The gray kit didn’t know where it had gone wrong. It had made clear its discontent and desire to go live in the wild, so no one should have been surprised when it left. But they were. It had doused itself in used bathwater to mask its scent so that no one would notice that it had sneaked out. But they had. It had paid attention to the exact words the Guardians had used when talking about their confinement, and it wasn’t Someone Wrong like Mother or Maggie or Ink-Talon, so it should have been allowed to leave. But it wasn’t. And it had tried to argue its points with Scribe Swift-Paw and Ink-Talon well into the night, adamantly refusing to go back with the crow. But they still wouldn’t let it go. And then several angry-smelling people came up to the door and demanded to come into the Scribe’s new home to look for it.
“Gray. Climb onto my back and hold on to the satchel straps.” Ink-Talon waved a wing to silently communicate with it. “We need to go.”
“Why?” The kit tilted its head in confusion. “Why are they so angry?”
“If you were missing, that means your Mother searching for you probably drew attention to me being missing. So we need to leave. Now.”
“But-”
“Gray, if we are caught here, then neither of us will be allowed to leave ever again.”
The kit still didn’t understand what was going on, but that was more than enough to convince it that they needed to escape. It clambered onto the crow’s back without another word.
“...Yes, Guardian, they are both here. Ink-Talon recently arrived, thinking that I would shelter it.” Scribe Swift-Paw reached to unlatch its door, turning to nod a silent command to Ink-Talon as it did so. ”Go.”
“Hold on tight!” The crow croaked as he spread his wings and leapt for the nearby window. With a few flaps of his wings, the two were airborne and outside. And then the kit made the mistake of looking down.
It began to scream.
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Ink-Talon had a pretty good idea where it had all gone wrong. Gray sneaking out had scuffed the whole mission from the start. Swift-Paw playing at turning them in was a good call. It didn’t have nearly the convincing air that something he would say would have, but it didn’t *technically* lie, and Ink-Talon making a big show of fleeing into the night might just distract them enough not to be suspicious. But now he was in the air, at night, fleeing assuredly nocturnal Seekers, and trying to maneuver with a terrified, screaming squirrel kit latched onto his back.
What do I do here? I can’t just turn myself in, right? Coming this far just to give up that easily is absurdly suspicious. How can I handle this to keep the plan intact? To keep this from setting everyone back? Ink-Talon landed on an unlit rooftop and looked back towards Swift-Paw’s apartment, murmuring words of comfort to Gray to try and keep it calm. Two dark shapes briefly passed in front of a lamp on the building behind it as they rose into the air, very clearly heading straight for the crow before they disappeared into the darkness. They could see him in the dark, and he couldn’t see them.
“Go! Please go!” Gray pleaded in terrified squeaks. “I don’t want to be trapped forever…”
I could just… stop holding back and make a good show of it. The idea hit Ink-Talon like a bucket of cold water, bringing his situation into sharp focus. Physician Able-Heart said my Attunement is goal-oriented. This is an opportunity to put that to the test. What if I just stopped second-guessing myself and trusted my own desires?
The flutter of cloth on a nearby laundry line was the only warning he got to the incoming attack, and he threw himself forward just enough for a great horned owl’s talons to painfully graze his left shoulder rather than clamp down on his back like it had intended. Gray screamed again as the leap took them off the roof and towards the streets below, with Ink-Talon flaring his wings just enough to pull into the highest-speed swoop he could manage.
That could have killed me. Time seemed to slow as the crow reached an adrenaline-fueled conclusion. I felt it, when it brushed by me. It would have pierced and crushed me with its talons at that speed. It doesn’t care if we’re captured unharmed, just that we don’t escape. At that moment, everything became clear. The only way through this, the only way to keep himself and everyone he cared about safe, was to successfully escape. He had his goal, one tied to his deepest, most selfish desires. Now he just had to use it.
“Hold on, Gray!” Ink-Talon squawked as he angled himself upward and flapped, sacrificing some of his speed to gain altitude. Above the rooftops he was at a disadvantage. The lighting was too poor and an attack could come from any angle. But he needed to know where he was going. He needed to see the direction the closest edge of the city was in and then head there. He’d have to risk it.
Of course, they were anticipating it. Extremely rapid wingbeats caught Ink-Talon’s attention the moment he cleared the rooftops, and he banked hard to his left as a much smaller bird rocketed under his raised right wing like a feathered missile. While a bird of that size didn’t pose nearly the physical threat that the owl did, it had been going for his wings. Managing to hit one in flight at that speed could absolutely send him spiraling off-course or cause him to crash outright. He got a single good look at the bird as it seemed to halt its flight and hover before dropping back onto a darkened rooftop to vanish. It was a nightjar, and clearly far more maneuverable than he was.
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I got what I came for, the crow assured himself as he tucked his wings in a bit to swoop back below the rooftops, having spotted the edge of the city briefly and committed the direction to memory.
“Above!” Gray squealed out a warning, prompting Ink-Talon to flare his wings to break as the unmistakable shape of the owl silently rushed through the space where he would have been. Unable to maintain his flight at this speed and altitude, he touched down on the street, keeping his eyes locked on the owl, who had likewise needed to land on the street a short distance ahead after missing a second divebomb this close to the ground.
