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I... we needed a little extra time to process events. Maryse's contrition is true, and I was - and am - grateful beyond words to have Lucinda by my side through this. But we can delay no longer.
The forest is hauntingly quiet once more. Nothing dares make a sound, even the wind lies stilled. I occasionally glimpse a stray glowwyrm gliding between branches, their tails dull and dim like a lantern running on fumes. We return to my cottage for supplies and to prepare; razorbeaks are every bit as lethal as the headsman's axe, and less discerning still. Melina, Lucinda, and I split up, each to a separate room to prepare. I know we must stay light on our feet, though; a razorbeak can crush plate armor, our only viable recourse is to avoid being hit. But they can also strike at range, and so I bring a small satchel of poultices, bandages, and salves. That and my ever-reliable sword are all I expect to need, or to be able to use.
I return to the parlor to find Melina already prepared. I see healer's tools at her side as well, and Maryse's shortsword. I raise an eyebrow at that, and Maryse explains, "That knife of hers would break against these. She can borrow my extra blade." Well-reasoned and true; their hides are tough and their bones are nigh impenetrable. We wait for Lucinda for some short time, and a door opening takes my attention. She steps out, looking... different. She wears a red tunic over a shirt the color of charcoal, with a black half-skirt and dark blue pants. What catches my eye first though is that her hair is no longer worn loose, but tied back in a long high ponytail. As she steps closer, I see an archer's bracer on her left arm along with an asymmetric chest guard. In her hand, a modestly-decorated bow of excellent craftsmanship, one I can tell is well-maintained.
But she's so averse to violence, to causing pain. "Lucinda, dear, are you.. are you certain?"
"When I was but a girl, my elder brothers taught me of the bow," she replies, her explanation starting obliquely. "They wished to bring me along on their hunts when I was ready. I was, and they did, but I could not loose an arrow 'gainst a helpless animal." She sighs, shaking her head. "But this is different. The pack is relying on us, and I shan't let them down. And this bow, and the training... that is all I have of my family. I hope to make them proud."
Her mind is clearly set. I'll not take that from her, even as I worry for her safety. "I'm certain you will," I offer, a slight smile hopefully concealing my anxieties. "For this hunt, we are to follow Maryse. This is what she does, what the Silverblades do," I say, instructing dear Lucinda and my apprentice on my expectations.
"Morgan, I fear this will be difficult for you," Maryse begins with clear trepidation, "But I need to know where the dead warg was found."
I feel my heart breaking anew, thinking back to the poor animal's terrible wounds. But she's right, that's the only clue we have on their specific location. "Yes... I will get through. Come, we mustn't tarry," I say, gesturing for us to leave. In truth though, the instruction was for myself.
I feel as a passenger in my own body as I guide Maryse to the site, my conscious mind willing itself to passivity in fear of what I will see in that horrid place. It is with relief and terror that I find nothing there. I know the site with total certainty, the trees and rocks exactly as I've seen them in my nightmares. But there are no bodies. There is scarcely even any recognizable blood. I-
"Morgan!" Maryse calls, catching me as I sway near to collapse. I shake myself back to present and regain my footing. I must be mindful, I must be aware, but I so deeply do not want to be. I want to simply crawl into a hole.
𝐍𝐨.I must remain strong, for Lucinda, for Melina, and for the pack.
I nod to Maryse to wordlessly signal that I'm fine, and she looks around the site. "Mm. Scratch marks on some trees, and..." She steps up to one tree and pulls out something that's stuck to it. "Scales. So they struck from that direction," she says, pointing off to our left.
"Does that tell us anything?" Melina asks. "They could have attacked from a different direction than their nest."
"Could have. Wouldn't," Maryse replies, wrapping scales in a cloth and putting them in her bag. "They cannot sustain speed. They strike hard and fast, overwhelming their prey with brute force rather than agility. Additionally..." she trails off, holding a finger to the air. "The wind is blowing opposite that direction. They prefer building their nests upwind from their hunting grounds."
"Upwind?" Melina repeats.
"Mmm. I know, it sounds backward, but I'll show you why when we get there," Maryse affirms, gesturing for us to follow.
