10 Years, Forest. Pursuit.

It is getting darker. I have swung around in the treetops for what feels like three or four hours now, but the trail left by the owlbear still has no sign of ending. It has been a while since I ate the squirrel, but doing so reenergized me, and gave me enough power to push on despite my aching hands and body. The sun seems to go down in one or two hours, and I would prefer having caught up to the owlbear by then. I like to think that it stopped at daybreak, and did not continue at daytime. Right now, I think this is more likely, given it was not particularly quick on its way, and took its time to hunt while travelling.

It grew increasingly frosty over time. My self-heating is still doing a good job at offsetting it, but I had to increase output two times now for it to keep warming sufficiently. Luckily, the lightening needed for climbing in the trees is not nearly as much as for running extremely fast, and I can afford taking a bit of it away. It puts a bit more strain on my already tired arms, but especially during the chase yesterday, I had to learn to ignore this feeling. Also, since I have no immediate time pressure, I can afford making short breaks to catch breath.

I also got a hang on how to swing around in the trees more proficiently, and now I am faster than I was at the beginning. It started snowing, and the forest turned quite beautiful as a result, desolate and cold, but pure. The only thing disturbing that sight is the devastation at my feet, and the occasional bloodbath.

The line of destruction goes very straight, showing that the owlbear has a clear goal in mind. This reaffirmed my determination to catch up on it in time, since I can only imagine one goal this beast could be having at this moment, in this direction.

Apart from the occasional mutilated cadaver at my feet, swinging around is quite monotonous. I focus more on the treetops in front of me, and look down only occasionally. The line is extremely straight, so there is no real need for me to look where it is going all the time. At first, I looked down every swing, but over time, that became once every twenty seconds, once every minute, and finally I arrived at a point where I look down every five minutes, only to see the exact same path of destruction directly underneath me.

Except that right now, it is not there.

My heart picks up pace, and I stop swinging around, hanging to the next branch. Where did the trail go?

I look behind me. The sight is bad with all that snow, and I can not see the trail behind me. Did the owlbear suddenly change direction?

No, why would it. There is one more explanation for this. The trail is not here, because it ended since the last time I looked. Could this here be my destination? I carefully jump from treetop to treetop, this time in the opposite direction. For a painful minute, I spot nothing. Then, I arrive at a huge pile of snow, lying in the middle of a field of fiendish destruction. Footprints are all around it, half-covered by snow, but I easily identify them as the ones that I saw at the opposite side of the ravine, and all the way on this track. In a medium radius, every tree is uprooted in a way it acts as sort of a barrier, again solidifying the fact: The owlbear is here.

My heart beats fast in my chest, I need to calm down a bit to be able to think rationally. I sit down on a nearby branch, high up, a long distance from the ground.

There it is. No doubt about it. What else could cause this much destruction, what else could be in a pile of snow this big?

It should be sleeping now. Even then, it seems to radiate an aura of fear, even affecting me, as my body appears colder and heavier than before.

I need to engage this beast. The sun is still up and shining, although barely and at a very low angle. I need to get the advantage of surprise, if anything. But, where is the head in this pile of snow? Even more, the eyes? I have to just fire in blindly, I guess. It likely will not do any damage, but perhaps the stone will wake it up, confused as to where the shot came from?

Or, would it be better to just wait, to get a clean shot in the eye when the owlbear cleaned itself from the snow, but is not yet aware of me? But how long will it take for it to wake up?

I do not feel like waiting. My heart is racing, my muscles are full of tension, and my whole body is shivering from stress and anticipation. I loosen the string around my pouch, making it easy to grab a pebble out of it, and ready one of my remaining projectiles. I need power, so I lower the coefficient used on self-heating, but all while trying to distribute it in a way that my extremities are warmed better than my torso.

I also take a good chunk from my self-lightening, as much as I feel will still allow me to swing through the treetops with some effort. Now, I got about fifteen to twenty percent coefficient left to accelerate the pebbles. That should, in theory, be more than enough to lodge them into someone's eye.

I inhale deeply, and exhale very slowly in order to calm down a bit. It works kind of, so I repeat that for a few times, before going into throwing position. This one shot, it could determine the outcome of the approaching battle. Alright...

“This is the moment, your moment of revenge... but you will blunder it, wont you?”

I was ready to throw, I was so ready. The cold voice brought me out of concept, broke my concentration and sowed doubt in my mind.

“Do you really think it is that easy? You throw pebbles at a fortress, expecting its walls to crumble as a result?”

I wipe of the snow covering my eyelashes and the rest of my face with the left hand, while still having the right in throwing position. “Of course I know its not that easy... But I have to do something.” I whisper that as loud as I dare, careful not to wake up the sleeping beast in front of me.

“Even though you know its worthless, you still try? What happened to the rationally thinking Reiland? I am disappointed...”

“Shut the fuck up.” I have had it with this voice. If I want to advance, I need to go my way, no matter what it says. I hurl the pebble right into the snow pile, doing my best to accelerate it, concentrating as hard as I possibly can on this task in order to blur out everything else, every doubtful notion of thought.

