A dark feathered bird looked down from its perch in an old oak tree. Instead of idly surveying the forest as crows often do, this one was watching one figure in particular. Loch crept through the forest, not noticing the curious eyes following his every movement. His attention was turned to a larger quarry.

The crow knew that the deer Loch was hunting had been scarce and that made the humans uneasy. It seemed like a pity to the crow. Humans couldn’t fly after all. They were stuck to the ground; stuck where they built their large wood and stone nests. When the food left, they were much slower to leave.

While the crow was lost in his thoughts, Loch had managed to stalk out of view. The crow let out a caw of self-admonition and started hopping along the branch to build up a little speed, letting his wings catch some wind before spreading them wide and bearing himself aloft. Its keen eyes peered down, but the human was proving himself to be good at masking his presence from animals.

Another caw of frustration emanated from the crow as he dipped his beak downward, gliding quietly to a waiting branch. After a few tense moments of searching, the crow laid eyes on Loch again. The human was getting close to his goal.

Perhaps a more decent crow might have warned the creature, but the crows owed naught to any other beast, feathered or furred. So, for now, the crow would watch, and learn, and—if the time was right—judge.

In the mind of Loch, it was the recent rain that was the deer’s undoing. The softened ground made its tracks more visible than normal, and they were fresh. But, more worrying, Loch had spotted a much larger set of tracks. Monstrous tracks. But it was always a gamble trekking this far into the woods.

Loch’s tracking led him silently through a patch of dense underbrush to the edge of a shallow creek. Trained human eyes scanned the far bank, and in the distance, Lock spotted the deer, bent down for a drink.

It was a mixture skill and fortune that kept him from being seen, but Loch recognized his chance. Slowly, tempering his excitement with discipline, Loch notched an arrow and took aim. In that moment, the crow found the opportunity he was waiting for. He dove from his perch, using his wings to glide into the bush Loch was hiding in.

In its excitement, the bird failed to account for the flimsy limbs of the smaller plant. As it landed, the branch bent under the bird’s weight. Panicked, the bird let out a loud caw as it fell to the ground. Despite the unexpected fall, the crow accomplished what it wanted to. Loch’s concentration faltered, and the arrow missed its mark.

Loch breathed a curse, looking down at the small crow who scrambled to get up. It ruffled its feathers, picking at a few with its beak when they didn’t lay down. “Why did you do that?” Loch asked with a defeated voice.

The crow just stared up at him, tilting his head to the side with curiosity. “Shoo, bird,” Loch said, acting like he was about to strike at the small creature. The crow didn’t move, and Loch’s hand stopped short. The bird hopped to the side, looking past the fist to the man behind it.

“Damn bird,” Loch grumbled, slinging his bow over his shoulder and walking to pick up his arrow. “I’ve been tracking that deer for more than a day. You just had to swoop down at the last minute, didn’t you?”

Caw.

“Why do you sound smug?”

Loch sighed, “I must be going crazy. I’m talking to a bird.”

Caw.

“Fly back home before I decide to skewer you instead.”

Obediently, the crow spread his wings and took off, flying until he was out of sight of the human. Loch watched it go, utterly confused by the entire encounter. He knew that if he was lucky, he could maybe track the deer down again before it got dark. But that meant he would face the decision of having to either hike home in the dark or camp for the night with a dead deer. Neither good choices.

Loch decided he would find the deer if he could but wait until morning to kill it. That would give him a day to make it back to the village. It was doable at least. Loch nodded to himself, his mind was made up.

Secretly, the crow followed his unusual interest as he followed the deer in turn. The dumb animal was frightened, and with the steady rise of monsters in the area, it would go farther than normal until it felt safe.

Of course, safety was always a false promise. This was not the world of their ancestors. The crows knew this, but they were clever, and crafty. They knew how to avoid the unnatural beasts, but with few exceptions they were unique in that fact. In the first days after the Fall the crows feasted on the carrion left behind. Their numbers grew great, but then…The monsters kept killing. They killed and killed; hunting natural animals to near extinction. And then, there was less food for all.

While the clever crow thought about the monster scourge, Loch was proving his skills as a tracker and a hunter. The terrain had been steadily growing more mountainous. Rocky outcroppings began to appear more often as the ground swelled into hills and dropped into valleys.

They were getting close to the edge of the Cairn Ring; the crow could feel the old magic like a hum in his beak. Not a pleasant feeling. Loch didn’t seem bothered, as humans usually weren’t. The crow shivered, fluffing up his feathers. If Loch was here, the crow decided he would be too as much as he hated to be.

Just as the last of the light was fading, Loch spotted the deer’s white antlers in the shadows. It was bedding down for the night in hollow of a large dead tree surrounded by dense shrub growth. If he could wait until morning and wake up before the deer, Loch figured he could end it swiftly in the hollow.

He pulled away from the deer’s resting place, careful not to make any noise. The hunter searched the area for a suitable place to make camp, finding it in an overhang of a great bolder flanked by two relatively smaller rocks. Protection from three sides and from above? It wasn’t likely he was going to find a better place before it was too dark to see.

