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Windthor walked up to the receptionist window, rubbing his jaw. "Excuse me," he said, speaking as if his mouth were full of cotton as he winced. The receptionist looked up. "I have an appointment with Dr. Hart." The receptionist, a female skink whose nametag read "Tessa", smiled, looking at the time chart.

"Come on back, I'll get the doctor to you in a bit." Windy attempted a smile, but he only succeeded in an uncharacteristic grimace, but at least was trying. The reptile lead the husky to a room, and closed the door behind him when he entered.

Windy sat down, before wincing and reaching up to rub his shoulder, unable to really reach the spot on his shoulder blades that hurt him. Dr. Hart, an older eight-point elk ducked down slightly to allow his antlers to go through the doorway, and adjusted his lab coat at he closed the door behind him. "Hey, there, Windy," he greeted the husky.

"I owe you one, Jonas," said Windy, reaching up to shake the elk's hand. "I know this is unorthodox, and I know you'll get into trouble if you're caught doing things like this under the table, but I need help."

"Yeah, it sounds like you're in a lot of pain," said Dr. Hart, nodding and reaching out to press his fingers into and along Windy's jaw, making the dog wince, but he didn't pull away. "Where exactly do you hurt?" he asked.

"Jaw and shoulder blades," he grunted. "I already saw Dr. Harris, the dentist outside of town."

"Take off your shirt for me, please," requested the elk. Windy pulled his blue tee-shirt up over his head, pulling his long braid over his shoulder once he did. "What did Dr. Harris say?" Windthor turned his upper body, allowing Dr. Hart access as the elk tugged on some latex gloves.

"That canines my age often still have urges to teethe, and the pain'll come and go as I get older." Windy rolled his shoulder, feeling Dr. Hart press his fingers against the canine's back. "My birthday's in two weeks, and he said it was unusual that I would be hurting this late and for this long..."

"Already getting to be eighteen... How long have you been in pain?" asked Dr. Hart, his hands pressing into Windy's shoulder blades; the husky winced and took in a sharp breath through his teeth. "Huh..."

"Ahh, ever since I started at the... The chicken plant," grunted Windy, looking over his shoulder at Dr. Hart, who was staring at a spot on his back. "So, around... Two and a half months... Maybe. My jaw, fairly recently, just last month... I figured it was just because I was working, and had to yell to talk to anyone in that place... Is everything okay?"

Dr. Hart pursed his lips. "Your father... Was a dalmatian, right?" he asked slowly.

"...Yeah," answered Windy, confused. "That's what Mom always said. It's what you figured was why my markings are different. You know that; you've been over for dinner a lot." The elk nodded.

"Well, I'm feeling two large knots on your shoulder blades, and you said they hurt intensely?" Windy nodded, his ears folding back to his head as he dreaded the answer. "They're hard, and don't have much give to them. Roughly an inch and a half across... I can't be sure, but you might have a pair of sebaceous cysts."

Windthor groaned, reaching up to press his hands into his face. "Great... I came here in private so my mom wouldn't have to worry... Do I need to tell her?"

Dr. Hart bit his lip. "Tell you what, Windy... I'll get a blood test drawn, okay? It should come back within the month. Ideally, we'd need to take care of cysts as soon as they're discovered, but... I'm honestly not sure if they are actually cysts."

"What else could they be, Doc?" asked Windthor, and Dr. Hart sat down next to him, the elk closing his brown eyes.

"...I don't know," said the doctor, and something was... Odd, in his voice. Hesitant and somewhat distant. "I know I should be assuring you, but..."

"No," said Windthor, picking up his shirt. "I'm glad you're being honest with me, Jonas." The elk looked as if he was going to say something else, but instead he shook his head.

"I'll be right back," he said, reaching up to tenderly pat the canine on the shoulder before standing up. "I'll get a butterfly needle to draw some blood..."

* * *

"I'm sorry," said Windthor, though the cotton was obscuring his speech even more than it had two weeks ago. He was at work, at the chicken plant. Still in his apron, boots and pink hairnet, he sat, quivering, on a stool in the on-site nurses office, arms wrapped around himself and clutching at his shoulders. "It's not working..."

The nurse, an Asian human, bit her lip. In her hand was a bottle of high-dose painkillers that Dr. Hart had written for him and that the canine had paid for. For the last two weeks, Windy had put on a brave face, making an excuse for his pains as "just working at the plant, not used to it yet". His neighbors and coworkers had assured him that one didn't just "get used" to the chicken plant. In fact, several of them admitted that they still had a cough even after several years after quitting the chicken plant.

