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HT 30: Wild Bird Chase

HT 30: Wild Bird Chase

Howling Thunder Ch30: Wild Bird Chase

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Walking up the couple steps from the workshop I spot Mora at the shop counter.

With a light hop I sit on the counter in front of her, “Didn’t feel like stopping Copper?”

She doesn’t drop the book but I hear her mumble, “It sounded like you were finished.”

I can’t help but chuckle a little at how shy she is, I‘m sure it’s a result of her growing up in the Bastion.

“We got what we wanted, the bird girl was a tad eager to spill everything to her friend. I actually feel sort of bad about it, regardless we’ll need to hurry back to the castle.”

Ulfa walks up and speaks in a hushed tone, “You should just kill the girl now.”

My mind blanks in surprise, “What? Why? I just told Lupa I wouldn’t harm her, where is this even coming from?”

She shakes her head, “No matter what you come up with, nothing will turn out well if you leave her. You're about to inform on her family who will likely be deemed traitors and killed. How do you think the stupid bird girl will see you after that? If you keep her around it wouldn’t be strange at all for her to put a knife in yours or your family’s back. You’d be such a fool to leave a threat to your future pups unchecked.”

Mora actually nods in agreement, “It seems a large risk that is entirely unnecessary.”

...I know they’re right, but today won’t be the day I choose to be a monster.

“She’ll be confined for now in the castle...I’ll have her judged with the rest of her family, maybe.”

Even that leaves a lump in my throat, it really is just passing off the responsibility to someone else. Why do I feel like a coward all of a sudden?

“Let’s just get her back to the castle.” I start walking towards the front door.

Ulfa softly speaks up, “Making the hard choice for your family is part of being an Alpha, pup. That axe has seen a river of blood in the hands of your father. The wind has carried away mountains of ash from your mother’s flames. The history of Terra is written in,”

“Enough!” I cut her off, “I have a mind, I won’t have you deciding it for me, same goes for Freki.”

Mora’s eyes widen at the last word and she looks to Ulfa who scowls.

Opening the door, “A day may very well come when I think back and say to myself that you were right. I won’t regret anything however, no, I’ll live with my choices and keep moving forward.”

Sunlight pours in, blinding me, I turn back, more than a little annoyed now.

Standing in the frame of the door, “The Turul girl will live, I gave my word to my wife, at the very least that should mean something.”

I walk out into the square, Copper and the guard are wheeling out a cart from around back with the crate loaded. The afternoon sun amplifies the heat from the forges. My tail feels uncomfortable as the wisps of fog within struggle against the dry air. The den was always in the shelter of the cave and the Blackwood.

Seems I’m weakened by the midday sun...that’s just great.

An irritated bark escapes me, “Move your ass Copper!”

My ears catch his mumble, “Yup, Miss Lupa was a perfect choice for him.”

Asta pops out from behind me and looks up at my face before grabbing my arm, “There’s the grumpy fuzzy I know. Come on, you can tell me everything on the way!”

She smiles and starts pulling me along, her arm feels cool against mine. Stepping up to her side I can feel the effect from the heat disappear, it’s soothing and I can feel my muscles relax. I really did miss her, and I’m sure the dumb grin on my face lets her know it.

A short while later and we’re plodding along in the carriage. Asta, and I sit across from Mora and Ulfa, the crate back on top.

Asta tells me of how she thinks it’s unfair that everyone treats Sassa like the angel of the academy but she, herself has to do extra assignments and classes. No doubt there is an entire other side to this that Asta is conveniently leaving out but I just smile.

We hit a particularly rough bump in the street, Ulfa suddenly sits up straight.

Her eyes flicker before she looks at the ceiling, “We have a problem, we’re surrounded, Maug is coming as fast as he can.”

With Asta and Mora here there is no option of slipping away. The carriage seems to be speeding up.

I look to Ulfa, “Anything you can do about it?”

She shakes her head, “It’s mid afternoon, don’t expect much from Maug and I.”

“What a fun day.” I sigh and poke my head out the side window.

Our driver is nowhere in sight, a Turul man has taken the reins. Dozens more of the feathered bastards are circling us in the sky, spears on their backs, one spots me and smirks. I think it's safe to assume the older brother found out his sister is missing.

Pulling my head back, “Well, Asta, Mora, time to show you do more than read books all day.”

While Asta is obviously excited, Mora grimaces as I take out her bone spear. A small red spark flits up it as I hand it over. A slight hesitation of Mora’s hand shows her reluctance, but a fierceness flickers in her eyes as she then grabs it firmly.

Jealousy is plain as day on Asta’s face, she bites her lip as she sees the ice forming at the spear tip.

She spins to me, eyes big like a puppy, “I want one!”

I laugh, “You don’t even use a spear!”

With a pout she shuts her eyes and places her hands in front of her as if she was holding a ball. She mutters something and the temperature drops in the carriage as wisps of frost swirl into the space between her fingers. Soon an oversized snowflake takes shape, it grows larger and larger with each layer of frost before splitting into two mirrored rings that spin and separate, moving over her wrists.

Opening her eyes, a big toothy grin, “Let’s go wild!”

I nod, take out my own trident and kick open the side door.

Grabbing the upper ledge I swing out and onto the roof. Stepping forward I give a solid kick to the head of the driver who sees me too late. His mouth goes slack as he tumbles off to the side.

“Ulfa take the reins!”

Ulfa hops out and takes the driver seat, Mora hops out and begins flying alongside of us.

Dozens of arm length icicles begin firing from the carriage doorway at a rapid rate towards the birdmen above. I can hear Asta’s laughter and peeking back, she’s facing her palms to the sky with hardly any aim, the snowflake rings spinning, the icicles forming in a swirl at their center.  