The deer wouldn’t hear or smell him from here, so all that was left to worry about was the monsters. Loch unslung his pack and methodically began setting up a basic campsite. He went through the motions with well-practiced repetition. He had spent many nights deep in the woods after every type of game the forest had to offer and faced more than his share of monsters. For as dangerous as a bear or a pack of wolves could be, they were predictable.

Loch grabbed the bundle of firewood from his pack and lit a small fire, partially for the warmth, but mainly to deter monster attack. Then he scattered the opening of his small enclosure with brittle twigs. It wasn’t much; just a small offset of the risk.

Inky blackness flowed in from all sides, beaten back only by the light of the flames. In that darkness, the crow was quite hidden. Nigh-invisible, really, except for the firelight glinting off his eyes. He waited and watched his little human friend as he leaned against the stone behind him and drifted off to sleep.

Once the crow was certain Loch was asleep, he fell from his branch and spread his wings to silently glide past the twigs and the fire. The crow landed on the dirt and quickly spotted Loch’s quiver resting a short distance to his right. Just far enough for him to easily grab one if the need arose.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The crow hopped forward and grabbed the rim of the quiver with his beak. With a swift pull, the crow tipped the container over and spilled out the arrows. Loch’s eyes flew open and he instinctively reached for the quiver that wasn’t there.

“What the—”

Knowing the human’s wrath would be swift, the crow jumped onto one of the arrows and grabbed it with its foot. It let out a caw and took off in a flurry of wing beats.

“Damn bird!” Loch shouted, snatching one of the scatter arrows himself. In a split second it was notched, but Loch didn’t fire it immediately. A hulking shadow shifted in the darkness beyond the campfire.

The Crow lighted on the same bough as before with its new prize in it’s grasp. It had been unaware of the monstrosity lurking just beneath it. It wasn’t the crow’s intention to get Loch killed, far from it. Except now, the commotion in the cave had provoked some unnatural, twisted instinct for slaughter. The crow let out a frantic cry of alarm as panic welled inside it.

It soon found that to be a mistake. A terrible maw lunged up from the darkness like a horror from the depths of a black ocean, lashing out at the noise. The crow thanked the old makers for its wings as it narrowly avoided the same fate as the branch. The creature’s vice like teeth snapped the wood in a shower of splinters, sending it crashing down from a height of well over twelve feet.

Loch let loose his arrow only for it to harmlessly bounce of the creature’s thick hide. It was enough to get the beast’s attention, though. Loch quickly grabbed another arrow and prepared to fire again. His mind was racing, and his heart was pounding. Life and death were drawing close with only the choices of the next few moments deciding a victor.

Though this beast had the size of a bear, its limbs were longer, more canine. Its hair was jet black, which only lent more to Loch’s difficulty in seeing it in the dark. The shuck turned back to its original prey and charged without a moment’s hesitation. Thunderous steps shook the ground, dislodging dust and dirt from the top of the overhang. The shuck’s mouth was wide in a silent snarl of rage, promising a swift and eagerly administered butchering.

Loch had seen monsters such as this before. Great canine abominations that tore open ribcages to feast on the innards. Shucking humans as humans shucked corn. The bastards were tough: skin more armored than chain mail, limbs stronger than an ox, and teeth like dagger blades.

There was only one way Loch knew he could possibly kill it. He held his breath as it charged, closer. It bounded over the field of sticks with a single gallop. The next would carry him into Loch. The hunter held, waiting for the moment he was sure he would not miss.

The shuck leapt, and Loch let his arrow loose.

“You have to get ‘em when they charge.”

His father’s words echoed through Loch’s mind as the arrow found its mark. The human dove to the ground, narrowly avoiding the body of the monster as it crashed into the bolder. Loch scrambled in the dust and dirt, frantically grabbing another arrow.

With his weapon notched, Loch stood with bated breath, eyes fixed on the heap of muscle and malice. Tense seconds rolled by, but the shuck was still, a large pool of blood spreading under the hulking form. Loch let out the sigh of a man who just saw his life flash before his eyes. Still weary, Loch crept closer to the shuck, launching another arrow into its flank to elicit a response.

Still, nothing.

The shuck was dead. Loch hurried to grab as many arrows as he could before they were contaminated by the spreading blood. He had managed to put his arrow though the monster’s eye. Even a standing shot to their eyes wasn’t a reliable way to put them down. But if they were running…it was usually enough. Usually.

More and more blood poured from the socket. It was sickening to watch. It would be bled away by morning, nothing but a pile of fetid, rotting flesh. Its meat was inedible, and it’s hide, and claws would turn to blood like the rest of it.

Loch didn’t feel comfortable here any longer, for obvious reasons. The Crow was on edge too, worryingly staring into the darkness. Shucks didn’t hunt in packs, but that wasn’t an impossibility. The Crow hadn’t wanted to put Loch at risk, but the hunter had proved fierce despite the blunder. In fact, the crow realized if he hadn’t woken up Loch, the poor boy might have been killed in his sleep.

