Nhodd screams as the searing pain in his wing becomes impossibly sharper, agony lancing up into his shoulder. It is impossible to obey the order to remain still, though perhaps he obeys it in spirit considering he manages only to writhe on the ground. The wreckage of his wing consumes his comprehension -- how dare they, how could they -- so that for a few seconds he doesn't comprehend Asadi's demand, only the threat that accompanies it. His unbroken wing wrenches itself in tight, folding as close to his body as it can though it trembles with sympathetic pain for the other.

"Stop!" he howls, halfway between a demand and a plea. His shaking hands wrap themselves around Rush's foot, trying to lift it or at least to stop it pressing down any harder. "Get off me!"