Lucky obeyed, and soon enough Lightning Dust had the brush’s wooden handle in her mouth. She couldn’t talk then, only gesture with her wings and make frustrated sounds whenever James didn’t respond correctly. It hurt, but this time the pain was more refreshing than something she wanted to get rid of. It was like a deep massage after a workout. The water went from clear to a shade of off-orange, with lots of little brown bits floating in it. My wings were that gross?