I stabbed over my shoulder, but that kind of shit leverage wasn’t getting me anywhere. If the creature so much as noticed the aimless flailing of my blade it didn’t deign to respond.

Unseen wings beat and the talons jerked me up higher, passing above the highest step of the pyramid and one step closer to the point of no return. I twisted to bring the rushing wind ahead into view and saw the trunk of the mystical murder tree rising from the pyramid directly ahead.

The creature banked, moving its body just enough to fly past the tree rather than into it. I seized my chance, grabbing hold as we shot past. My arm jerked taut with a pop and the talons scraped across my ribs as I was torn from its grip, leaving it with nothing more than a clawful of bloody rags.

I slammed back down onto the stone surface, skating across it and sliding off the edge to the next level down. I rolled to absorb the momentum as best I could and returned to my feet, turning to the next step lower. There was no way I was making it up a flat stone wall while something was poised to swoop down and snatch me off it, leaving the jungle below as my only cover.

I sprinted for the edge, right arm sending lances of pain shooting through me as it flopped uselessly at my side. I’d dislocated it at the least, if I was really fucking unlucky I might have sprained something.

An enraged screech cut through the air as I dived headfirst off the edge, but I was already gone by the time the beating wings swept past me. Of course, the beastie was just down a meal, I was plummeting headfirst to the unforgiving stone of the next level down.

I fully extended my good arm, letting it guide my fall so that by the time the rest of my body caught up I was already transitioning my momentum into a forward roll. Not a move I’d recommend to anyone with less than total bodily control, but luckily for me, that was one of my specialities.

Unluckily for me, no one had thought to tell my dislocated arm that. While the rest of me followed the leading arm in a descent carefully calibrated to keep any one body part from bearing more than it could take my right arm flopped about like a drunken fish, landing in exactly the wrong position and jolting with a tangible scrape of bone on bone.

I howled in pain, losing the control I’d maintained over the rest of my body and sprawling out across the stone. I choked my howling back to a restrained hiss as I ground to a stop. No time for pain.

I scrambled forward and up, regaining my feet once more and stumbling towards the next drop, each step sending new jolts through my body. I needed to reach the safety of the jungle below, nothing with wings could fly there.

Unless it didn’t have wings. I glanced about, but I could find no trace of my assailant, even in in the clear sky of this place.

Didn’t matter, even if it flew on stardust and moonbeams I’d be better off in the jungle than here. I just had to ask, why did the damn bastards build their step-pyramids so tall!?

I was in the middle of jumping down another level, hanging in the air, when the shadow fell.

I looked up, time seeming to slow to a crawl as I looked directly at the blinding sphere I knew was directly ahead, but I was not blinded. The light was blocked by a pair of upswept wings, each wider across than I was from head to toe. A raptor was swooping in at me, one the exact shade of incandescent yellow that the blinding light was, but without emitting any kind of illumination.

Kinda trippy to look at actually. Wasn’t a color you saw often.

And lethal. By waiting until I was in midair it eliminated my ability to change directions and made dodging impossible. This bird was no fool.

But it was no goblin either. I pivoted in midair, raising both legs and kicking out as the talons closed around me. My feet slammed into the bird’s chest and I shot myself backwards a hair’s breadth ahead of it’s grasping talons.

With that the eternal second was over and time snapped back to its normal speed. The bird streaked past and I slammed into the side of the level I’d just been jumping off of. From there gravity did the rest of the work and yanked me down to slam into the level beneath me.

Stars curse it, but I sure slammed into a lot of things. You’d think I’d be able to dodge that now that I had Dexterity, but no, I just had to keep sprinting straight into shit.

Oh, I recognized that rambling! I had a concussion. Helllllooooo concussion, my old friend, it's been so long!

I pushed myself up and managed to stand for a whole half second before I started to fall over again. I stepped forward just to keep my feet under my body, and just like that I was running again.

I let myself fall to my ass, sliding up to the edge and swinging over it. I hung from one arm before I fell, reducing the distance enough that I probably wouldn’t make any of the brain damage permanent. Although given my predilection for terrible life choices, maybe it was too late.

What can I say? They all made sense at the time.

I fumbled through a pouch as I came up on the next drop down. It was about time for that damn bird to make its next pass, and it would sure be nice to have a weapon right now. Even left-handed it would be better than nothing.