"Can you wait here for a few minutes?" asked the nurse, whose nametag read "Huang", and Windy could only nod, starting to sway in his chair as she left the room. The room had apparently been soundproofed from the noises of the rest of the plant, which certainly kept Wind from being distracted from his own pain. Luckily, the minutes passed fairly quickly, it seemed, since he didn't even notice when the nurse and his manager, Martin, had returned.

"Windthor," said the Hispanic man, stepping up to him. "The nurse tells me you're in a lot of pain?"

Windthor nodded again, trying to swallow. "Yeah... Sh-shoulders, and jaw... This pain... It's not from the chicken plant." Martin furrowed his brow, glancing to Nurse Huang, who let out a sigh.

"Windy went to his doctor two weeks ago," she explained. "Dr. Hart. He said that Windy might have a pair of sebaceous cysts on his shoulder blades."

Martin blinked, looking to Windy again. "A pair? At the same time? I've had one before, and it was a terrible experience, but two?" Windthor nodded again, and, taking his hands off his shoulders for the first time since he'd stepped into the office, started to take off his apron and uniform, the nurse stepping up to help him. Once he was down to his undershirt, the nurse pulled the back of it up over his shoulders. Windy couldn't help but wince at Nurse Huang's shocked gasp. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Martin with concern lining his face for once.

"I think Windy needs to go home," said the nurse, and Windy, while he hated to admit it, couldn't help but agree. Martin, who had always been hard-nosed as long as the dog had known him, pursed his lips, eyes locked on Windy's shoulders.

"...Yes." Wind sighed, and the nurse let the back of his shirt fall back down again. "Have you clocked out for your break, Windthor?" Windy nodded.

"Mm-hm." Martin took a breath through his nose, before letting it out again. "Look, I don't... I don't want to leave... But..."

"But you feel like you have to?" guessed Martin, before turning to the nurse. "Get his things, we can call an am--"

"No, I can walk." Martin and Huang blinked as Windy stood up, though he nearly doubled over in pain. Putting on what he thought was a brave face, Windy nodded to Martin and the nurse. "Look, I know this is probably not... The best thing, but... I don't want an ambulance, and I don't want my mother to know. I'll tell her myself when I get home, I promise. And I'll get the damn things lanced." Martin and the nurse, who were shorter than Windy, even while he was stooped over, exchanged a glance before Martin nodded.

"Fine. Just change out of your uniform so you have as little to take with you as possible. I know you don't drive." The manager walked over to the door and pushed it open.

"Not yet, anyay," said Windy, letting out a relieved sigh and walking towards the door, stepping out and walking into the hallway. His various coworkers gave him waves and smiles, and while he, again, tried to put on a brave face, he felt that he only succeeded in making a pained grimace, which he did notice that a few people were concerned or worried. No one approached him, however, much to his relief, and he got to his locker with no obstacles.

It took him several minutes, with the pain he was in, but once he got his sneakers and casual clothes on, he simply shoved the rest of his things - his rubber boots, mainly - into the locker and just left the building.

It was only a half-hour walk between the two places, though he found it strange, as he turned the corner to walk down his street, that no one was around. "Where is everyone?" he muttered, though he jumped as his cellphone started ringing. Pulling it out of his pocket, he saw that it was Dr. Hart's office. Answering it, he said, "Hello?" just before sudden twinge of pain across his shoulders made him flinch.

"Windy?" came Dr. Hart's voice. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?" Windthor let out a grunt for reasons unrelated to what the doctor was saying, but he guessed that Jonas took it as some sort of non-committant noise. "I got your blood test results back. They're not cysts." Windy blinked. Dr. Hart was being... Uncharacteristically blunt. "I did find something else out, though."

Windy was barely listening anymore, however, as the pain across his shoulders reached a peak that he couldn't bear, and he fell to his knees. Dr. Hart continued to talk, and spoke quickly and bluntly, as if he was afraid that if he stopped, he'd lose his nerve. "On a hunch, I decided to get your blood put through a DNA test. I just got it back and..." Windy let out another grunt, this one out of agony, as he dropped the phone. However, he could hear, even as he clutched his shoulders again and fell onto his side, Dr. Hart say, "...The paternal DNA came back as dragon."

