“Don’t you think it’s weird that you’re still sick?”

Niall looked at me. The shy light of dawn had yet to fully illuminate his face, making the curves of his muscles cast long shadows down his skin. His upper lip was dark and inflexible, while his eyes looked almost black. A single, watery flash of light reflected from each.

I shrugged. “I mean, sure, but it’s just a cold. And it’s not like there’s much I can do about it anyway.”

After three weeks, and my cold had yet to get any better. In fact, it had gotten a little worse, with a throaty cough joining my congestion. It was annoying, but nothing awful.

“Still, they usually don’t last this long,” Niall said, frowning a little. He didn’t comment on the last part of what I said; doctors weren’t an option for our family, and it was a reality neither of us liked.

“I’m sure it’s just a stubborn virus,” I told him. “It’s not like anything crazy is happening. Just normal symptoms lasting longer than normal.”

“It was pretty stubborn to be able to infect you in the first place, so even if it isn’t doing anything else, it’s still unusual,” he replied, pursing his lips.

“That’s true,” I conceded. “But I’d rather not worry about it unless something more serious happens.”

Niall nodded, but chewed his lip. “Fair enough.”

I looked up, enjoying the dark, quiet peace of the morning. The sun had yet to creep over the horizon, but a tentative light came before it, leaving a light blue glow over everything. Around us, trees were tall, alternating between a pale blue hue where the light touched, and deep black shadows where it did not.

It was Sunday morning. Niall didn’t have work until the afternoon, but had trouble sleeping late because of his normal schedule. Sometimes, I woke up early too because of the bat DNA—today, though, I woke up coughing.

We had greeted each other in the kitchen while it was still dark and had decided to go out, spread our wings, and watch the sunrise. We flew for a bit, but stopped when it became light enough to make us visible. Now, we sat by a creek under a canopy of trees. Perhaps fifty feet in front of us, the foliage was not so dense, and we could see the shades of pink of and yellow beginning to peak out.

Niall leaned back, his hands flat against the dirt. He had taken off his shirt and his wings were spread out on either side of him, the white feathers looking ethereal in the strange light. He rolled up his sweatpants and his feet dipped lazily into the creek.

“Isn’t that cold?” I asked. It was still spring—the water had no chance to warm up yet. It had to be freezing.

Niall looked over and shrugged. “Not really.”

Curiously, I dipped my hand in the creek. Goosebumps raced up my arm and I jerked away—the water was so cold, it felt like needles were pricking my hand.

Before I even looked back at Niall, I heard his laugher. I shot a glare his way. He was laughing into his hand, eyes glinting in the growing light.

“Oh, shut up, you!” I dipped my hand in the freezing water a second time and splashed it at him. He raised an arm to shield himself, with minimal success.

“I didn’t mean for you—I meant for me,” he said. Niall tolerated the cold better than I did. Since my DNA was spliced with that of a tropical animal, I was more sensitive to lower temperatures.

“Well, you could have stopped me,” I replied, feeling my cheeks heat up.

“Oh? Is that my responsibility now?” Niall asked, raising an eyebrow. Droplets of water on his wings reflected the light like little prisms.

“Yes,” I said and sniffed, a little more audibly with the excess snot.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Niall held his hand against his chest, exaggerating his apology. “From now on, I will always make sure you know the exact temperature of anything you come in contact with.”

I rolled my eyes.

“In fact, I’m sure you are so cold right now. I feel terrible. I think I need to make it up to you.” His tone was filled with mock sympathy. He met my gaze and grinned.

I eyed him warily. “No, you don’t.”

He nodded and inched closer. “Yes, I really think I do.”

I inched back. “Nope.”

“Yes. You see, I just feel so, so bad,” he said, crawling toward me. “You know what? I think you need a hug. I think that would help.”

I slapped him with my wing and continued moving back, scraping against the dirt with my palms and feet. “Leave me alone, you jerk.”

“No! I can’t! Not when I have made you so grievously uncomfortable!” Niall replied, putting the back of one hand against his forehead with some fantastic theatrics.

“I’ll live.”

“But what if you don’t? What if I cause you to get hypothermia—and you die?” he asked, slapping his hands over his mouth, fingers reaching his nose. “I just can’t let that happen!”

He crawled a few steps closer before suddenly flinging himself on top of me in such a way that made sure he didn’t cause me to hurt my wings when I fell back, but also ensured I couldn’t wiggle away easily. “I won’t let you die, Dee!” he cried, squishing me in a hug.

“Get off me!” I grunted, trying to kick him without much success.

“It’s okay, Dee! I’m one-hundred-and-one degrees!”

“I don’t care how warm you are! Get off!”

I couldn’t help but smile though.

“Not until I have nursed you back to health!” he replied, still clinging. His forearms were under my wings, a mildly uncomfortable cushion. His chest rested against mine. I could feel his heartbeat and the movement of his belly as he breathed in and out.

He was very warm—I had to give that to him.

I sighed. “Can you get off me now?”

