ROOOOOOAAAAAAR!!!!!!!!

There are heavy notes of pungent carrion on the beasts breath, along with a barrage of spittle from its dominating bellow. Each of it's canid teeth on full display, promising the demise of any foolish enough to get within their reach. This is a creature that knows damn well that it stands at the pinnacle.

I'm not about to stick around and find out. Spinning 180° on my toes, I flee back towards the passageway I came. My talons clacking loudly against the solid stone floor, barely audible over the continued shouts and roars of that enraged demon. With each outcry it makes, the caverns BOOM and rumble, threatening to collapse on my fragile frame. Constantly I am pelted with pebbles that are dislodged from high above as I dash through the echoing tunnels.

Craaa-ack!

Nearby one of the stalactites gives in to the brutal reverberations of the creature's roar. Gravity takes hold and drives it violently into the floor inches away from me. The force of the fall shatters the once hanging stone, releasing an explosion of rocky fragments. Some of the shrapnel collides harshly on my left side, almost making me lose balance. Despite rapidly building up injuries one after the other, I pour all my energy into my legs to carry me to safety.

The provocations from the great chamber behind me come to a stop. Part of me believes that it now has a smug expression, its job done strikingly well. No way is that dirty feathered peasant is going to desecrate its personal palace with its filthy presence ever again.

With the immediate danger over with, I sit down and let my head fall against the uncomfortable wall.

Ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump!

My heartbeat races uncontrollably from my escape, my lungs struggling to catch up with the harsh demands I placed upon them. The rest of this body of mine remains on high alert, as seen by my feathers that stand tall and straight. Various spots wordlessly cry out for my attention, victims of the harsh shrapnel that has certainly left me feeling rather tender. To think that just looking upon the visage of that creature has left me in such a sorry state.

Deeper down the passageway, I feel slight reverberations and then a final thud.

Yeah, why don't you go back to lying down, being such a massive muscle monster must make life so difficult.

Speaking of, figuring out what I'm going to do now has escalated dramatically in difficulty. As far as I know, there's only two ways out. That hole in the ceiling back at the lake, and getting past Big Jonas, the Earthen Tyrant, of whom I have decided to name. There's only a finite amount of resources in that lake, and fungal creepers too for that matter. I don't have all the time in the world to hole up in this cave and wait for my wing to heal. So that leaves me with one equally unrealistic choice. ****.

Reflecting on my situation has given my body enough time to recuperate, and I make the rest of my journey back to the underground lake. Within that span I toss out a couple ideas, such as trying to distract him with food or trying to coat myself in mud and creep around him while he sleeps. Sure they are decent ideas, but the risk factor is too high, call me greedy but I want to at least achieve some level of safety in whatever plan I choose. Last time I failed to come up with a more concrete strategy, and it left me crippled. If that happens again, its my life on the line. I need to have better foresight.

Fishing has thus far helped me clear my head of unnecessary thoughts, so as I go about catching my lunch, I continue formulating. Before I start though, I let my talons soak in the cool waters. The refreshing sensation is instantaneous, almost therapeutic. I've been rather hard on them, the tips have become noticeably dulled, and tiny fissures are starting to snake their way across the surface. While I might not be an expert on bird health, it's clear that we aren't meant to walk on such rough and solid surfaces for too long. I'm a bird after all, ya know, known for flying? I should be thankful though that this form supports walking to such a degree. I can only imagine what it would be like if I was some sort of parrot, hopping around or hobbling along awkwardly on their stubby feet. Superior bird here folks! Though that does make me wonder if I can mimic words like those clever little things? Lets try something simple, like 'hello'.

"Caaawwoolll!"

"Caa-aa-oo-wl?"

"Cwwaa?"

"Cch-aw?"

"Wwa-oo?"

Ah forget it. Talking is for those peanut shaped bastards, not for powerful and mighty birds like me. I lift one of my long legs out of the water to check the status of my weaponized feet. I clench, then uncurl my three forward facing digits and single rear facing toe, each of them tipped with slightly curled charcoal talons. Soaking them in the water has helped the slight cracking that has begun to develop, perhaps I should try sharpening them on some coarse stones too?. Thinking back on that eel, I only managed to narrowly escape with my life because I was able to get a lucky puncture with one of my desperate kicks. If my weapons weren't cut out for the job?