“CRAck...!” A loud sounds echoes through the forest. The pebble went right into the snow pile, and in there, released this inorganic sound, of two rocks clashing together. A patch of snow falls off, revealing blank, cold and grey stone underneath.

What? Why is there a stone? Was that not...

In an instant, a loud, familiar rumbling starts roaring right behind me. In daze, I grab the tree I am sitting on as tight as I can, and immediately afterwards, a shock runs through the tree, which almost shakes me off, and a piercing scream almost shatters my eardrums.

My vision jumps to the base of the tree, and I see a shadowy, huge figure seemingly hug the trunk. The trunk itself starts to tilt, and fall over. I somehow manage to release my grip, and using the branch I am sitting on as a surface, I propel myself into the direction of the nearest tree.

I do not reach the lowest branch, but manage to cling onto the bark. I climb upwards as quickly as I can, in a similar fashion as I have seen squirrels do, and reach the branch that gives me better hold and stability. The tree I was on just now falls over completely, and under horrible cracking whirls up thick clouds of snow. The owlbear charges right at me, breaching through the falling snow and approaching ridiculously fast.

This time, I am more prepared, so I jump do the next tree right before the impact of the several-ton colossus. The tree base splinters in the crash, but I am already clinging to the next tree. The owlbear opens its beak for another piercing howl, and I can clearly see a crusted, yellow spot at its throat. The knife is no longer lodged in there, it probably fell out somewhere. I reach into my pouch, up so far this was a confirmation that my tactic is working, and so I pull out another pebble.

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The surprise attack by the owlbear threw me off a little, though. I could have sworn that boulder covered in snow was the owlbear, it had the exactly same proportions. Also, from where did the real one come? Did it hide nearby? Could it be that the pile of snow was nothing but a trap? Can this beast really think that far?

I hope that all this was a coincidence, and not a trap laid by the owlbear. If the latter was the case, I would have severely underestimated its intelligence so far. A raging brute is bad enough, but a raging brute that is also intelligent is truly terrifying. I do not like it, but I feel this was more than a pure coincident.

The owlbear charges at me again, and again, I switch trees in the last second. The beast is visibly raging, and all but overjoyed over my little evasion shenanigans. Again, it charges me, and again, I evade. Like this, I am able to avoid it very well, and since I am relatively safe, I also start loosing my fear. Now, I am just waiting for the perfect chance to strike, ideally right after it crashed into a tree, and is charging me, so it can not possibly evade – after all, I do not see this colossus stopping so fast once it started moving.

Now, now is the chance. The owlbear charges at me, and I switch to the nearest available tree. The next tree bursts, and the landscape looks like after a heavy storm, the kind that leaves no stone unturned and sends trees flying. Again, the piercing scream...

I go into throwing position, and wait for the owlbear to turn around. It rushes at me again, and I throw.

“swoshhh...”

The stone flies through the falling snow, and I try to adjust its trajectory as good as I can. With a bone-freezing sound, it embeds in the owlbear's left eye.

A howl erupts from the wounded beast, unlike anything I have ever heard before. It seems like all the screams before were just training practice for this one, primordial scream of pain, and hearing it induces me likewise with a feeling and dread and victory. The owlbear stumbles over its own feet, flips over, and continues its charge at the tree, half rolling, half sliding. It crashes into the tree trunk, but lost so much energy that the tree is not even in danger of falling.

In a sudden urge, I scream as well, as loud as I can to declare my triumph. “RAHHHHHHHH!!!”

It worked. In my mind, I forged a plan, followed it, and came to my goal. Incredible...

The owlbear is squirming down on the ground, and I jump over to the next tree, filled with new vigor. I reach into the pouch on my waist, and pull out stone after stone, and throw them after the owlbear, some hitting the back, some the limbs, some the head, every one of them surely strong enough to kill a man, and each answered with another painful cry. From the looks of it, they pierced its skin, and stuck in right under, with yellow, pus-like fluid dripping from the wounds.

I throw stone after stone, barely aiming anymore, in a certainty of victory, and as rapid as I can. My pouch ran empty before I could blink, and I hang with one arm on a branch, huffing and puffing. The owlbear is whimpering in pain, which fills me with triumph. It is not dead yet, but with this injuries, it perhaps is only a matter of time...

“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAACHHAHHCHH!” A dreadful scream hails from the cowered creature, and changes my mind. As soon as the barrage of pebbles stopped, something changed with the owlbear. This is not a scream of defeat or grief, but it sounds more like...

A scream of pure, primal rage.

The owlbear gets up in an instant, and rushes at me faster than I can react, my mind still numbed in victory. Its whole face and right side of the body, the side that received all the shots, is covered by yellow blood, and I think I can see bone shimmering through a wound at the skull. The right eye is completely destroyed, and gives an impression of decay and death in its mangled state. Time seems to slow down, but only giving me more time to squirm in the feeling of impending doom, not more time to properly react to what is coming.

