Page 4 of Flight of the Omega

In fact, JP hated the vet, and that meant he hated Jack all the more for inviting her. He took one look at the woman—who was barely identifiable as a veterinarian, because she was dressed in a flannel shirt and blue jeans, perfect for mucking about in a barnyard—and squawked a loud warning, flapping his wings furiously.

Likehellhe was going to let either of them touch him!

Burr had closed the pen door though, the sneaky bastard—JP didn’t even know where he’d come from; he hadn’t seen him. JP’s break for the door was cut short, and he had to flap his wings harder to brake and make a banking turn so he didn’t run into the fence.

Jack was right there, burly arms reaching for JP, who squawked loudly and leapt as high as he could, bounding out of the so-called bird whisperer’s grasp. He made a mad dash for the opposite end of the pen, only to find the vet diving in front of him, blocking him from reaching the other exit. He braked and made another turn, then whirled, trying to evade Jack, who was hot on his tail feathers.

He cawed as the vet embraced him, and despite his struggling, he couldn’t break free of her hold. He was even more screwed when Jack slipped a rope over his beak, effectively muzzling him. He glared daggers at Jack, murmuring in his throat, hoping the ranch hand knew just how displeased he was.

Jack just landed a meaty hand on his head, ruffling his crown feathers, patting him. “It’s okay, girl.”

Girl?!JP tried to open his bill wide to protest. He flapped his wings and fanned his tail feathers.

Although, it was a reasonable assumption. Omegas were easy to pick out in a flock; unlike most bird species on Earth, sexual dimorphism in Alerian’s feathered denizens favored the omegas with bright colors and ornate plumage. Omegas had crowns and long tail feathers; they were usually identified by their jewel-toned plumage, and JP was no exception to the rule—his tail feathers trailed on the ground like a peacock, and he was the color of lapis lazuli everywhere, except his face, his belly, and the tips of his wings, which were a brilliant white.

It was a reasonable assumption that he was “a girl,” although JP knew that if you asked most Alerians—especially the non-shifting variety—they didn’t really have a concept ofgirlorboy. They talked aboutomegaandalpha, egg-layers and non-layers.

JP did have a concept of human gender, thanks to being able to take humanoid form, and he thought of himself asa boyand didn’t much like being calledgirl, especially not by the likes of Jack.

The vet grabbed him by the bill and tilted his head up. “Well,” she said, “birdie here looks pretty healthy. Shiny feathers, good weight, bright eyes, no obvious signs of disease …”

Of course not, JP thought with a huff. He was well taken care of. His father had seen to that. Sick birds didn’t lay good eggs.

“No tags?” Jack asked from behind him, grabbing his wing and folding it down again when JP tried to lash out with it.

The vet shook her head, her blonde ponytail flying. “None that I can see, at any rate. No brand either.”

“Huh.” Jack sounded stumped.

“Where’d ya find this one?”

“Oh, just wandering around in the yard last night there. The flock had been out, because of that hole in the fence. I thought I’d got them all back, but then I saw this birdie skulking around.”

The vet pulled away, crossing her arms. Jack released JP but kept a loose hold on the makeshift bridle holding JP’s beak closed. When JP tried to peck the vet, Jack tugged on the rope, turning him away. JP huffed and put his head into the hay at his feet, scrounging for seed.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to see if anyone comes looking for a pretty blue bird then,” the vet pronounced at last. “I see no harm in putting her in with the flock, though.”

“Him,” Burr corrected from his position on the other side of the fence. He leaned over it now. JP eyed him warily. How did he keep disappearing and then reappearing?

“Him, huh?” Jack crossed his arms, but he didn’t let go of the rope. “What makes ya think that?”

“Bird’s clearly a dam,” the vet grumbled, “an omega.”

Burr eyed Jack for a moment, like he though the other man was particularly dense. Then he shrugged. “He’s just giving me that vibe,” he said simply, looking JP dead in the eye.

“All right,” Jack said. “Him then.”

The vet shook her head again. “At any rate, best to put this one in with the flock until someone comes looking for … him. You know how lonely omega birds get.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, “I do. They need a flock.”

JP snorted, then scratched at the hay to show them what he thought of that idea. He might have even defecated, just to drive the point home, but he didn’t need to go then and there.

“Well, c’mon then,” he said, “let’s go see the flock, Cerulean.”

If he’d had eyebrows in avian form, JP would have quirked one. As he didn’t, he just gave Jack a critical look.

Burr spoke for him. “Cerulean, huh? What kinda nickname’s that?”

“We already got a Blue Sapphire. ’Sides, he’s a different kinda blue—almost like the sky or something.”

Well, that sounded poetic—more poetic than a lout like Jack had any right to be. JP ruffled his feathers and puffed up, trying to showcase his annoyance.

“Well, c’mon,” Jack said, tugging on the lead again, “let’s get you in there, meet the flock. Can’t have you getting lonely on us.”