake to clear it. Ignoring her thoughts, she focuses on what’s in front of her; the package the wings had come in, still sitting on the dining table. With fresh resolve, she opens the box, already cut by Rime before she left for work hours ago.

No, a small amount of trust wouldn’t magically make everything better. But Rime trusts Pyre, and Pyre trusts Rime.

Out of the box comes a case, and a flick of the latches reveals a padded interior with two folded, draconic wings inside. There was even a cleaning kit for the joints in their own little pocket.

Pyre doesn’t give herself a chance to think twice as she unties her robe. Rime trusts her. Believes in her. She is more than a psycho in a cave. She is Smoldering Pyre.

The robe falls onto the table as Pyre takes the right wing, glances at the metal joint to line it up, and slings it behind her to push it into the waiting socket.

A jolt runs straight through Pyre’s nerves, sending a shiver down her spine. For a moment, she doesn’t recognize the gasp echoing through the house as her own, as focused as she is on repeating the process with the other wing.

Pyre grits her teeth, fighting the second shiver with a growl. Slowly, carefully, she tests the wings, just like she did with her first pair.

Feel the flow of magic, of the senses coming to life. Slowly extend; retract. There are the new feelings, too—of skin and muscle flexing and moving with her brain’s commands. A glance over her shoulder and a flex of her wings brings her left wing into view, scales and leathery membrane and all.

A faint, hopeful smile comes to Pyre’s muzzle as she turns away, reaching for her robe. After a moment of feeling out the cloth, she finds the two zippers she had sewn in so long ago, back in that cave.

With a heavy sigh, she opens the slits and pulls the robe on, carefully fitting her new wings through her robe before she ties it off.

Rime trusts her, believes in her, and had these made for her. The least she can do is test them out.

Pyre heads out through the back door, breathing deep to keep herself calm, screwing her eyes shut in the private safety of the back yard.

She can do this. Breathe. Feel the magic flow in her wings. The wind running through her fur and mane. Spread her wings, and…

Takeoff.

Her wings push her into the air hard, and Pyre’s eyes snap open as she keeps beating her wings, keeps ascending through the air.

Tears come to her eyes, joy unbridled as a loud, pure laugh erupts from her, uncaring of who hears.

Pyre bursts through a large cloud, mist trailing from her as she finally slows. Pushing her magic from her wings to her hooves, she lands on the cloud as if it were the soft grass she was just standing in.

Still, her tears come, and Pyre falls to her knees on the soft cloud, then she collapses fully, sniffling and crying high in the sky.

She was a fool. A damned, stupid fool, and it took almost dying to realize that. And in return for being a fool, she found a home and a partner; a place to heal and be safe.

And what had it cost her?

Pyre buries her face in the cloud, smothering her grief in its vapors.

And then, a hand rests between her wings, and a gentle voice says, “Pyre.”

The kirin locks up in an instant. She doesn’t dare move, nor look up. She knows that voice.

She knows she can’t chance it being a fake again.

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you, dear?” the voice of her mother asks.

Pyre doesn't answer, trying to ignore the false voice in her head. Trying to stop herself from believing it. And even if it was real–

"It's alright, Pyre. I know. I know."

The hand between her wings lifts and gently runs through her mane, slow and careful.

It’s all Pyre can do to keep it together enough to not fall through the cloud as a fresh wave of sobs wracks her body.

“I’m proud of you, Smoldering Pyre,” her mother says softly, still petting her mane. “I know, you think I shouldn’t be, especially after that argument. But, well, look at you, dear. Look at you and your partner, and your home. Are you proud of that?”

Pyre pauses, both to get a handle on herself and to focus on the question. She nods; yes, the path wasn’t great, but… she is proud of where she is.

“Then I can be, too, dear.”

And there, for a long time, Pyre stays, crying into the cloud while her mother tries to comfort her.

_{Written August 30, 2023}