As the owlbear crashes into the tree, faster and more impactful than seemingly ever before, a shock wave runs through my whole body, and clears me from this thought paralysis. The tree is sent flying for a few meters, and I try jumping off, but get entangled in the twigs, sending me rolling over the ground nauseatingly fast, where I finally come to an halt – abruptly, as I crash into a tree trunk of one of the still standing trees, feeling and hearing something in my chest crack.

A jolt of pain surges through my body, and the involuntary scream of agony makes it only worse.

Still, If I want to live, I have to soldier through, and I start climbing the tree I rolled against, looking over my shoulder to check on the owlbear.

I have only climbed up halfway to the next branch when I see it charging at me again, its screams full of hatred mixing with my whimpering in pain, that I can not stop no matter how hard I try. The edges of my vision start to darken, but I can not fail now, not if my life, and that anyone I care for, means anything to me.

I jump right before the owlbear crashes into the tree, and only barely sail over its head. I somehow manage to land on my feet, but the jump was not nearly enough to reach the nearest tree. Not only was it way too far, but my self-lightening is also not what it once was, my body feels cold and heavy in comparison to only three minutes ago, at the start of the fight.

I redistribute the coefficient I used for shooting stones both to heating and lightening in equal rates, but that only gives me slight betterment. I do all this while sprinting to the nearest tree, and when in reach, I jump onto it, climbing upwards immediately.

My feet and hands hurt like hell, but it is nothing in comparison to my chest. Breathing hurts more than ever before, making it hard to concentrate properly.

This time, I manage to reach the branches, but the owlbear is already charging again, so I have to jump to the nearest tree. I aimed for the lower branches, but actually fell a bit lower, still far enough to climb to the nearest branch without problems before having to switch trees. I regained the advantages ground of the treetops, but something feels off.

It is not only that I feel heavier and colder, I actually am. The reason why my magic is failing... am I loosing concentration? No, I could even be sleeping once I established a spell, that is not it. Then...

Magic exhaustion. This has to be the reason. I never experienced it, but this is the only explanation. There is not enough magic here, so my spells are loosing effectiveness.

The owlbear comes charging again, more furious than last time. Its rushes are growing increasingly fast, intense and frequent at an alarming rate, leaving me less and less time to think and react.

I barely manage to jump off before impact, and since I aimed for a way higher branch this time and the tree is not that far away, I reach it with only slight problems.

Magic exhaustion is a localised, so to circumvent it, I need to get away from here. A quick glance over the surroundings reveals that we barely moved from the boulder, and have been in a small territory the whole time. I look what tree in reach is the farthest from the boulder, and mark that as my next target. I jump off in time, and have already my next target in mind.

I watch the owlbear recover from the impact with the tree in an instant, shrugging it off like I would a fly on my skin. The tree, like the ones before, is absolutely destroyed. Only a few seconds after the last impact, the owlbear is charging again, stomping everything in its way aside, not even bothered by a small rock in front of it, which it simply kicks aside.

I jump again, and so, I manage to distance myself further and further from the artificial clearing. The owlbear shows no signs of changing its tactics. I wonder who of us is more pain, who is more injured. Except for the eye, every wound on the owlbear seems only superficial, while I am certain I have cracked at least two ribs. Breathing is agonizing, but I can hardly stop it, can I now. If I gave in to the pain, everything would have been in vain. The owlbear did not do so either, and instead of getting weaker like I do, it only seems to get stronger.

Maybe I underestimated the scale of this monster, not once, but twice and thrice. It could start breathing fire now, and I would hardly be surprised.

While most of the shock from the owlbear's sudden attacks wore off, the pain and injuries did not. If I want to make it out alive, I need to retreat to the ravine. It may be my only hope now, but that also means I need to avoid the owlbear for several hours now.

This prospect lets my sore arms scream in agony, but what choice do I have?

The further I led the owlbear from the forest clearing, the more my strength returned, and my body was lighter and warmer, thanks to the recurring effects of self-lightening and heating.

In between all the pain, a new feeling starts blossoming, very faint, but very welcome: Hope. If I survive this encounter, I avoided death not only once, but twice, and even permanently injured my enemy in the process. Who says it can not be done a third time?

Having lost every sense of intelligence I once thought the owlbear to have, it always tries the same thing, rushing at the tree I am on, destroying it, and then repeating the process to the next tree. Its endurance and stamina is unfathomable, a normal being should have long dropped dead. How is it that indefatigable?

For hours, all I sense is the jumping and crashing sounds, the screams of my pursuer, and my progressively worsening exhaustion and pain. Yet, the owlbear seems more and more desperate, which I think means that I am close to my goal.

Finally, I see the saving grace, the ravine, gaping in the distance. While the owlbear turns more and more furious, feelings of joy grow in me, almost, but only almost, overshadowing the fear of collapsing at any given moment. In an last ditch effort, I jump over the ravine, battered as I am, to leave behind an at least equally battered, but deadly and unyielding, raging and screaming pursuer.

I continue to jump through the treetops, unwilling to trust the ground any more, and finally fall asleep, securely lying in some conveniently convoluting branches.