With that, Windy back arched from the agony, and he felt his shirt tighten against his chest. It felt like something was pulling at the back of his shirt. Turning his head, he looked over his shoulder. He was alone. However, something was pushing from inside the shirt, from his back. "D-dragon?" asked Windy, his hands clenched into fists. Dr. Hart was still talking, but now Windy was ignoring him, clutching at his shirt; it had been pulled taut against his chest. Hooking his fingers under the collar of his shirt and lifting himself up onto his knees, he pulled as hard as he could, which was apparently really hard, as the fabric tore away rather easily, and split down the middle as something erupted from his back.

Collapsing onto his chest, his eyes streaming, he let out a low, soft whine. "Windthor!?" called Dr. Hart. "Windy! Are you there? What happened!?"

Slowly, Windy clutched his phone and picked it up, finding that he wasn't in quite as much pain as he was before. Very sore, sure, but now the pain was mostly gone. Putting ths phone to his ear, he looked over his shoulder again. "I'm here," he said, speaking, perhaps, a bit too calmly. On his back, a pair of wings now perched. Leathery and flesh-colored, but pale, they stood out from the rest of his fur. Looking forward again, he rubbed his jaw, which had also stopped hurting, now that he noticed it. "I think my mother has some explaining to do."

"Windy, don't--"

"Catch you later, Jonas." With that, Windy snapped his cell phone closed and started walking. Well, stumbling. Sore and dizzy, he went around the sidewalk as if he'd just woken up from an alleyway after a bender. Still, he was calm, his face almost completely blank. His house wasn't far now. On the right, just before the cul-de-sac.

In the back of his mind, he knew that it was strange that no one was around. Just his luck. The one time someone wasn't being nosy in the suburbs, it was when something was actually happening. Nearly falling face-first into the door, Windy shoved it open, grunting softly.

"Mom," he said, his knees shaking.

"Windy?" called his mother from the kitchen. "You're home early!" The canine - the hybrid, he had to remember - stumbled forward, across the living room and up to the doorway. His mother sounded urgent about something. "Are you that sore?" she asked as Windthor turned the corner, supporting himself on the wall as he watched his mother carry a cake from the counter to the dining table. He also saw a present; A round box, wrapped in green and blue.

Kia's back was to Windy as she placed the cake, with blue frosting and the words "Happy 18th Birthday Windy" written in green on the top. "Mom," he said again, and she turned to him, blinking.

"Are you alright?" she asked, obviously not yet noticing his wings, since they had lowered behind him and the wall, but the house phone started ringing, and she turned to pick it up. "Hello?" Windy felt his lips curl upwards as Kia turned her back on him again, and he walked towards her. "Jonas...? ...What did you say...?" The hybrid, letting out a low growl, grabbed the cordless phone out of his mother's hand and threw it, hard, down the hallway, the momentum from the pitch nearly pitching him straight to the floor, though he managed to catch himself on his knee. "Windthor Leon Pryas, what--" However, Kia went silent, now that she was facing Windy's back.

Windthor straightened up, his shoulders rising and falling with his heavy breathing, his wings folding and unfolding automatically, perhaps to get blood flowing into them. He felt, rather than heard, his mother backing away from him. Turning, still supporting himself on the wall, he glared at his mother, baring his teeth and growling again. "Mom. My dad wasn't a dalmation, was he?"

Windy stood still for a few moments. Or at least, as still as he could manage, before he stumbled away from his mother, heading to his room. Kia didn't follow for a few moments, until he heard the crunch of plastic under his feet, where the cordless phone had broken apart on the floor, and her foosteps started getting closer. Nearly falling on his face again as he went for the stairs, he grunted and grasped the railing. "What are you doing?" asked Kia.

"Leaving," he said shortly, not looking at her. He nearly dragged his feet up the stairs. It was slow going, but he managed it. His mother stayed back, and he knew without looking that she was still staring at his wings.

"Where are you going to go?" Kia seemed to snap out of it, climbing up the stairs after him, but still keeping her distance.

"I don't know." Finally reaching the landing, Windthor headed to his room, shoving his door open and heading inside. Finding a tote bag in his closet, he grabbed a few shirts, before glancing at his wings, and simply relented to dropping the shirts and shoving some pants into it instead.

"How are you going to eat?"