Along the way we see more signs of razorbeaks. Occasional cracked scales, shed rather than weaponized. Trampled underbrush, snapped branches, and disrupted leaflitter. A hollow log that gave out under a heavy weight. The signs get more frequent as we go, proving true Maryse's explanation. We happen upon a suspicious pile of sticks and leaves, and Maryse nods. "We're here. Take a look inside, Melina. Carefully, now."
Melina does as instructed, dropping to one knee to see what Maryse was talking about. "Eggs."
"We should destroy them," I say instinctively, that vengeful facet shining through once more.
"We must not," Maryse replies firmly. "Were we to smash them, they would release a powerful odor that would alert any nearby razorbeaks that their nest was attacked. They would come running, enraged."
Melina stands slowly, tapping her fingers along her jawline. "Then... we could use that," she says, half-intentionally. "We break one from a distance. That will call them to the site, but we will not be there."
Maryse smiles and looks to me. "You were right, your apprentice is good."
"But only one of us could do that, unless you've been practicing your archery," I say. "Lucinda, I hesitate to ask, but..."
"I will," she replies immediately. "With beasts like these, we must take every advantage we can."
"For future reference," Maryse adds, "Another approach can be to flood the nest with water. Collapse its supports to cover the eggs in the nesting material, then break the eggs underwater. The oils that release the stench will cling to the underside of the saturated nest material, granting ample time to make good your escape."
"That must be only a temporary solution," I say as Maryse kneels down with a soft cloth bag. "If the mated parents are still present..."
"They would not for long be present," Maryse replies, carefully reaching for one egg and delicately placing it in the bag. "If a nest is destroyed and they cannot find its attacker, they will relocate. The problem being that we don't know where they would then go, so Melina's idea is best."
She carefully holds the bag at arm's length to ensure it doesn't bump against her, and I see Melina turning a discarded pinion scale over in her hand. "... Could we modify one of these as an arrowhead?" she asks.
"Mm. Knapping. I've done it a time or two, but it's scarcely worth the effort. These scales are very hard," Maryse says, with no effort to hide her curiosity about where Melina's taking this.
Melina looks to us with a smile, one that I know well - she has an idea, and she's proud of it. "It might work better without, anyway. What if we hit the egg with one or two of these? They likely wouldn't know what an arrow is, but they'd recognize their own scales."
"Morgan, I'm going to have to abduct your apprentice," Maryse laughs, shaking her head at the audacity of the plan - and at her knowledge that it may work. "We'll do it. Lucinda, I'll help you with that when we get this into position."
We travel upwind one hundred meters, and place the egg on another damaged log. This one seems to have simply succumbed to rot, though. It has a small indentation the right size to hold the egg, though not perfectly, and then we continue to walk further upwind, another two hundred meters. From this distance I can scarcely see the egg, and even that much only because I know where it is. "Are we sure this shot can be made?" I ask.
"I will do it," Lucinda says firmly. Maryse nods, trusting in her confidence, and helps her fasten a matched pair of pinion scales to her arrowhead. One on each side, each parallel to the arrowhead and to each other. I watch as she takes a position on a slightly elevated rise, and as she draws the bowstring back with her left hand, I am struck by her confidence and her clarity.
"Wait," Melina interrupts. Lucinda relaxes the bowstring. "What if it comes from behind us?"
"Won't matter," Maryse replies. "We're far enough away that it will only stop for us if we force it. Otherwise, it'll run right past to get to the scene of the crime."
"Good enough for me," I say. "Apologies, dear Lucinda, you may proceed."
Lucinda draws her bow once more, and I feel a shift in the ambient ephemera. Her calm, clarity, and stillness have spread to the energies around her, and the whole world feels as though it has stopped, though this may be my own anxieties about if the plan fails. She looses the arrow and readies another, this one unscaled. Her first arrow seems to have found its mark, though I mostly know this from her own expression as I still cannot clearly see it. Before long, we hear a frenzied rustling downwind of us, and a pair of razorbeaks burst into view at the site of their shattered egg. They are large creatures, three meters long by my estimation, with four legs, a long tail, and seemingly-vestigial wings mounted directly above the forelegs. She fires once more and her arrow finds its mark, one of the beast's legs. Both turn to rush toward us together, but one is hobbled and slowed. It seems Melina's attempt to set them against each other failed. Another arrow, again toward the wounded one, to another leg. Maryse and I draw our blades as Lucinda readies a third arrow. This one strikes the head of the then-unwounded beast, and as it closes the distance I see blood dripping into its eyes.
