Wait. Was that weird? It was probably weird. I needed to spend more time around people.

“Here.” She pushed the fledging almost into my hands, even though I wasn’t gloved yet.

Surprised, I sidestepped, trying to read her body language. Was she just desperate to hand off the fledgling? I would be the first to admit that I didn’t always read humans well. Animals make sense. People…don’t.

“I can’t live like this.” She leaned closer, brushing his feathers against my scrubs. I yelped, jumping back, smacking the fabric with my free hand. The stench of singed cotton filled my nose. Our clinic saw phoenix fledglings so rarely that I hadn’t really been prepared when I’d entered the room. I was kicking myself for not grabbing one of our leather aprons. But I’d been so excited to check the little fella in—a baby phoenix!—that I practically sprinted into the room. There was no way Dr. Larsen, or as I called her off the clock, Mama Ami, would miss the singe mark, either.

I had a “your heart is in a good place, but you need to slow down and consider consequences” speech coming my way, which was a classic I’d heard many times before. But come on—baby phoenix.

The woman was being careful to keep the sparks from touching her own slacks, which was good, because though I may not know designers or labels, they looked expensive.

I set my spritzer on the exam table, trying to decide how to respond while simultaneously attempting to feel out the situation. You don’t just find a baby phoenix in your sink one morning. Phoenix parents were fiercely protective, nurturing their young for the first few months. That was a good thing, because fledglings couldn’t control their flames very well. Hence her thick leather gloves and my squirt bottle. If she’d had an adult phoenix, neither would be necessary.

Or if they were bonded, which was where I came in. Or at least, where I wanted to come in, once I was able to finally remove the apprentice badge from my scrubs.

I closed my eyes for a second so I could concentrate on my magic. There was no familiar bond between the client and the fledgling. Maybe something had happened to the parent? It was possible she had found the baby and brought it in, hoping we could bond them quickly. That would be safer for everyone involved.

“I admit he’s a little more….” I struggled for a polite euphemism, because I’ve never really gotten the hang of that sort of thing. But I was trying. “Your prospective familiar is a little more temperamental than most, but the trade-offs—”

“I don’t want a familiar.” She scrunched her nose at the baby phoenix. “I came by him on accident and now I don’t know what to do. He almost burnt down my breakfast nook. He eats salamanders—the real ones, the tiny flame lizards? Do you have any idea how hard it is to store food that burns?”