Madara crooned soothingly as he felt along Tsuki's battered wings, praying silently that the damage was limited to her flight feathers - temporarily grounding her, perhaps, but something that could be easily recovered from, as broken bones in her wings might not.

She was hooded and her jesses tied, but she fought anyway, screeching and thrashing in Madara's grasp. Madara counted himself lucky she trusted him enough that while she was fighting him, she had not laid open his hands or arms too badly . . . yet.