Cycles

The bird trilled and hopped around Cozy where she lay, curled up and still. She watched it, her eyes tracking the creature whenever it bounced into view.

It turned out it was indeed quite young. A tiny phoenix that only recently learned to fly when she took it in. New dressing wrapped its left wing, this time with actual gauze instead of stolen cotton, plus an added layer of patterned material that sorely clashed with its plumage.

She, Cozy corrected mentally.

"You're so energetic," Cozy said. The bird tweeted politely in response, hopping a tighter circle where she stood, then jumping onto Cozy's right hoof.

Adhesive bandages covered the flesh just above the hoof.. The little scratches underneath were of the bird's making, though they'd mostly healed. Cozy didn't blame her for them. She had been the cause of a lot of grief for the little thing after all.

The bird quickly hopped off as Cozy sat up. Unfurling her right wing she pulled out a small, opaque bag, sealed at the top with one of those newfangled press-seals. A sign of technology changing, plastic becoming a new standard over paper and metal.

Griffin food, courtesy of an old feather-brained guard, and a little prize for the bird who squawked in anticipation.

Cozy smiled, then tore the bag open and dumped out out a few small, misshapen cubes of unidentified, cooked meat. Cozy didn't question what it was, just that it probably tasted a lot better than the spare fruits or errant bugs she'd provided over the past weeks.

"Here," she said. "Don't eat it all at once. You'll get fat."

The bird tucked in, heedless of Cozy's words.

The books Cozy had access to didn't say a lot on phoenixes, just that they were exceptionally rare. Rare enough, in fact, some of the older texts strongly implied they weren't real.

But there was no mistaking it. The ruby red plumage, the orange trim and breast. The rounded beak threw her off, too. She figured something that ate meat—actual flesh—would have something less rounded off.

Yet there this bird was, enjoying the mystery meat. The chunks were too big to swallow in one bite, so the critter pinned it in place with a talon and ripped off strips along the meat's grain.

She was too cute for Cozy to find it gruesome.

The closet space was proving to be increasingly cramped. Aside from the special treats, she'd grabbed two bowls from the kitchen, one filled with water and the other with the remains of vegetables. She'd also given the bird bedding, and newspaper padding covered the floor, which she cleaned out as often as she could.

The closet still stank of shit. Thankfully they hadn't had any real functions to attend to, and the few they did Cozy had picked out Flurry's clothes for her.

After holding her breath a moment, Cozy let out a long, deep sigh. She'd have to let the thing out soon, despite her concerns. The textbook outline a little on phoenix keeping, and that it was an incredibly involved, life-long commitment; an impossible task for Cozy.

The phoenix squawked as she finished one cube, then hopped over to the next. There she tilted her head this way and that, beady black eyes blinking up at Cozy and eyeing the bag.

Giggling, Cozy sealed it. "No. I'll give you more tomorrow." She turned then, pushing the wall of clothes in her way aside, and then noticed the light streaming in through the closet door. The scent of cardamom and sandalwood was just a little stronger than usual.

Cozy froze. Flurry stood in the door, blocking it in the right way that she was reduced to a silhouette. Her eyes disappeared into the darkness, but Cozy knew where they were, what they looked like.

Frozen and cold, indeterminate.

The bird let out a short, sharp whistle.

"What have you got there?" Flurry asked.

Cozy turned her attention from Flurry, only to stop herself before she looked back at the phoenix. Instead she shook the little plastic bag, some of the chunks within dully thumping against the sides. "A bag of GrifBits."

What followed was perhaps the loudest silence Cozy had ever heard, if it weren't for the phoenix ripping into her next chunk.

Flurry stepped further into the closet. Her face remained in shadow, but as she got closer the lamp's cool blue light touched her face. It was like a ghost had walked in, her cool complexion betraying next to nothing. She just watched the bird eat for a moment, before turning to Cozy.

"I can explain!" Cozy said quickly. Another silence fell between them where she expected Flurry to say something.

"Okay," she said eventually.

Another lie floated to Cozy's mind. She'd dug herself into a small pit with the past few, making excuses for her absence, talking up the project she was working on to explain things disappearing.

That would only make the pit deeper and make it harder to eventually get out. Cozy couldn't do that. She wouldn't.

Setting the bag down, Cozy then straightened herself up, puffing her chest forward. Not in pride, but steeling her confidence without her trite sweetness. "I hurt her."

"What?" Flurry stepped forward, pushing her way past Cozy and shoving her back toward the door. "How long have you been keeping this secret?"

"Not intentionally!" Cozy corrected. "I was just reading one day and she was making a lot of noise. I tried to ignore her but…" She cringed. "You know we only have seven tumblers in the parlour's display, right?"

Flurry's frown stung. She knew that look. Disappointment, frustration. She'd been subjected to it plenty, in the past and even the present when she met her inlaws. As the estranged, psycho run, she was merely tolerated.

She really didn't want Flurry to see her that way, too.

"So you threw a glass at it."

"I didn't think I'd hit her. I got unlucky with my bad aim." Cozy tried to get closer to Flurry, but Flurry pushed a wing to her chest.

"So what is this, then?" Flurry asked. "Is this guilt or pity?" She turned to the phoenix, which didn't comprehend the gravity of the conversation. She just paused eating to meet Flurry's gaze.

"Neither," Cozy said. "Not anymore. I mean, I did feel guilty but that's not why she's still here."

Flurry's glare softened, and something changed about her posture. Unseen at first, just a little less pressure to Cozy's chest, but eventually she seemed to shrink, her regal stature as an alicorn coming down just a little more to Cozy's level.

"You keep saying 'she' and 'her'." Flurry's head tilted to one side, and a little hook invisibly tugged at the corner of her lips. "You're sentimental over this thing, aren't you?"

If there was one thing Cozy hated more than being judged as psychopathic, it was being soft. At least, being soft when her cuter-than-thou persona was put away. "Maybe," Cozy squeaked.

Flurry snickered, the wing folding back to her side. "You found another missing piece," she muttered.

Cozy furrowed her brow. That was cryptic. "What was that?" she asked.

Flurry shook her head. "Nothing, honey." The wing snapped out, wrapping around Cozy's flank and tugging her in. Cozy just slid across the floor, going stiff in surprise though it wasn't the first time her fiancée had pulled that trick. "What's her name?"

"I can't name her," Cozy said. She didn't want to give the bird a name. She knew she wouldn't be able to let her go then. "I read that you're not meant to keep them indoors for too long."

Flurry slowly nodded. "Right." Flurry leaned in a little more, pressing her cheek to Cozy's. "I think that time has come and gone, and you darn well know it. What's her name?"

Falling into Flurry's embrace, Cozy sighed. It wasn't fair to keep the critter trapped, but there was too good a chance that the phoenix had adjusted to pony interaction. She wondered if Flurry knew that, or just knew how Cozy thought.

She extended her good wing to the floor, right before the phoenix. The bird considered it for a moment, then clambered up onto Cozy's wing and clasped on tight.

Cozy brought her close to her and Flurry. "Renée," Cozy said, her voice quiet. "Her name is Renée."