They cleaned up after dinner in relative silence: Felix attempting to fold the tablecloth, Abi scooping leftovers from the pot, and Aram bringing the last of the dishes to Hawk and Kim, who washed and dried them. Hawk watched over his shoulder as Aram went back to the table, where Felix was failing to fold the tablecloth using the claws on his wings. Aram stood with one hand on his hips, the other leaning his weight on his cane.

Gently, Hawk nudged Kim with his wing and asked, "What's wrong with his leg?"

Kim put down the dish she was drying to answer, "Didn't heal right. After--you know."

Hawk had a brief, visceral memory of pulling the venomously-glowing-red spear from Aram's thigh. It had been barbed, he remembered, barbs facing backwards to pull the flesh with it. Guiltily, he started to say, "Because I--"

Kim startled him by flapping the dish towel at him. "No," she replied firmly. "Doctor F did what he could, but--Sugar had to change shape with that wound." Hawk remembered this, now, too...Aram dropping from his larger form back into his human-shaped one, curled around the angry wound in his thigh. "That's what made it worse."