Rick stood rigid, his face twisting with pain, a hand clutching his upper arm. The greenish bird hovered in the air, its wings a blur of motion.
"We are friends. We are friends. Bother us not, friend-pet!" Johnny clicked deep in his throat. The bird continued to hover, its little purple eyes darting back and forth from Johnny to the wounded Rick. Its bloody head stayed in arrow position, but it drifted farther away.
Johnny remembered that when he had had an arrow-bird on his shoulder, the others had left him alone. He dreaded changing his command, but he did.
"Come to your friend," he clicked firmly. The arrow-bird stared at him distrustfully, but came closer. The monkey dropped back on Johnny's head. With a sigh of relief, Johnny saw the arrow-bird's head snap out of attack position. He put out his hand and the arrow-bird lit on it.
"Are you hurt bad, Rick?" he asked. The words made the arrow-bird flutter with alarm, but Johnny soothed it by petting it with his other hand.
Rick shook his head.
"Not too bad," he said through clenched teeth. "The thing seemed to dodge when you made that clicking noise."
"I'm sorry, Rick," Johnny said. "You just shouldn't have shown that gun—you'll have to leave it behind. If they think you'd harm any of them, they'll kill you, just like that. The monkeys almost got me 'cause of a pocket knife."
"I didn't know," Rick said. He looked at the bird on Johnny's shoulder. "Seems peaceful enough now."
"You better let him sit on your shoulder, Rick." Johnny looked down at the arrow-bird and stroked it again. When it was quiet he placed it on Rick's shoulder. The man was nervous and the bird was worried, but they both did as they were told.