>out in the forests to retrieve a weather balloon the uplift council lost track of, you run across an astounding sight
>a plucked tribal raptor girl
>poor girl looks to be exiled and can barely speak or understand twenty words of trade pidgin
>you couldn't turn away someone so desperate and forlorn, not into these deadly forests so far from the settlement
>and especially not when they say, "Help Chiisi?"
>with tears streaming down her muzzle and sickle toe claws lowered in submission
>you stash the weather balloon to pick up later and take her home with you
>you get her introduced to your spartan, prefab home
>it's cheap to rent, well insulated, at the edge of the civilization and near where you work, but small
>so small you have to give up half your bedroom to get her a cot and trunk
>she seems afraid to wear the clothes you buy her, but once you help her into some she seems to relax
>"Thank Anon," she says, looking somewhere between cute and sad in her new dress
>there are only patches of feathers on her, when she should be a mass of fluff this time of year
>hurts your soul to look at her and think about the monsters that'd do this to someone
>but at least she has warm clothes, shelter, and food until you figure out what to do with her
>she adapts well enough to living with you over the next week, even keeps her hands away from the stove after you show her it's dangerous
>she did start pestering you with, "Want help Anon," after a few days, so you show her how to clean or cook every time you get back from work
>and while showing her how to help around the house, you work on teaching her new words
>with poor luck at first, but by the third day she catches on
>after that she likes practicing her new words before you both go to bed
>by the end of the first week you guess she knows at least three hundred new words, making conversations easier
>she still doesn't get that it should be "Thanks Anon" instead of "Thank Anon", but it's growing on you
>come home from work, cursing the rain and mud
>you go inside, the solar panel roof and glass windows loud with the sound of pattering rain
>underneath it you can hear a weak, chirping sob
>the lights are off, but once you turn them on you see Chiisi
>hiding under the kitchen table, curled in a fetal position and crying into her knees
>you step in, ceramic crunching under your boots
>good thing you forgot to take them off, it looks like several plates broke
>the sobbing grows more violent when your feet crunch over the ceramic
>thunder rumbles and her breathing is no better than ragged squawks
>you ask her what's wrong
>she won't look at you, shrinking in on herself instead
>but she manages to speak through her chirping, squawking tears
>"Chiisi b-broke Anon plates when rain thunder scary. Chiisi not know fix. Rain thunder get louder a-a-and Chiisi couldn't make Chiisi leave for broke that of Anon."
>you ask her why she'd leave for breaking a few plates
>"Chiisi not help. Chiisi not know fix. A-Anon hate Chiisi for break," she babble-chirps. "Rain thunder scary Chiisi. A-Anon sweep out Chiisi, Chiisi scary broke."
>you kick you boots off before climbing under the table with her
>it's a tight fit but you manage to get under their with her, mostly because she's only four and a half feet tall
>she's shaking with tears, probably convinced your going to throw her into the rain
>you hug her instead
>tell her you'd never throw her into the scary rain thunder
>that plates can be fixed or replaced
>but she can't be replaced
>Chiisi must've said everything she could, because now she just cries
>you hold the quivering, sobbing raptor until the rain dies down
>telling her over and over that it's okay
>her voice is nothing but a ragged chirp when she asks, "Anon n-not sweep out Chiisi?"
>no
>because this is her home, for as long as she wants to stay
>"Anon nice. Chiisi not for nice. Chiisi no-feathered-bad."
>if she is a no-feathered-bad then why are you nice to her?
>she has no way to counter that and is silent
>petting her neck you tell her how nice it's been to be around her
>and while you tell that she can leave whenever she wants, you also say she shouldn't over a few plates you don't care about
>because then you'll be sad she didn't say goodbye
>she shifts and wriggles, until she has you in a hug and her head pressing against your chest
>"Not want Anon sad. Anon nice."
>you pat her and tell her Chiisi is nice too
>the rain patters against the windows, but now she isn't shaking


[I'm going to flesh this out more at some point.]