"I have money on my card," he muttered, before nearly falling over again, supporting himself on the frame of his bed. "Been saving up to buy a car. Guess I don't need to anymore..." Kia almost stepped to his side, but he pulled away. "D-dizzy," he added, panting heavily. His tongue started to hang out, and Kia gasped again. Reaching up, he felt his tongue, which had also changed. It was still fairly flat, but it was now pointed, and thinner, and much longer, hanging nearly six inches from his bottom lip. Pulling his tongue back in, he could only guess that his jaw had hurt because it was reforming to something similar to a snake's jaw, to accomodate for the much longer tongue.

"Oh, my God, Windy... What did you--"

"Excuse me!?" snapped Windthor suddenly, glaring at his mother. "What did I do? Mom, you're the one-- Nngh..." He stumbled again, falling back onto his bed and clutching his head. "Agh... Mom, I'm not angry at you... Not... Not for these, anyway," he added, pointing with his thumb at his wings. "What I'm pissed off about is that you kept it a secret from me."

"I... I didn't want you--"

"Didn't want me to what!?" he yelled at her. "I can guess what happened to make me this way, and why you kept it from everyone. What I'm angry about, Mom, is that you lied to me. For my whole life."

Kia went silent, her lip trembling. The hybrid stood up again and grabbed his guitar from the wall, pulling it onto his back with some difficulty. His wing had some trouble getting through the loop of the strap. "You--"

"Just shut up, Mom," he said softly, cutting her off and turning to look at her again. She bit her lip, walking backwards from her taller son. He saw that her tail was lifting up between her legs. "Shut up, and listen. I'm leaving. You can't stop me, so don't... Bother trying."

Kia's fingers pressed to her mouth as her son rolled his shoulder after placing the strap of the tote bag full of pants onto it. As he walked past her, however, she said, "I'm your mother, and--" However, as Windy froze, halfway to grabbing up his goggles that were hanging from a peg beside his door, she silenced herself again. Turning slowly to Kia, the taller dog glared down at his mother, though his face had gone completely blank. She shrunk away from him as he started to speak, his normally tenor voice had gone low and gravelly.

"You've lied to me, to everyone, for eighteen years," he began, walking towards her. She stepped back with each of his steps. "You said that my dad was a dragon rider, and that he went on big adventures and named me after his best friend. Then he and 'Windthor' died, doing what he loved. That's what you always told me. Yeah, after a few years, the stories started getting inconsistent, and I realized that you were probably exaggerating the stories a little, for entertainment. I never would have guessed that you were a liar. I trusted you, and defended you from what the neighbors said. You betrayed me. And you didn't even lie for a good reason!" His voice had risen to a shout again, and Kia flinched, falling onto the wooden chest that had all of Windy's old toys in it. "Mom, if you'd have just told me..."

"I-- I--" He held up a hand, stopping his mother from stammering out another excuse.

"You've lied about something this big, Mom. What did you think was going to happen, if you told me that I was the bastard son of a dragon? Huh? Hell, if you'd have told the truth two years ago, I would have been angry, sure, but I'd have been better-prepared. I'd have looked forward to getting wings. Hell, do you know how long I've wanted to fly?"

"Ever-- Ever since I gave you those goggles," said Kia numbly, and Windy turned away, snatching the flight goggles off the wall before stepping up to her again.

"Were these a lie, too?" he asked, shaking them in front of her face. "Was your grandfather really in World War 2 as a pilot, and he wore these goggles?" He glared into her eyes, the same color as his own.

"Yes, he did," she said, not breaking eye contact, and nodded once. Windy blinked, staring down at the goggles, before pulling them over his head and letting them hang from his neck.

"Well, one truth doesn't make you any less of a liar," he said, turning his back on her again.

"But-- But-- I--"

"You what?" he asked, this time not even bothering to turn to her. "You're my mother? Ha." The disbelieving laugh caught Kia by surprise, since Windy heard her let out a sharp breath. "You've lied, about almost everything my whole life. How do I know you're really my mother?"

Kia took in a gasp, and, feeling more satisfied than he probably should have, Windthor started to walk away, but he felt a hand grasp his shoulder and turn him around, only for a second hand to smack him across the face. It was probably his own dizziness, but it sent him reeling, falling, hard, onto his rear as his mother now had the chance to loom over him. "I am your mother!" she said, and she was seething, her fists clenched. "And you are my son!" She extended a hand, complete with a finger, to point at his face. "And you--" However, Windy grabbed his mother by the wrist and shoved her towards the wall.

