Chapter 42. Fallen from the nest

by Vivienne

"Must be one of the mottles getting into something," Viv had said. Now, just a few moments later, I was stuck wrestling a chubby ratling to the ground, pinning him down no matter what he outweighed me.

"'Ey, Kap! Get on over -"

That's right, Kap was still off with the Doctor. And Ma was in the kitchen. Which left -

"Burrley! Dip into that ol' haversack I brought down. Git 'em somethin' t' quiet their stomachs an' fill their gobs!" I called out.

Then, I wrestled a paw free and gave the brat below me a firm shake by his neck. It made his head flop about like Marigold's old dolly. "Calm down, ye idjit."

"Burr, who'm be-a wantin' som o' this hurr fruit'n'nutters?" Her naturally deep voice was pitched high; her affected "mother tones" grated on me, the pale imitation of Ma that they were.

It was the work of a moment - a few wriggles through the throng of beasts in Great Hall - and I made it to the kitchen's doorway. An angry screech called out from within.

Ma! I barrelled through the door, gritting my teeth at the impact.

Carnage. I stood, frozen to the cool stone as my eyes ran across a pair of feathered figures cloaked in dark liquid. The buzzard was laying prone with mother above him, shooting me a worried glance.

Wait a second... that's not blood. I allowed myself to exhale, then inhale. I took in the scents of the room: fear, old smoke, and a deep, velvety berry. Jam.

Viv's voice came in a "Jinck, I don't know what happened. He just -"

She was cut off by a gurgle from Solgrim. Mother and I took a step back from the great mottled mass as he began to stir himself to waking. My eyes drifted down to his talons, which were flexing on the remains of a mass of green fabric and frayed white fluff - some kind of doll.

"Kahh." The buzzard exhaled the harsh exclamation, his head rising to glare at the threesome before him: me, Viv, and the ruined doll. They settled on the doll, then went wide, his beak curling up into a familiar snarl. "What did you do!"

The screech pushed both of us back a pace. Ma's wing smacked my paw as we both tried to shield the other from the buzzard. She spoke up: "Now, Solgrim, it was an accident. When you fell…"

"Shut up!" Solgrim began working himself into a fit, rending the cloth at his feet. "Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!"

Viv let me win out and inched her way to the door. I kept my gaze on the bird, but flared my nostrils, sniffing for yesterday's lunch and its cutting board - there to my left.

The buzzard's voice was thick with rage. "I'm finished with this. If I'm no mercenary, I have no treaty. You destroyed my property, you maggot. You attacked me outside. Your very existence mocks me. If I've no treaty, then I'll exact my revenge."

"Go on, Ma. Go see t' th' mottles. Burrley's tryin' t' keep 'em in line by herself." My voice came out slower than I expected. My heart was having none of it, though, and was beating furiously.

"Jinck…" She sounded unsure.

"Go on. I'll meet ye in there. 'S a fight that he wants."

"An' that's why I'm not -"

"Dammit, Ma!" I half-turned and gave her a shove. "Out! Don't argue, fer once. If it's with me, he'll have a scrap an' go. If it's you, he'll kill you."

Then he'll probably eat you, the savage.

"Weasel, you've not got a peck of sense if you think I'm going any-"

"Enough talk!" Solgrim cut our conversation short by lunging forward. We split, dodging in either direction. His talons gouged into the counter between us. I raced toward the fish-scent, snatching the carving knife as I ran by.

When I didn't feel the breeze of a set of wings at my tail, my heart hammered faster. I caught the edge of a table and spun.

Solgrim was pursuing Viv. She darted along the pot racks that dangled from the ceiling, always keeping a cast-iron shield between her and the buzzard. His beak snaked between the cookware, snapping at her tailfeathers. As she reached the end of the rack, he pecked one of the pans hard, sending it end over end into her.

