Lyra Dracorider's Arc

Chapter 9 of 15

Matthew set the crystal orb on the table and turned it slowly so Lyra could see inside. The creature was small, folded in on itself, its breathing shallow. Blood matted the fur along its side. "Found it near the cliffs," Matthew said. "It won't last until morning." Lyra looked at the creature, then at the enclosures lining her hospital walls. All full. The foxes had been released days ago, but Brighton still occupied the largest space, and two new wyverns with wing injuries had arrived yesterday—both critical, both requiring absolute stillness. Moving them would set their bones wrong. She'd spent weeks learning that lesson the hard way. "I don't have room," she said, hearing how it sounded even as the words left her mouth. Matthew's jaw tightened. "Then make room. This thing dies if we don't act now." Lyra felt the weight of it—the choice between the creatures she'd already committed to and the one dying in front of her. She thought of the wyvern she'd moved before, how its wing had set crooked because she'd prioritized something else. She wouldn't do that again. She grabbed her leather satchel and slung it across her shoulder. "The outdoor enclosure," she said. "The one by the stone wall and the cherry tree. I cleared it last week but haven't used it yet." Matthew picked up the orb carefully, cradling it against his chest. "Will it hold through the night?" Lyra nodded. "It's sheltered. There's an ice gazebo nearby that blocks the wind. We can set up there and monitor it until dawn." She didn't wait for him to agree. She was already moving toward the door, pulling on her coat. Brighton lifted his head from the windowsill, watching her with those sharp, unblinking eyes. She hummed once—low and steady—and he settled back down. Matthew followed her outside without another word. The enclosure was exactly as she'd left it—clean, empty, ready. Lyra opened the gate and Matthew set the orb down on a flat section of stone near the gazebo's edge. The creature inside stirred slightly, its breathing more labored now. Lyra knelt beside it and opened the orb's seal. The creature didn't resist when she lifted it out. Its body was warm, too warm, and the wound along its side was deeper than it had looked through the crystal. She cleaned it quickly, her hands steady despite the cold biting at her fingers. Matthew crouched beside her, holding the satchel open so she could reach the supplies inside without looking away from the creature. They worked in silence, and when the wound was finally stitched and wrapped, Lyra sat back on her heels. The creature's breathing had evened out. Not stable, but steadier. Matthew met her eyes. "You made the right call," he said quietly. Lyra looked at the enclosure, at the gazebo, at the creature now resting on a bed of straw she'd prepared weeks ago for something she hadn't known was coming. She'd made room. And this time, nothing else had broken to do it.