He eventually found the [Druid] again–following the river–he was far in the distance.

To even get on his track he’d been forced to curry favour and ask for directions. It was humiliating, but he was an owl in a rush.

Although now that he had caught up enough to confirm… Strangely enough the [Druid] seemed to already be heading in the right direction to deal with the threat he had spotted.

Algernon looked around and seriously doubted any of the other denizens had warned him, everyone was far too calm for them to to be in the know about the debasement of their borders; the descending darkness.

He kept flying and catching up, but even after half an hour his target was still distant. He was keeping a pace like a creature on fire, and Algernon had barely recovered from yesterday.

That’s when he saw something else even further up ahead; it was a prince of the forest.

Right by the river he could see a large glade and a flock of sika led by a clearly Spirit blessed prince, with the greatest crown he had ever seen.

The glade was close to being surrounded by chuffing and barking black beasts with teeth like sharks, but so far their protector was moving like thunder, seemingly everywhere at once and holding the baying pack back from engulfing his flock.

The mighty beast fought with its head bowed further than seemed natural, spearing the overly muscled flesh-hounds with a lunge, only to then eject them by the use of its neck–like it was a spring.

There was clearly blood magic or something of the sort involved, because despite the intricate horns they got speared on–when the prince willed it–the hounds took launched through the air, the blood on the horns slickened beyond anything mere physics could have achieved.

But it was only one stag, and a few doe and younglings trying and failing to fight bravely.

Algernon could see that it would not be enough, the prince stood to lose a large portion of his flock if things continued.

That was when Harold arrived like a storm.

What Algernon saw was a man going down almost to all fours and throwing himself in a penetrating move through the neck of the first barghatz he could reach. The brutal beasts nearby reacted instantly, throwing themselves over the new combatant.

In the distance all the owl could see was a ball of fangs and black fur tearing back and forth–he was getting torn to shreds–if the chaotic movements of the pack were anything to go by.

As he got closer it turned out Algernon was mistaken. Damn this bright light, give me dusk!

The [Druid] was moving like crazy, leaping and sprinting on backs and pushing off trees. Striking only when he had height enough that the leaping, slavering beasts fell just short and thus provided an opening in their wanton aggression.

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Even landing afterward he did not seem to take more than superficial fleshwounds, despite their headhunting they failed to reach; his suit seemed to release small puffs of spores every time it was jostled, and all the closest barghatz were badly affected, missing their bites or even attacking mates in their confusion–who panicked in turn, and reacted badly enough that Harold got away.

The [Druid] suddenly unleashed an inhuman roar, that even Algernon felt empowering his wings, and then the man started fighting even harder, while all the nearby denizens of the forest all fought with renewed alacrity as well.

He was not doing nearly as much damage as the prince, but he was causing one hell of a distraction. Unfortunately it could not last. A particularly large specimen snapped out of the spore-induced hallucination at the wrong moment and bit down on Harold’s leg, slowing him enough for others to grab hold with their deadly teeth.

Algernon had not just been watching however, as he finally arrived on the scene he unleashed the gathered wind-energies that he had been building behind him: it blew the pile wide open, and the [Druid] desperately took the opening to leap for a branch to pull himself up.

The first barghatz was still stubbornly clutched on however, and refused to let go even as he started hauling.

The rest of the pack was recovering from the sudden tromb that the owl had bombarded them with and leapt to its aid, but that was when Harold’s army of warrior wasps finally caught up.

Despite the winter Harold had been keeping very busy.

The orchard had enough expiring apples to feed thousands of the critters, even if he had to dig to gather them from their homes. And this time the damned enemy did not have an exoskeleton.

The sheer weight of the buzzing wave forced the hefty barghatz off their master–leaving a lot of the painful teeth behind–penetrating its eyes and brain within seconds of lift-off.

The rest of the nearby pack fared no better, the insects did not stop to feed but moved only to kill and then to save the threatened sikas.

The stag was still killing as well, seemingly tireless, and with failing so completely on both fronts even crazed beasts like these knew enough by then to decide on living.

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Roldy was lying on a broad branch, completely drained from the run and subsequent fight to the death. His wounds were still healing.

Algernon landed as well, no less tired, despite making his move and then dodging off to safety. He was a lot closer to Harold than before, and there was a grudging respect in his eyes.

The creature closed its eyes and somehow sent him a name, mentally. Algernon, Algernon the owl.

"Algernon? How the hell do you have a name like that?"

The damn thing rolled its eyes.

Harold did not know it yet, but his hidden objective had just been achieved.