The ruffians begin diving us, making swings with their spears or clubs as they pass. The wagon speeds along the cobbled streets, people duck inside doorways to avoid getting caught up.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Yells of fear and anger sound out as we pass.

The bumps in the road rock us sharply at this speed as I struggle to hold my footing.  Sparks fly each time my trident knocks away an attack. Mora brutally attacks at the wings of anyone approaching the other side. A trail of brown feathers rains on the road in our wake as more and more turul warriors arrive.

“Ulfa get us off the main street, we need cover!”

As I say that a rain of thrown spears hits the roof all around me, the wails of horses sound as they collapse. Ulfa cuts the ropes before they even hit the ground, the carriage wheels smash over them and nearly flips us over. A timely shoulder slam from Mora against the side keeps everything rolling forward at a breakneck speed.

Laying on the roof I see chunks of wood clatter to the street behind us, “I don’t know what the Anubi did to this ride but I seriously doubt it will last another round of that. Ulfa be a big doggie!”

She scowls but then looks to an alleyway, a grin shows as a large black warg races out and grabs a mouth full of ropes. Ulfa shifts to the same form and takes the other worg’s side.

Maug and Ulfa pull us into a side road with the sound of creaking wheels. The turul swoop the tight corner in pursuit between the tall white buildings, dodging under and above the many aqueducts.

Our pair of wargs keep an eye to the sky, side stepping as more spears rain down.

Mora nimbly evades, rolling towards the buildings, running along the alley walls before kicking off, flapping her scaly grey wings and charging a diving bird man.

Another bird takes an ice spike to the wing as I hear Asta yell out, “This is soo much better than class!”

Whilst blasting an oncoming bird with sparks, “I bet.”

Laughter comes from Mora as she grabs a man by the head with large icy talons and tosses him into someone’s window, “Haha, This is too easy!”

Well I’m glad you two aren’t having any problems. The afternoon sun is still rendering my fog hardly worth using.

Several birdmen attack at once, I zap one but another gets close.Barely leaning away, I grab his spear and pull the man down from the air. As he tumbles down I send a fist into his jaw. He falls to the ground, rolling to a stop as we pull away.

The other fool lands on the roof with unsteady footing just in time for me to hop towards him feet first with a flying kick to his chest. We both shoot off the backside but I grab the edge of the wagon, a sharp tug nearly rips me right off however. 

Looking back, the bastard has grabbed onto my ankle and is now flailing as he flaps his other wing to recover.

I give him a wide grin, "You got some really bad luck there birdy."

His eyebrows raise in confusion just as a blinding flash of red light bursts from my tail as a shower of sparks sends the poor guy away and onto the road. While laughing I quickly pull myself back onto the roof.

Asta yells forward, “Head for the academy! It should be near here.”

Maug yanks the ropes and turns us again down another street, this one down hill.

Sparks and ice fly from us at the turul as they swoop the corner, I fog shift as I barely notice a spear from above in time. The thrower quickly meets Mora’s spear point. A patch of ice is left in his wound as he plummets from the sky.

Another three turul take his place however and throw more spears. It’s getting harder and harder to avoid them as the carriage bounces along the street. Another high speed turn onto a larger street nearly tips us over.

Asta and I lean out over the other side to balance us out again. People continue to scream and dive away from the carriage with parts flying off being pulled by two massive, black wolves. Thirty odd turul rebels remain in pursuit, some in the sky above, others flying low out of the side street we just left.

We bounce once more and I grab the crate to steady myself, firing another arc at a diving birdman.

Asta yells, “There’s the school!”

Up ahead is a massive pair of grey towers, they aren’t even straight! They twine around each other, bridges spanning between them at irregular intervals. At the top I can see a pair of spikes from each tower that twist together, the important part being that they’re currently sparking with massive bolts of energy forming a ball at the top.

Booming of thunder shakes the surroundings as a massive bolt of real lighting races across the sky from the towers towards us. Just before reaching us it shatters into several dozen smaller bolts. Each one spreads out and hits one of the Turul men.

A voice echoes from the sky, “Scram you stupid buzzards, or I’ll be eating bird for dinner.”

The raiders scramble in the air to regain control before weakly dispersing.

Asta yells out the side while laughing, “That's right! Fry’em Gramps!”

Looking ahead I see the hulking frame of a wingless, white dragon jump from the top of the towers. Wisps of blue clouds swirl about the massive creature as it slowly descends as if it was merely sinking in water. It’s form is somewhat wolf like, if the wolf stood on hind legs and was tall as a house. His intimidatingly large maw features a blue beard which matches his long whiskers and blue mane which extends down his scaly tail which is easily four times his body length.

As we approach, it lands in front of the academy and begins to shrink. By the time we pull to a stop we are greeted by an older man who looks to be at the back half of his prime. His blue hair is slicked back between two, curved white horns. I spot a grin within his pointed,  bluebeard. He’s wearing a white, loose robe with blue cloud patterns. It’s clearly of the same oriental style as the ones Mother wears.

He points to Maug and Ulfa, “You minions lock it up in the stables and keep guard.”

Now to us, “And you, Asta, get back in your room before Hyndla gets here. Boy, you and the wyrm girl follow me to my office, and put that damned spear away!”

The powerful authority in his tone would make anyone forget to question his orders.

Ulfa and Maug both bow their heads, “Yes Lord Raijin.”

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A/n sooo much fkn proofreading lol

I tweeted a bit of art that i liked when thinking about the raijin.

also I put out another chap of the side story earlier this week if ya feel like checking that out.