human
Now then, said Charles,
gpt
So he slowly began to open his hands, and Fanny began to blow the little bird's feathers with her mouth close down to him, to blow them on one side that they might see where he was hurt. But no bruise or scratch could be found. Presently, however, Charles said,
human
O, I see what has happened. The boys in running after him have trod upon his feet, and bruised them dreadfully. They are all red, and swelled, and crooked, and I do not believe they can ever get properly well again. His little claws have been twisted and broken. He will never be able to hop about any more; and I am sure he can never perch upon a twig. He will have nothing to hold fast with. What _is_ to become of him?
gpt
He will die, said she,