Niall adjusted himself so he could look at me. His messy bangs drooped down. He hadn’t bothered to brush his hair before we went out. His silhouette was dark against the ever lightening sky, but I could still see the blond outline of the unruly tufts on his head, and his eyes, a hazy indigo whose gaze met my own. His wings were arched sharply to accommodate his position. The white and gold edges of his feathers lit up just like the thin strands of sun stretching through the trees behind him.

His lips widened into an obnoxious grin. “Maybe.”

I groaned. “Just get up!”

“But how do I know you’re well enough?” he asked.

“Because,” I began, trying to think of something witty to say. I couldn’t, so I opted for a threat of violence instead. “I’ll bite you if you don’t.”

“Oh no!” Niall pretended to gasp. “Do you think I’ll get rabies?”

“Do you want—” I felt an itch beginning in my lungs, moving its way up. I tried to clear my throat. “Do you want to find out?” I managed, trying to stifle a cough.

Niall’s grin faded. “No, I guess not,” he said, and carefully sat up. Once he was no longer over me, he helped pull me to a sitting position. I wheezed a few times before coughing into my elbow.

“Sorry,” Niall apologized, looking like he regretted horsing around.

I shook my head. “Not your fault I’m sick,” I told him.

“Yeah, but I got you worked up,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

“You flatter yourself, bird boy,” I said, rolling my eyes and slapping him with my wing again.

Niall’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Really? Should I hug you again?” he asked.

I sighed and glared at him. “Please, don’t.”

He chuckled. “Fine, fine, I wasn’t going to anyway,” he said, holding my gaze for a few more moments. “The sun is starting to lighten your hair again,” he commented.

I looked down at a few strands illuminated in the morning light. He was right. My hair is dark brown, but has some red highlights that are more visible when I go out in the sun frequently, as I had been lately. “Oh, yeah,” I murmured, touching a few hairs.

“It looks nice,” Niall said.

I felt my cheeks heat up and I looked down. “Thanks.”

Niall didn’t say anything, but I felt his gaze on me for several more seconds. Then he turned to the clearing again and watched sun lift well over the horizon, unobscured and rising further. The dark blue that remained of the night receded, and eventually the pale pinks and purples went with it. Birds chirped with increasing frequency, hopping along tree branches peering out from the leaves. I leaned against him, enjoying as the morning grew brighter and came to life around us.

Eventually, the sun slowed its rapid climb and set itself into its normal, tedious pace. The birds leapt from their branches and the woods stirred with creatures whose days had begun. Niall turned and looked down at me. “It’s probably a good time for us to head back,” he said.

I sighed and cast a glance at the leaves swaying above us. He was right. Even on a Sunday, there were things to do. The kids would be up, and breakfast would have to be made. There was church, and eventually Niall would have to go to work for a little bit. Then he would come home, we would have dinner, and after bed the week would begin again.

Niall squeezed my shoulder. “Come on,” he said, standing up.

“Ugh, fine,” I grunted.

Niall gave me his hand and helped me up, and together, we started back toward the house. We walked in silence while leaves and twigs crunched under our feet. As we got closer to the edge of the woods, Niall put his shirt back on. It was nice to have had the break, even if it was much earlier than I would have liked to be awake.

Eventually, the trees gave way to grass and the house loomed in the distance. The grass seemed a little longer than it should have for the time of year, and I made a mental note to come back and mow it soon. Here and there, patches of daffodils bloomed sporadically. We hadn’t planted any of them, but they’d bloomed every year since we bought the house. I always wondered who placed them so randomly. I appreciated them though—I’d have to avoid them when I mowed.

We sauntered down the hill into the field and I wondered if the distance from the woods to our house had always been so far. I took a deep breath, feeling short of air, and a familiar tickle began to inch up my throat. I tried clearing it, but that didn’t help. I buried my face in the crook of my elbow to avoid spreading any germs, no matter how unlikely that was. It would be especially unusual if any virus was communicable among our family, given how different our genetic makeups were. Still, I preferred to be careful.

I figured I would only cough a few times, but these coughs came from deep in my lungs. My entire diaphragm shook, and in turn, agitated my airways more. The sensation went from itchy to sore, and my chest heaved. It was hard to breathe. I stopped walking and Niall hovered next to me. Mucus made its way up, clashing with the air I was trying to gasp in. I knew the coughing would end soon, but it began to feel like I was drowning.

“Take it easy,” Niall murmured, putting his hand on my back and patting. I continued to cough, but they began to come slower. “Take it easy,” he kept repeating.

Eventually, they stopped. My ribs and stomach felt sore. I cleared my throat and took slow, deep breaths. Niall rubbed my back softly.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I nodded and looked up at him. His gaze was dark and concerned. “I’m fine,” I replied, my voice coming out in a whisper without me meaning it to.

His lips pursed and he studied me in silence for several moments, his hand still on my back. “I wish we could bring you to a doctor,” he murmured.

“Yeah, but isn’t that what got us into this mess in the first place?” I tried to joke, but Niall didn’t smile.

“We should keep an eye on it,” he said.

I nodded, but didn’t bring up the obvious: regardless of how serious my illness was or not, there was very little we could do.

We stood for a bit longer, until my breathing was back to normal. “Come on,” I finally said, patting Niall on the shoulder. He nodded, and we returned to the house in silence.