293 CHPT 293: Life Rises from the Shadows of Death....

He spent the remainder of the clean-up either speaking to Arne or working to force away the bloody memories assigned to each Monster corpse he'd slain over the previous night.

Despite his efforts, it didn't really work. He could remember everything, all it took was a touch. A brush of his finger against the corpse of a stuck Goblin. And boom, a hazy memory of himself ripping out a Goblins throat only for Frosty to rip off it's arm before the creature was stuck to a tree by Gil's flaming javelins. So violent, so wild.

All in all, he was more than delighted when he returned to the field after burning another corpse of Satyr, animal and Goblin to find that there was only one thing left.

He hurriedly approached the object in the shadows scarcely covering the field.

Despite lying lifelessly at the end of the field, under the shadow of the canopy, he could make out the Satyr easily. It's cause of death could've been a number of reasons. It's stomach was a tattered mess of red flesh, brown fur and little insects. It's face was shattered as if blasted into a swollen bleeding mess by a hammer. He knew if he touched it, he'd immediately remember sending his fist twisting into the Goat-Monster's once long maw.

Even in death, he could've sworn he could still hear it being twisted, crunched and consumed. As if the sounds of the previous night were put on replay for him. Just in case he missed his own horrific work.

He shook off the thought and and lifted the corpse, veins bulging in his arms and shoulders in response to the endless repetitions of the same action being done over the span of over an hour.

The sounds of it's body being crunched and consumed climbed, sounding so eerily real within his mind.

He ignored it and began marching towards the roaring flames of the wooden statue that now reeked of long burnt wood and flesh. He wondered if Rollan's so called "Queen of the Flames and Healing" would bless his mind as she raged warmly in front of Rollan's home.

"If only I was religious in that way..." He thought before tensing his legs in preparation to heave the creature into the crackling flames.

FWOO!

plop!

FWSHHHH!!!

The flames crackled and spit out a fiery elemental thanks as they crunched away at the corpse. A corpse he no longer focused on.

Instead, his eyes searched the field floor for whatever fell out as he threw it. His insides clenched as he prepared to find another set of shredded kidneys...or a heart. Even now, he could smell the blood from the countless other times he had to do the same.

It didn't take more than a few seconds to find whatever fell. Shadows didn't hide anything from the eyes of a Lupine.

And in the only shadow near the flaming statue sat a clump of entrails, guts and blood.

He reached down, mentally preparing his hands to sink into the warm wet slosh and heave it back into the flames. Instead, it moved away from him.

"AH! What the fuck?" He said, a hint of disgust lining his voice. Something that faded quickly in response to the mess of insides and blood making a sound.

A sort of avian gurgling croak.

"[That isn't at all ideal...stomp it.]" Arne announced, offering what he thought was ideal guidance.

Claude thought otherwise as the mess of insides shifted and he was able to make out something clear in the clutter of red violence.

Darkness.

Even in the shadows, he could see. Darker than black or simply untainted shadow.

Only a bit larger than a marble, shining with pure blackness ringed by a deep liquid onyx that faintly glowed purple beneath. The eye was visible...but not on its own accord. Instead it felt like it was stealing the light from beyond the shadows.

If the sight didn't shiver him back into consciousness, he wouldn't have noticed it was an eye so quickly.

The eye peaked out from beyond the clump of innards and filth, looking around chaotically before settling on him.

"There's something in there...." He said in a hushed tone.

As if following his realization, the clump moved as a sharp black object emerged, splitting to move and slurp down the innards that covered it with the assistance of a long inky black tongue.

"A beak..."

"[So. It was a bird burrowed inside the Satyr amidst the shadows. Hm.]"

"Only one way to find out." Claude replied before squatting down to reach for the mess covered animal.

KRAWK!!

Another gurgling croak, this one more extreme and territorial. Claude tried again only to get the same result, now with Frosty and Gil at his back like two interested younger siblings.

He sat watching the creature eat for another few seconds. Ravenous and rushed, almost like its survival depended on it. He nodded in understanding before looking around for a fresher bit of giblets.

It didn't take long to find some.

From the Satyr he'd previously fed the flaming statue, pieces of it's flesh had fallen into the once lightly snowed grass. Beside him, a strip of flesh shined red and wavily like a piece of bacon....if bacon often came with a side of oily black bugs.