I jogged towards the edge, only to pick up speed at the last second, sprinting the last few feet and leaping off as far as my legs could take me. My ears twitched as I felt the rush of air brushing across the exposed skin, and I twisted to bring up my left arm.

I jabbed out with the dagger, driving it with the rotation of my body and relying on the bird’s own momentum to do the rest. I’d rather have had a set pike, but it still proved more than sufficient to pierce muscle on the wing’s downstroke and tear free in a spray of bloody feathers on the upstroke.

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

A feral grin grew on my face as I saw the feathers fade into view. Full flight feathers, not mere fluff. With my feinted leap to juke its grab and this damage to slow its flight I would be able to survive this after all.

Then its talons snatched on the back of one ankle and I was dragged into its tailspin. As the bird desperately flapped for lift only to spiral downwards I was spun around and around in its vise-like grip. All the world turned to a blur of greens and browns in every direction, but I could still feel the sinking feeling of the fall in my stomach and see the brown blur beneath me growing bigger.

We crashed through the canopy in a cacophony of cracks as branches shattered beneath our momentum and when the ground finally hit us it did so like a sledgehammer. Even with the impact spread out across my body I could hear ribs cracking, but whatever pain they might have sent me was drowned out by the tsunami of agony coming from my injured shoulder.

The centrifugal force had already pulled on my shoulder, but with the sudden force of landing far more tension was put on my poor joints and tendons than they had ever been meant to contain and I heard a distinct and sickening snap.

The talons locked around my ankle jerked an inch backward, dragging the rest of my body with it.

It was still alive?! I rolled over and looked down past the swimming double images of me feet to see a bloody and broken, but very much alive, bird. The thing’s shifting camouflage was definitively broken, revealing its full form for the first time. Almost a shame, as it must have looked majestic when it was fully intact. It was an immense raptor, with the broad wings and vicious talons of a hawk, but when as it turned to look down at me I saw it had the dished face and hooked beak of an owl.

Probably their wings too if I couldn’t hear the bastard. At least one of them was broken now, held out at an odd angle to compensate for the abrupt third joint halfway down its length. It wouldn’t be able to catch me.

But, I was reminded as it lifted me off the ground and raised me up towards its beak, it didn’t have to.

The pain of my injuries was finally matched by fresh panic and adrenaline as the guillotine blades of its beak opened, and I jammed my hand into a pouch and hurled a handful of whatever crap was on top at the owl’s face.

Half a dozen glittering glass vials flew threw the air to uselessly bounce off the owls feathers, but one, one glorious vial went straight into its open mouth.

The owl coughed as the glass bounced off the fleshy back of its throat. The owl’s beak snapped shut before I was able to get any of my more effective weapons out form their pouch, but my dreams of putting a blade through the roof of its mouth were not the only thing crushed by that beak.

The glass vial, thrown back by the owl’s gag reflex, shattered as it was caught between the incredible force of the monstrous owl’s beak. Fire bloomed five feet in front of my face, and the owl forgot about something as paltry as dinner in favor of stumbling backwards, screeching in panic and fanning its wings as if it thought it could ward off the fire.

I hit the ground again, but hey, at least I didn’t break anything this time. The owl was held its beak gaping wide open as it beat its wings about, struggling to find some predator to blame for its pain. Its antics were only adding to its suffering, the blazing chemical fire clinging to its chest and the inside of its mouth wasn’t some beast to be warded off, feeding the fire would only make it grow.

Or burn hotter, I amended. Flesh was poor fuel, it would sputter out as soon as the alchemical concoction was spent whether the flames were fanned or not.

I sat up slowly, loath to invite more agony. This was my chance to get the hell out, shrieks of pain attracted predators like honey attracted flies, and I wasn’t keen to be hanging about when they got here.

So I hobbled off, leaving the agonized screams of the erstwhile predator behind me.

It was dark down here, light largely blocked by the canopy once you got away from the hole we’d punched through it with our bodies. Not dark enough to phase a normal goblin, let alone me, but enough to be noticeable. The trees actually grew leaves here, when they didn’t above.

Damn bastards loved thorns just as much though. I’d give a shit about it any other day, but after what I’d just been through a few thorn pricks weren’t worth the bother of avoiding. I just hobbled through the branches and let the little spikes tear off in my clothes. The ones on the smaller branches weren’t super intimidating anyway, which was good, cause I’d need to use them.