"Maybe I don't want to be your son anymore," he growled, and Kia was so shocked that she didn't even say anything as Wind climbed back to his feet, and stumbled towards the stairs again. "...I'm sorry," muttered the hybrid softly. "That was too far. Anyway, you won't be alone. You have the triplets. You have Dr. Hart, or Trent next door, or... Hell, whoever it is you're fucking now." He froze as he lowered his foot onto the first step. "Was that why you didn't tell anyone?" he asked, though it was clearly rhetorical, as he looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling, before shaking his head. His mother had lowered herself down to the floor against the wall, watching him. "Doesn't matter," he muttered, I would have understood, if no one else did. Now I don't care."

"That's a lie," said Kia suddenly, and while Windthor stopped halfway down the stairs, Kia stood up, stepping up to the railing and speaking to his back. "All your life, you've done nothing but care." Windy's shoulder twitched and he started walking again, using the railing as support. "I remember, you helped Evie, when... She needed you, and you were there for her. You care, Windy."

Windthor reached the landing, looking towards the door. "Yeah, well." He stood in silence for a long few moments.

Kia chewed on her lip for a second, herself, before starting to go down the stairs. "Wait for a second," she said, stepping past him and towards the kitchen.

"I'm not--"

"Just a second, please!" she called, sounding desperate. As the sound of ripping paper reached his ears, Windthor tilted his head, blinking. Kia came back, holding a box. Opening it, she held it out to him, where a black trillby fedora lay inside, and Windy stared down at it. "I know you-- You've been wanting one. I'm surprised you didn't buy one yourself. I mean..." She let out a deep sigh. "You'll need a hat, to... To keep the sun out of your eyes, and the... The rain off your head, when you need to."

Windy turned his head away for a few seconds, before reaching out to take the hat. "Thanks." Kia's hand fell on his much larger one, and he looked her in the eye again.

"Stay safe. My... My door is always open for you..." Her eyes started watering, and Wind turned away again, placing the hat on his head and started walking towards the door. His dizziness had gone down, now. Not completely, but it was getting there. "I love you, Windy."

Windthor froze for a few more moments, just as he got to the door. He took a deep breath through his nose, and though Kia couldn't see it, his eyes were closed, holding back tears, though not very well. "...Catch you later, Mom," he whispered, and stepped out the door, his wing clipping it as he closed it behind him.

Outside, the hybrid lifted a hand to tug on the rim of his new hat, casting his eyes in shadow, before turning to the street. A car was rolling down towards his house. He recognized it at Dr. Hart's car. The car screeched to a halt, the front wheel jumping the curb, and the elk stepped out, his jaw falling open at the sight of Windthor, who bowed his head, pulling his hat down even more than it had been, so that he was watching his own feet. Only now were his neighbors starting to come out, and Windy could only guess that they'd been preparing for his birthday party, hiding away.

The thought of it made him sick to his stomach, but he started walking, anyway. "Windy," said Dr. Hart, and the hybrid in question turned his head away, his feet taking him down the sidewalk. He could feel a few dozen pairs of eyes on him - or specifically, his wings.

Spotting feet in front of him, he stopped, and felt his ears twitch and swivel backwards, as many pairs of feet behind him also came to a stop. Taking a deep breath, Windy kept himself from looking back, or up, as he spoke. "...There are a lot of questions going through a lot of heads right now, right?" he asked, turning his head, but not really "looking" at anyone. For a few moments, he was silent, before he rolled one shoulder and tilted his head back as his wings stretched out. He glanced to the one to his left. Maybe it was just the sun, but he thought that it was getting some more color to it. Perhaps his blood was finally starting to pump through them properly. "...Ask my mother. Maybe she'll stop lying and give you answers. I wouldn't hold my breath."

However, as he started walking again, the feet in front of him parting to give him room, his breath did catch in his throat, as a few people, people whose voices he recognized, called feebly to him, but no one ran after him, or stopped him, or even said "Good-bye". His hands clenched into fists, and his arms started to shake, but he kept walking.

Walking away from family, from friends, from Springsong, from eighteen years of relative happiness. His eyes began streaming tears, and he stopped at the edge of the road, a hand resting on a lamppost. For a fleeting, tiny moment, Leon Pryas almost looked back. But, biting his lip, perhaps a little too hard, he practically forced himself to turn the corner and keep walking.

As far as Leon was concerned, there was nothing in Springsong for him to miss. And Springsong would stop missing Windthor, eventually.