[Rimbaud]

The dark and muggy airs of the forest felt oppressive to Fingot. He shifted uncomfortably on the branch he had alighted upon. This day had been an embarrassment to him, an affront to his dignity. He saw how Mitakaw's incaution had cost him dear. He decided, with his customary ruthlessness, to limit any damage. The young bird was on his own now; Fingot had his own position to worry about and other family members to protect and support.

He shook his head and ruffled his wings. He stretched out with his senses, taking the time for observation that younger birds would not. With his mind more clear, things started to click for him.

He knew tales of Fangorn that would cause others to flee in terror. He remembered one bird who had come back to him, a spy he had sent, oh...so many seasons past, an errand to dispose another chief. Another lifetime. The messenger creban had been tattered and weary, his eyes streaked with fear. His garbled tales of monstrous darkness, and trees that strangled crows sounded ridiculous, but Fingot had never forgotten the fear in the bird. The spy had died that same night, he recalled, clacking his beak irritably.

The air seeemed suffocatingly thick around them. The air was like mulch, he opened his beak wide to try and draw breath. He saw others of his retinue swaying as they sat. Akaaw seemed unaffected, sitting on the outermost tree, peering out at the battle with his keen eyes. With a shock, Fingot realised their number had fallen from the thirty. Birds were missing. Where was Grubclaw? Keka?

He gathered himself, his fear threatening to overwhelm him. He shook his head as he watched the chieftan. The branch that Akaaw was sitting on was curling and twisting, ever so slowly. The slender branches from the main bough appeared to be turning to imprison the large chief creban.

With a fumbled and hasty take-off, Fingot launched himself directly at Akaaw with a great "Carawk!". He heard and felt the birds around him rising up and fluttering in panic. Branches lashed through the air, and a great roaring could be heard. A smaller crow beside him was struck down by an imposibly agile branch, that swept down, the breath of its passing nearly knocking Fingot off-wing. The forest floor seemed fluid, roots writhing in the dirt.

He struck Akaaw in a flurry of feathers and tree bark. The chief flapped and cawed with great anger as they toppled from the branch. He felt leaves on his back and a great pressure on his leg and he felt himself falling.

Then, his mind paled away and all was darkness.

[ January 03, 2003: Message edited by: Rimbaud ]