“Thank you,” the crow clicked his beak to Gray as he tried to catch his breath. No matter how exceptional his flying was, there was no circumventing the fact that he wasn’t used to anywhere near this level of exertion. Every muscle in his breast burned, and he knew he didn’t have it in him for a full-on sprint for the city limits, much less for the edge of the crater that Darksoil sat in. He needed to slow the pace down, but not so much that more Seekers and Guardians would be able to join in the chase.
The owl, on the other wing, had no such issues. If it was remotely tired after its two failed attempts to snatch him, it didn’t show it. In fact, it seemed perfectly content to just sit and watch, ready to take to the air again if he did, but in no rush to attack if Ink-Talon was just going to stand there and waste time before reinforcements arrived.
Could I fight it? Bird-to-bird? Injuring it or knocking it out would all but guarantee our escape. The nightjar doesn’t have the means to capture us on its own, and it would have to stop following us to report back to someone who could. He almost dismissed the idea immediately. After all, the owl looked to weigh three or four times as much as Ink-Talon did, and as a bird of prey its beak and talons made far better natural weapons than his own. If he factored in just how tired his wings were, there was no way he could clash with it in the air and even hope to win, Attunement or no. But what if I wasn’t in the air? What if I didn’t fight like a normal bird? I’m anything but normal.
“Gray, I need you to get off of my back and take cover under something. I have an idea.”
“But-”
“I’m not abandoning you, I promise.” The confidence in his expression seemed to convince the kit, which was good, because he honestly wasn’t feeling confident at all. But it was their best shot. Once Gray was on the ground, Ink-Talon tried to project that same confidence as he began to walk towards the owl. “You’re standing between us and our freedom. You’ve tried to kill me, to kill a member of my best friend’s family. Let us go, or I will make you regret it. This is your only warning.” The absolute certainty with which he made his threat seemed to catch the owl off-guard, but whatever reaction it initially had was quickly replaced by a glare with more than enough disdain for the Attuned crow to make out with just as much certainty.
“You are delusional. A danger to yourself and others.” The owl hooted and lowered its body, ready to spring into the air the moment Ink-Talon did. “As a Guardian, I am performing my duty. Submit, or disregard your own life. That is your only warning.”
Rather than answer, Ink-Talon lowered his head and turned his walk into an awkward sprint, closing the remaining distance between them as fast as his little body was capable of without flight. Completely baffled by the grounded approach, the Guardian hesitated for a critical moment before spreading its wings and launching itself forward with the intent of using its talons to intercept him. But that was when Ink-Talon jumped, a single wingbeat being all that was needed to clear the owl’s height. Rather than simply evade, he took advantage of the owl’s overcommitment and kicked both feet downward towards its head, putting the same force he used to take off for flight into an improvised strike.
The owl’s already wide eyes seemed to widen even more as it realized its mistake, and the dropkick landed with a hefty thud, driving both its head and the trajectory of its flight sharply downward. The owl skid to a stop as its body hit the ground mid-flap, while Ink-Talon used the owl’s head as a springboard to leap backwards and away from the reflexive snap it took at his feet with its beak. To the Guardian’s credit, it immediately pulled itself upright, spreading its wings in defiance and practically daring Ink-Talon to try that trick again.
The crow charged on foot once more, waiting until he was just outside the reach of the owl’s wings before attempting his next tactic. He focused on an intent, expressing with every moving part of his body the desire to jump up and grab the owl’s left wing with his talons. Making it clear that if the owl took to the air, he would take advantage of his faster takeoff speed to still hit his target. Reacting appropriately, the owl drew back its right wing and raised its left even higher, bracing itself to swat him out of the air when he tried.
Only he never did. He instead sprung to the owl’s right side, his expressive feint having prompted the guardian to both fold his right wing and lean slightly in that direction. Spreading his own wings, he hopped and grabbed its right leg in his talons before flapping as hard as he could to pull the leg out from under it. Already unbalanced by its attempt to block an attack from the opposite side, the owl toppled over with a startled hoot, pinning its right wing under its own body as Ink-Talon moved to end the fight.
This time, he actually went for the maneuver he’d pretended to go for previously, launching himself at the owl’s outstretched wing, latching on, and twisting it by continuing to fly. The combination of the force and awkward angle led to just a little resistance before he heard the joint pop out of its socket, followed by a horrific screech of pain from the owl as it was rendered unable to fly. The fight was over in less than half a minute.
“Silent-Wing!” a startled cry sounded from the rooftops as the smaller pursuer dove to its companion’s side. “Silent-Wing, are you okay? What did it do to you?”
“Gray! We’re going!” Ink-Talon called out for the kit, steadfastly ignoring his rapidly escalating horror and guilt over what he’d just done. The squirrel scampered out from under a nearby cart and wordlessly resumed its place as the crow’s passenger. If the child had any opinions on what had just happened, it didn’t express them.
He took one final look at the two birds behind him, the owl trembling on the ground in pain while the nightjar’s eyes bored into his own with what could only be pure hatred. “I’m sorry,” the crow managed to croak out before taking flight once more, zig-zagging through the streets and alleyways as he made for the edge of the city. The nightjar did not follow, choosing instead to stay and help its injured friend.
He’d actually done it. He’d actually evaded pursuit. Defended himself and Gray from someone who threatened their lives. As long as he didn’t make himself easy to track, they were free. He might even be able to go get help for everyone in person, rather than relying on messengers to do the work. Somehow, things had gone even better than he ever could have hoped.
And he felt like a monster for having accomplished it.