I tore off the thinnest branches that I passed. I didn’t get anything thicker than about switch size, the kind that would sting without risking pointless damage. I wasn’t building a house here and I couldn’t afford to dally.

The shrieking behind me rose in pitch before cutting off abruptly. That was my cue to abandon resource collection in favor of something that made less noise. The scent of blood drew predators, and there was no guarantee that there’d be enough meat to satisfy them all.

I hobbled up to a trunk and nestled up in its roots, setting my branches aside. The roots rose from the base in high blades, forming a wall on either side. It wasn’t what I’d call secure, but at least any attack would have to come from the front. Or above. I shivered and glanced upwards, but found nothing but the swaying branches of the canopy.

So. I was injured and exhausted, but at least I was out of the open. Huddling up against a tree might not be as secure as I’d like, but nothing could see me from a distance through the jungle foliage and I smelled like shit. I was the filthiest I’d ever been, but while sweat and blood would be mouth-watering to any predator with a nose, ghoul ichor was distinctly less appetizing, and I was slathered in it.

Score one for goblin hygiene.

I carefully withdrew a blade and inspected it. A wide, hacking knife, almost closer to a shovel or hatchet than a proper dagger. I shook my head and put it back. With this much variety you’d think he’d have found room for a proper battlefield weapon, but no, Garrett just choose a thousand different kinds of dagger.

After a few more tries I found the kind of weapon I wanted, a shorter hooked dagger that could easily disembowel any foe that got close enough. It wouldn’t be my first choice, but if something jumped me in the night I couldn’t count on maintaining my distance.

Did this place have a night? I supposed I would find out, but not quite yet. I might want nothing more than to curl up and rest, but that didn’t mean I had an excuse to ignore my wounds. I might not have forgotten the bulk of my mother’s careful ministrations and precise knowledge, but I still had the common sense to know that when a joint got fucked up it would only get worse on its own.

Of course, that lack of precise knowledge meant I was reduced to exposing the area and prodding at it to figure out the problem. I drew a critical conclusion from this experimentation: it really fucking hurt to touch, but not nearly so bad as when I tried to move it.

I began to massage the muscle, exerting gentle pressure and wincing through the pain. My efforts proved fruitless, however, the pain only grew and the socket remained stubbornly out of place. I knew this worked! I’d seen Mom ease joints back in place with barely so much as a whimper!

But I just didn’t have the skill to do the same. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but I’d just have to get over it. My mother’s talents had died with her, and the goblin way would work just as well.

It’d hurt one hell of a lot worse though.

Luckily injuries of all kinds were common in the warrens, and I’d seen a Hob with this same injury. He’d who had neither needed nor asked for anyone’s help, it would be his example I followed.

I maneuvered the limb into about the right place, then leaned lightly against the root to my right before heaving my body weight into it. My arm popped back into place with a surge of pain and even my mental readiness could only restrain my scream back into a pitiful whimper.

Well, at least that was done with. I rolled my shoulder and immediately flinched as tears of pain formed in my eyes.

Star’s damn it. I’d torn something there to, hadn’t I? No choice about it, the limb was unuseable. I sighed and set to securing it in a sling. That wouldn’t cure it, but it would prevent me from making it worse and allow the body’s own natural heali-—

FUCKING HEALING POTIONS!!! I had those! I bumped my face into the root next to me. Stars above, how had I forgotten that? They were the only one of those unlabeled death traps I could actually identify and I just forgot about them? Fucking moron.

I quaffed one, and immediately the pain eased... but not completely. Huh. I rolled my shoulder experimentally and found the wound remained wince-worthy, but to the point of tears. So, these potions had their limits. Inconvenient, but better to find them now than later. I wasn’t a complete idiot after all, I’d still need to sling the limb.

I considered just downing another potion, but they were ultimately a limited resource, and even just one had already made a huge difference. Going from crippling to annoying was enough to satisfy me, a few days wearing a sling was worth it to keep an extra potion in reserve.

I reached for my branches and gave myself a light covering. It wouldn’t fool any determined examination, but there was a point where the risk of wandering about exhausted became worse than accepting imperfect camouflage.

Wound treated, I drifted off into a fitful sleep with one eye open.