Author's Notes: Thanks to China Shop for beta.

Story Notes: For the Broken Challenge on ds_flashfiction. Wingfic.

It's a measure of both the strangeness and calmness of my life these days that a quiet evening at home finds me polishing my boots, watching Ray as he preens. The last rays of the sun give the fan of primaries a glow like burnished gold. Twilight is the best time for flying, Ray has explained to me, as people are more likely to dismiss anything unusual as a trick of the light. Certainly that had been my inclination, the first time I'd caught him perched on that same windowsill, wings half extended, muscles coiled for launch.

However, as much joy as they provide - him to fly, me to watch - they require regular maintenance, as if being packed away within a hidden dimension of Ray's body results in snags and creases that need to be ironed out. And in this chore Ray is assiduous.

"Dammit!" Ray flinches, and a feather floats down in front of Diefenbaker's nose where he lies sprawled before the TV. Dief sniffs at it, sending it fluttering across the floor to where I'm sitting, one arm encased in leather. I reach for it with my other hand - it's a tertial: dark, almost chocolate-colored vanes becoming creamy at the base - and look over at Ray.

"Snagged on one of the others. Had to come out, anyway," he shrugs, and runs searching fingers over the surrounding area. I free my hand in order to stroke the damaged barbs. It's long, at least eighteen inches , not much longer than that of a golden eagle, and similar in coloring.

I say this to Ray, and he smiles.

"Keep it. You can make a dream catcher."