Okay, yeah, I definitely need to give them more attention starting now, especially if my stay in this cave is going to be as prolonged as it is already.

Eventually I get to fishing, letting my thoughts wander and drift as I wait for the lurking shadows to take a swipe at my bait. First I think of what the outside world will be like. Sure I have knowledge of the basics, such as forest, mountains, taigas, deserts, and so forth, but what use is knowing these things without ever experiencing them? When I get out, I want to fly over the canopies and behold a landscape fitting for an unknown world! Also taking into consideration the state of that room far down the other passage, something tells me everything is going to be very different.

What of civilization? Are they going to be advanced beyond anything I would ever hope to recognize? I'm not really sure how I would react upon seeing giant mechanical golems and space crafts that would rival the size of mountains. Sure would be a sight to see. I hope there are still people around, not being able to talk with anyone sounds like a lonely existence. Not that I can talk anyways… Maybe I should carve two eyes and a smile onto the slate colored scale hanging around my neck. While ridiculous, the imagined scenario puts a child-like smile on my face.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Meanwhile, the bait I dangle has failed remarkably to attract any fish. I sincerely hope that these guys aren't catching on to my tricks, my list of current issues is already at max capacity. Thank you very much.

Lets pivot back to Big Jonas. Muscles, check. Impenetrable, check. Lethal claws, check. Acute senses, check. Weaknesses, nope. While I would really love to try and scout out when he leaves the cave, I don't want to press my luck. I managed to get away the first time, and I'm not keen on returning for scrapes of intel. For crying out loud, he realized I was there when he was resting. It only took him a few seconds to pinpoint where I was hidden, and that scares me.

Just then, one of the shadows I have been lazily keeping an eye on has finally made a move and lunges for my bait. With steadily performed practice, I drop the bait and meet the fish head-first with outreached talons. Unable to react in time to the new danger, it is as good as caught. Pulling it topside, it is dispatched within seconds with a sharp bite behind the head. As soon as it thought it was going to get a free meal, it now lies motionless forever more. Suddenly, I find myself relating to my freshly caught prey. If I'm not careful, I will end up being just like this fish. Dead in mere moments. Quite sobering honestly.

Without the need to overindulge, I take my catch and return to my work area near the shoreline. With no time like the present, I begin preparing the fish with the usual work. However this time, when I pull out the internals to use later as bait, I find myself staring at one organ in particular that I once discounted for scraps. The tube-like pale sac that helps these creatures rise and descend in their aquatic world. The swim bladder. I can't help but think that, while a bit disgusting, it could serve as a bag of sorts. I flick it a couple of times with the back of my claw to see if it would tear, but much to my piqued interest, it held up remarkably.

Hmm.

While I think of what to do with this new discovery, I set it aside and finish the last bits of prep. With my work complete, I waste no time eating my lunch. Admittedly, I thought about adding some of the fungal creepers to my meal, but I want to test something. Maybe it's my imagination, but perhaps they had an effect on me without it being obvious at first. My theory is that they possibly messed with my emotions or my psyche. That 'presence' I felt, maybe it was all in my head and it was a bad reaction.

Anyways, even if I am wrong, they would make a good backup food source. There's a small chance that their numbers could bounce back despite my recent efforts to cull them in the name of diversified dining. Better to bet on those odds than to collect on all of them now, especially if I have to wait for my wing to heal.

Though I do admit, I wouldn't mind finding more of this kind of fish. I find myself licking the outside of my beak wishing for more. The thickheaded yellow fish wasn't all that exciting in terms of its exterior, but the flavor? Hints of natural citrus and zest paired with rich tender meat made this the most delicious meal I have had by far.

Feeling a renewed rush of inspiration from my meal, I get to working on the several projects I have planned for the rest of the day. The construction of a new tide pool to secure more octocrabs. Turning some of the sinew that I harvested from the lemonhead (My new favorite fish) into cord. Similarly, fashioning some hooks out of some of the ribs I collected. Run a test with the local fungal creepers and my mystery opal. Then see if I can get any use out of that bladder from earlier. And last but not least, I have a few exercises in mind if that bladder ends up being usable. Busy, busy, busy.

