Charles didn't move immediately.
Don's hand was right there—steady, extended, waiting.
For a fraction of a second, Charles just stared at it, breath uneven, body still recovering from the impact and the strain of the last exchange.
His wing twitched slightly, pain still lingering where it had taken the worst of it.
Then he grabbed it.
Firm.
Don pulled.
Charles rose in one motion, boots scraping briefly against the fractured floor—
SKRR—~
—and steadied himself.
The woman didn't wait.
The moment she saw them upright—saw Don holding the child—something in her snapped.
Her eyes widened, body lurching forward as her voice broke apart completely.
"My child!!"
She tried to push past Charles, hands reaching, fingers trembling violently as she struggled to close the distance.
Charles caught her.
Held her.
Firm enough to stop her without throwing her off balance.