His cry of victory drowned out her own squawk of distress. Both went silent; she lay still, knocked out from the blow. My vision blurred, except for Solgrim, who stood over her sharper and more colorful than ever. He smirked. "Come on then, whelp. Try to protect the maggot-loving wretch you call mother."

I growled low in my throat and moved around the table to the center of the kitchen. Solgrim stood his ground, and even placed a talon on mother's leg. "I could just squeeze, lad. Imagine her hopping about on one foot like a drunken heron."

"Stoppit!" My voice broke, now. "Leave 'er alone!"

He smiled. I remembered Viv saying that he savored this part most. He relished the moment before... "If you're going to stop me with that feeble knife, you'd best do it fast."

I charged. It was a stupid move and I knew it, but my vision had closed in on his talon on hers. I rushed forward, paws battling stones, and was met by a hard, feathered wall.

The world spun; red stone and brown feathers meshed into a sienna swirl as light blows knocked my head from side to side. My ears rang and my mouth ran dry. Still, I struck out with the knife, whipping it in front of me at the offending wings.

They paused mid-buffet, giving me enough of a reprieve to scrabble back, away from the buzzard. Mocking laughter followed me, as Solgrim settled back in to his position above ma. "Again, little mite?"

I got to my feet and shook my head, trying to clear out the fog that was trying to settle in there. I felt flushed, but my paw was cold on the knife's grip.

This time I didn't charge, but slid inside the range of his wings, keeping myself crouched low. When no attacks came from above, I hop-skipped forward and thrust at the great belly before me. A hiss punctuated my thrust.

The hiss turned to a gasp. I missed - Solgrim danced backward. A burning flare spread across my head, and I clapped a paw there.

I didn't need to see the white tuft to know what happened. A throb built up where my ear had been, matching my own pulse in intensity. The stink of the room melted away as I felt my focus sharpen.

I'm never gonna get 'im. He sees it every time. And then he'll... I heard a rushing in my ears. My limbs went numb, and a smoldering coal burnt in my belly. I stopped thinking. I moved.

My body leapt to the tabletop and shifted my weight to one side. Solgrim gave a squawk of surprise and stepped back. A clicking, guttural hiss worked its way out of me and I leapt again, twisting in midair and slashing out at the bird. The smell of blood exploded onto my senses, turning brown down into a bright orange - a vibrant target. I slithered low this time, almost along the ground. A talon struck near me; I felt a tightness in my side, but it was a trifle. I hopped toward the limb, not away. I lashed out again, was rewarded with more blood, more colors dancing before me - it shifted to a hazy pink, now. His worried shriek was a delight.

The pain in my side was nagging, like the kits inside trying to get my attention. I ignored it. I rose tall and rocked back and forth, willing the buzzard to move with me. He was most obliging, trying to peck wildly at me. My collar and bib burned now, too, but they still moved when I commanded.

He reared back, wings flapping at me, readying himself for a final blow.

I dove at him, at the hard muscles of his chest. The knife was too short to kill, and it stuck in his ribs. The heat and noise and blood finally made the world run red. My eyes narrowed and focused on his neck. I pushed off of the floor with my paws. I levered myself with the knife. He screamed in my ear and scratched at my back and tried to toss himself backwards.

But I found my mark. Through down and flesh, my teeth dug into his neck. Salt and sinew and pain all battered my mouth, but it knew better. It clenched. It tore. It clung to the struggling form beneath it.

Soon enough, the struggling stopped.

The struggling stopped.

Then, the world rushed back, hot and noisome, and the rushing in my ear quieted until I heard only two beasts breathing. The fountained pulse that had played on my tongue slowed to a trickle.

Oh Fates. Fates fates fates fates.

My claws clicked against the flagstones as I scrabbled away from the mangled body. My eyes darted to Viv's form, which was still, but breathing.

They were all right. They were right. I'm a vermin. I'm a killer. I'm - she won't want me, now.

I was sick, then.

I ran.

end of week four.