Let's knock out the easy stuff first. As for the my trap for the octocrab, all I have to do is find a solid patch of shoreline that dips a bit and surround it with rocks. Couple of minutes later the rocks are in position and I can leave the scraps in it for bait. Easy and done.

For the next item on my list, I take off my very luminous necklace. Currently I have the sneaking suspicion that the local fungi will work their way over here and smother my precious gemstone with their gross spindly roots. So this time I have a plan. With my beak, I pluck a loose feather that is hanging loosely from where the eel tried to ravage me and set it softly atop the necklace. Now all that is left to do is pin it in place with a small rock and it's ready to go! I'm curious to see what those wandering little freaks will do. I'll give this a couple hours and check back on it later before it gets too dark.

Now for the fun jobs…

Sigh.

I decide to take the bones and sinew I collected earlier closer to the shoreline. One, because the quiet sound of lapping waves will be relaxing, but also because it's too dark up the slope. Setting aside the sinew for now as it still needs time to cure, I begin working on the ribs. First I clip most of the length to get them into a more workable shape. Then I begin crafting it into a hook-like shape by carving it with my talons or grinding it against a slab of nearby sandstone. The tricky part is that for what I have in mind, it needs to be load-bearing. Problem is, my 'hook' doesn't have a lot of bend, so I need to carve a notch with my talons to keep the load secure. This in turn creates a very vulnerable breaking point. It takes a several failed tries to even get a prototype, the first few attempts ending in bitter failure. My stockpile was dwindling, and my fears were that the bones were too fragile for the job. After a few hours of work however, my efforts produce a single hook that is able to hold out on its own. A small success for now, the proof of concept is far more important than the number of hooks I was able to make. At least that's what I tell myself to hide my disappointment from all the broken pieces scattered throughout my work area.

Before I start my next chore, I indulge myself with a well-earned stretch. Sitting down in one spot for the last few hours isn't exactly the picturesque model of comfort, and that hardly goes without mentioning the rough cave flooring. Amid my stretches, I realize how quickly the night was creeping up on me. Already the end of another day? Taking a look around, it's clear how much progress was made, and I can't help but feel a tinge of pride. Well, before it gets too dark I should see how my theory played out

One short trip to the other side of the lake, and to no surprise, I find my necklace surrounded by a ring of fungal creepers. Come to think of it, these things have an aversion to light. So I find it strange that they willingly make the trip from the dark recesses of the cavern they call home to seek out this, quite frankly, ridiculous light source. While its glow has receded slightly, it still shone as bright as any lantern. Yet here they are.

On further investigation, I pick up my necklace by the cord and find that it is only mildly covered in roots. Matter of fact, it seems they formed a similar woven barrier compared to when I woke up today, but much smaller in size and not nearly as dense. However they still pulsated every once in a while with that strange azure life-force, just like everything else involved with my opal. Speaking of, it appears that the majority of the spread roots envelop the feather I left behind. Strangely enough, the thin roots connected to the white plume appeared as if they are withering. Further down the parent root, healthier, newer roots have expanded to the gemstone instead.

I kind of figured something like this would happen. From my little experiment, it just about confirms that I radiate some sort of invisible energy which collects into the stone like a battery. As for the feather, it seems that the energy lingers for some time, but doesn't compare to the passive radiation that I give off. What I wouldn't give to figure out what was really going on, such as why every living thing in here seems desperate to get a piece of me. Maybe this is how Big Jonas was able to detect me so quickly. Ugh, this experiment just creates more questions.

Before the accumulating torpor claims me, I want to at least get the cord made. Now that I have a solid method to work with, I think it can be knocked out before long. So I get to work, breaking apart the now dried sinew to reveal the plethora of bundled fibers. Then it's just a matter of weaving them with the help of some weights. It isn't difficult to get into a rhythm, but monotony of it…

About half way through the process, I feel my eyes begin to yield to the lull of repetition. Maybe I'll just lay down for… a… few…

zzz-