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Red Mist
90. Marks

90. Marks

It was a blustery afternoon, and colder than Freya was ready to admit.

One of the side effects of having fur was that it kept you warm in the winter. One of the problems of not having fur was that one had to get used to feathers.

Feathers were fine if one was used to it, but the change was jarring.

The unfortunate side effect of the high winds meant that Freya and River were not needed to fly overhead.

“It would be nice, if say other aviary Soldiers were as helpful as you two,” Sergeant Yates said.

“That’s rather unfortunate. However we have a specific special task that we’re going to be attending to,” River said, obliquely.

Rather than fly, they’d chosen to walk alongside the caravan as it climbed up a slow hill. The two dozen mice and rabbits guarding and maintaining the caravan drove the roaches ever faster up a hill, and then down another all day.

“Understandable. When you show up with that amount of muscle, we tend to question it a bit. I’m not saying that I need to know what you’re doing, but as long as you’re not a burden, it should be fine.”

River nodded, placing a winged arm to pat her chicken.

Freya wondered if River had decided to bond the beast for the long term, like she’d done with her Rangers. She’d thought about doing so with Chicken Freya and then remembered how much it had taken River to bond three rangers. It must have been a difficult recovery if she still noted how hard it was.

“Ah we’re at the top again, time to mount up,” Sergeant Yates said.

Sergeant Yates returned to her cart as they reached a relatively flat area at the top of a hill. Ahead of them, the trees cleared out a bit. Farther out, smoke could be seen.

“It’s going to be a bit warmer by the fire at least," Freya said.

"Fire out in nature? We should fear that," River said.

"It must have been made by a creature. Otherwise we wouldn't be heading that way."

"Your logic is sound, and if this wasn't a planned caravan I would say let's avoid that place. But it looks like it is our destiny. Us and all this food and medical supplies."

River patted the cart next to her.

"Beatrice, wonder why the rest of the aviary always avoids missions like this?" Freya said, slipping into her character.

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They’d already decided that they would call each other by codenames while they were in a presumed disguise. Kayli for Freya and Beatrice for River.

"Well Kayli, in my experience, other birds always like to be in the action, in the thick of it. That's the reason they're constantly the royal family in charge, and part of the reason that their emissaries are so aggressive."

"Whereas the foxes and moles…"

"Whereas those two races tend to have a wait and see approach, particularly the moles. We birds also have slightly shorter lifespans, perhaps not us Bluejays, but if one is only living thirty five years, perhaps forty? Rather than fifty? One might change how one approaches problems."

Grandpaw sidled up next to the two of them.

"Imagine if one was to live to be a hundred or more! Time really would be different," he said.

River and Freya took this in.

"I know that the wind is high right now, but you need to check out our flanks, I suspect we're being tracked."

His words sent a chill through Freya's light bones. The two Bluejays stood up on their mounts before testing the wind.

"Which way?" Rivers' voice was ice.

The old mouse pointed behind him and a little off to one side.

"Watch our hens," Freya said.

The two hens fell in behind him and started moving in step with him as soon as the two birds were in the air.

The wind was high enough that Freya didn't need to flap excessively, but it was taking them in the wrong direction.

River already knew instinctively how to turn and use the most of the breeze. Freya watched first before attempting to bank to her left and catch more of an updraft.

The updraft came sooner than expected. River had found a thermal and was riding it up to dizzying heights. The thermal itself was vaguely visible with Freya's naked eyesight, but readily apparent as she approached it and then started to rise.

She stretched her wings outside, hovering and adjusting until she was just right.

The heat from the group pushed her up and away towards her mentor.

They were at the treetop level.

There were less trees around now, the land was becoming more and more open. Behind them a copse of trees looked like a likely target.

Freya watched as River switched from elevating higher and higher to hovering.

"Follow me," she said, moving towards the outside of the cylindrical thermal.

Thought became action and the two shortly were near the end of the long supply train.

Freya marveled at the ingenuity of the design. Long carts complete with rows of roaches, ran for blocks of space. The roaches took up much more room than the carts themselves, but they kept moving.

"Somewhere a roach trainer is counting money and weeping," Freya whispered to herself.

A small thermal near the end of the train popped both birds above the treeline again. River kept her height, continuing onwards to where only a single otter on a chicken brought up the rear.

Freya knew he saw them, but he studiously avoided looking up.

River found a suitably high branch on the first tree behind Stone and flitted over.

Freya was supremely grateful for the thermal's vertical boost as the cross breeze ceased. She ended up slowly down before catching onto the large branch and for the first time, not kissing her beak into the ground. Her face was firmly unplanted.

River walked up to her; slow in the approach. Freya immediately dropped into a low crouch. Using the branch she looked around for anything that could tell them they were being watched.

Freya nearly lost her grip when she looked at the trunk of the tree.

Small claw marks clearly indicated that something had climbed up to this and other nearby trees recently.