She took his arms with surprising gentleness and began to wrap the bandage around his arm. "There we go. See? Not bad."
"I'm in such a weak state," he replied, putting down the bandages. "I was nearly driven mad, chained up, and had my feathers cut. It's gotten to where you have to even help me."
"Heaven forbid," she said sarcastically, bandaging his ankles, "that you have to have a human help you."
She paused before looking up and smiling slightly. "Well, I'm flattered. What about your wings? Can I help them at all?"
The medic turned their head to observe the wing. "Generally, clipped wings will grow back once the feathers molt. Molting happens one to three times a year."