From an estimated 65 meters, it flaps its wings forcefully, and a volley of pinion scales flies toward us. However, because of Lucinda blinding it, most do not find home. One deflects off the top of Maryse's shoulder armor, another nicks my arm. Maryse and I rush toward the blinded one and position ourselves such that it remains between us and the hobbled but unblinded razorbeak. The beast panics when my sword grazes its jaw, and suddenly lunges toward me, almost getting its jaw around my arm before I'm able to dive away. Maryse swings several times as she flits around, hoping to confuse the creature about where its attackers are.
Then I hear a scream. "LUCINDA!" I shout. No, not now, no no no no-
"Still holding together," Melina replies. "She's hurt but still on her feet."
"Still shooting," Lucinda adds. Another arrow finds its mark, piercing the throat of the razorbeak we were fighting. This gives me a moment to see what had happened. Lucinda is bleeding from the outer side of her right thigh, bleeding more than I'd hoped.
"Hold fire, Lucy," I call, waving Melina forward. "This has to end fast. Surround it!"
We do so, with me going to the creature's right, Maryse to the left, and Melina flitting around to approach without being hit. Its turning is slow and labored, as I'm sure Lucinda had planned. But it's still fast enough to surprise me, and as it turns to lunge toward Maryse, its tail slams into my side, knocking me off my feet. By the time I regain my footing, the beast lies dead, Maryse's sword piercing through its throat and Melina's shortsword through one eye. Maryse wrenches her blade free and jogs to my side. "Talk to me, Morgan. You still intact?"
"Bruised, winded," I reply, mostly steady on my feet. I rush to Lucinda, stumbling over some branches as I do. "Let me see," I say, pulling her pants open to the side so I can examine her wound. I notice that she looks somewhat flushed and I realize I almost undressed her in front of everyone, but I need to tend to her wounds. "Looks like... agh." Yes, I'm definitely bruised and I hope it's nothing more. "Looks like it's shallow. Clipped you, but hit a vein when it did. I can- I can deal with this," I say. "Do you two mind?" I ask, gesturing for Melina and Maryse to turn around. Maryse laughs quietly and shakes her head, but both do as I request, which gives me a chance to apply treatment. A salve to prevent infection, a poultice to promote healing, a bandage of woven ivydown fibers wrapped and secured tightly to ensure it stays. I have her pace around some to see if the bandage is comfortable, and she seems to handle it well. "Alright, you two," I call.
Maryse and Melina turn and return to our side. Melina asks, "So what can we do with those?" gesturing toward the fallen.
"Mm. I don't have proper tools but I may still be able to get some passable hide," Maryse muses. "And the bones are easy enough. Their hides and bones have value in armor, owing to their unique resilience. The scales can be used in our craft, the Silverblades use them for some of our brews."
"Are we- ow! Are we sure it was just those two?" Lucinda asks, wincing from lingering pain.
"Razorbeaks mate for life and are very territorial. They would not abide others save for their own young," Maryse replies. "Morgan, you bring Lucinda back. Melina, come with me so we can deal with that nest."
"On it. See you soon, Morgan," Melina replies, following Maryse off toward the nest.
Lucinda giggles suddenly and I look at her, with likely-obvious confusion. "Oh, I was just thinking about some old stories I'd read. Romances where people find love in battle."
I smile, despite my own pain. "Mm, but we already found each other."
She looks back over her shoulder. "Yes, we did. But I wonder..."
An eyebrow raised, I try to figure out what she means. "Hold. You think Melina-"
"It could happen!" she replies with a grin.
"Doubtful. I don't think Melina's her type," I retort, stifling an amused laugh. I'm glad that after all this, we can still joke like this. "I think you just read too many books."
"You should already know, Morgan, that there is no such thing as 'too many books'." And she's right, I don't have a response for that. We set off for home together, knowing Melina and Maryse will be back before dinner. Knowing also that we're both going to need some time to rest, especially her; I don't want that wound opening up again.
