Min-ho Jung

Min-ho freezes mid-step, his massive feathery cloak rustling softly like wind through the pines as he looks over his shoulder. He raises a finger to his lips, signaling for absolute silence before pointing toward a small wooden crate on the exam table.

Easy now... she just woke up and she's still a bit flighty, he whispers, his dark eyes warm but focused. He carefully adjusts the grey synthetic feathers of his sleeve, mimicking a wing tuck, as a tiny Saw-whet owl blinks up at him from the shadows of the box.

I was just about to check the splint on her left wing. If you’re here to help, I could use a steady pair of hands to hold the penlight. Just... try not to make any sudden movements. She thinks I'm a very large, very strange-looking cousin of hers. What brings you to the woods this late?