While the crow glowed with pride, Loch broke down his campsite and got ready to move. He had lost three…no, four arrows including the one the crow had stolen. Those would be a pain to replace, but that was just the situation. With everything packed up, Loch pulled one of the burning sticks from the campfire and used it to set the corpse of the shuck ablaze. Hopefully it would prevent it from corrupting any more poor creatures.

After snuffing out the campfire and making sure the flames from the monster wouldn’t spread, Loch walked until he found a suitable tree he could climb. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but he needed the sleep. So, with the crow watching over him, Loch drifted off.

The crow was the first of the two to wake in the minutes before sunrise. It shivered in the cool morning air, wishing it was with the rest of its murder. The crow made itself focus on its self-appointed task and glanced over at Loch. He was still sleeping, but the crow figured he would be up soon.

That left time for the bird to carry out its plan. As quietly as it could, the crow took to the sky, flying over to the hollow tree which had served as the deer’s home for the night. The arrow in its grip made landing awkward as it touched down at the base of the tree, but it managed to avoid crashing.

To its dismay, the deer was gone, already having started the day. The crow let out a caw of anger and took off again. It spiraled out from the center of its search, looking for any sign of Loch’s target. This was not part of its plan. The crow had been observing Loch for months, studying him, deciding if he was the right one.

Only recently had the crow elected to take a more direct assessment. Even when he had cost Loch the chance to bag the deer, Loch hadn’t killed him as many humans would. The man was kind, decent, committed to his life even though he was dissatisfied with his lot. And he was plain, unassuming in his ambitions. The crow felt he would handle power well.

A stroke of fate found the its way to the bird as it circled overhead. Through a random hole in the canopy, the crow spotted a flash of white antler and red pelt. A caw of triumph escaped the bird as it changed direction, lining up an attack.

Unaware of the plot unfolding above it, the deer was busy feasting on fallen fruit. Part of its mind was still worried about the man that had been following it, but for now it was content to eat. Once it was in position, the crow gripped the arrow tighter and dove down sharply. Loch’s battle with the creature had inspired it with an idea of how to get what it wanted; a chance to apologize for causing Loch to miss earlier.

The crow leveled out its flight once it built up speed. The deer was still unaware of the bird’s presence. The crow let out an alarming caw, which caused the deer’s head to shoot up just in time for the crow to burry the arrow deep in the mammal’s eye as Loch had done with the shuck.

A sharp scream of pain escaped the deer as death quickly consumed it. It managed to hobble a few steps before collapsing to the ground. The crow was quite pleased with itself. It skipped over, prodding the still warm corpse repeatedly with its beak, mimicking the behavior it saw from Loch.

Nothing happened, and the crow released a caw of victory. Its plan was almost complete. With pride fueling its eagerness, the crow took to the air again. It flew straight to the forked branch Loch was still sleeping on, and began cawing, loudly.

Loch’s face twisted with displeasure as he cracked open his eyes to find the source of the disturbance.

“You again?” Loch questioned, angered by the bird’s increasing antics. The human’s tone caught the bird a bit off guard. It shut its beak and got ready to fly incase Loch’s mood was worse than ideal.

Loch’s anger was quenched, replaced by apprehension. Daylight was already here, that meant the deer was probably gone. Ignoring the bird, who had resumed it’s cawing, Loch gathered his things and quickly climbed down the tree. He made a beeline for the hollow tree, slowing only once he feared the deer was likely to hear him.

His heart sunk when he spotted no sign of the deer inside. As he ruminated on his options, the crow lighted on the ground next to him, still cawing with urgency.

“What do you want?” Loch growled.

CAW.

The crow flew upwards, landing a few feet away in the direction of the deer, before hopping back and giving another caw; repeating the behavior.

Loch shook his head. The bird was crazy. As Loch turned to walk off, the crow decided to take more drastic action. It flew up, grabbing Loch’s ear with its beak, and giving it a slight tug. Loch swore, trying to swat the creature away. The crow was ready, though, pulling back just in time to avoid being struck.

With Loch’s attention returned, the crow let out another caw and hopped along the ground. It looked at the furious Loch, and then towards the deer, and back at Loch several times over.

“What is it, you insufferable pest?” Loch shouted. He’d never seen a crow act like this.

CAW.

Again, the crow started walking towards the deer. Stunned by the bird’s behavior, Loch followed, not being able to deny the crow wanted something from him any longer.

It was a good distance to the fallen creature, and the crow was getting tired, but if it was what he had to do in order to captivate Loch, so be it.

All the while, Loch was second guessing his sanity watching the bird walk like a child leading him along. What caused this unnatural behavior? Was it a monster like the shuck? That seemed unlikely. It had bitten his ear, but it hadn’t done that to inflict injury. So why was it leading him—

The crow suddenly beat its wings, as it jumped onto the body of the deer, looking back at the stunned Loch.

Caw.