"Perfect." He whispered before picking up the strip and returning to the creature knee deep in survival mode.

"Hey...here.." He said quietly while inching closer to the creature.

KRAWK!!

The same result. The thing hopped away, tripping and landing awkwardly inside the mess before righting itself.

For some reason, he could tell it was injured-- whatever it was. It's movements were off balance, labored, as if it were carrying something on one side. Body Language Understanding finally working in his favor.

In response to the realization and the fact that all his attempts to free the creature had failed, a warm tide of anger washed over his already heated body.

"Hey, Beak-face! Look at me." He snapped, the language of Tamer and animal filling the empty undercurrent in his voice.

The fleeting creature stopped and aimed it's light consuming eye at him, focusing on him instead of his movements for the first time.

"I think this would taste better to you than cold guts...." He said firmly, waving the bug infested flesh strip in front of him.

In response, the creature covered in Satyr guts began unevenly hopping towards him hesitantly. Frosty and Gil sat as still as statues, but their noses moved wildly, working to take in the scent and recognize whatever was beneath.

In a matter of seconds, it was right in front of him, beak slicing through the guts and intestines to sniff and reach for the meat. Now in the sunlight, he could see the intense detail of the beak. It was smooth and sharp as a freshly made dagger. At the base, he could make out four sharp grooves-- two beneath where he assumed the eyes were and then two more at the bottom. The sight reminded him of a sort of spear, meant to stab on the way in and rip apart even more gruesomely on the way out.

"What are you?" He asked while ripping apart pieces to feed the creature.

After a while he began sliding off the mess that covered it. Delicately as possible since he was sure a glaring injury occupied the being beneath. It only took a few seconds for him to make out the darkest feathers he'd ever seen. Thick and shining like metallic black blades.

When the last remnants of it all came off, the two stared at each-other for a long stretch of seconds.

"[It's a Raven...]"

"Sort of....." Claude corrected while the two eyed each-other.

In theory Arne was correct. It had a similar build, the matching dark feathers and stick legs with shining talons. But many other things differed.

For one. It was a bit larger than a Raven at over almost three feet. A fact that shocked him when he removed he bulk of entrails only for the bird to weakly stand up straight and showcase its full height and robust powerful chest. The largeness wasn't the entire problem, it was the fact that it's beak sat on it's face almost comically large. From his constant readings with his father, he knew that meant the bird hadn't yet grown into it's naturally gifted weapon. It was young.

The bird shook, casting off droplets of blood and freeing its slicked feathers, showing the beginnings of feathered horns on it's oddly shaped head that resembled something closer to a Woodpecker than a Raven.

"Optimal for pecking hard objects without injury due to the longer brain shape..probably less space to avoid concussion as well..." He whispered.

"[What??]"

"...Combined with the drilling spear-like beak, it looks like its meant to peck and tear...." He mumbled some more.

"[Claude? Care to fill me in? Your spitballing animal facts...]"

Claude turned his head, side eyeing the creature as his brain worked away at its peculiar body. He felt like he was studying images with his father in the cabin again. A boy again. Not a Lupine who just murdered endlessly for a full night.

"Even the wings are different. Wider than usual when compared to the length....ideal for quick take off and even quicker movements. But...they're still kind of long...like a healthy medium...for distance and directional control...."

"[Hey, you twat! I understand I don't fucking physically exist, could you not make me feel like I don't even mentally exist??!!!]"

Claude was taken out of his mind, "Sorry. It has a broken wing..."

"[That's what you were mumbling about?]"

Claude shook his head, causing his wild mane of long hair to dance in and out of the shadows between him and the bird, "No. I was just noticing how different it looks compared to most Ravens. Maybe a cousin species.....I can't really tell, its too young."

"[Well. What are you going to do?]"

Claude stayed silent for a moment, watching the bird mindlessly eat away at the innards in a fight to survive the hard life it knew was coming now that it couldn't fly. He could see the intelligence-- the panic in it's deep black and shimmering purple eyes.

In an instant he felt himself become attached to the bird. Not because of any prospect of power-- to which it'd shown none of...but instead, a different reason that was selfish in it's own way.

Amidst all the death done under the full moon. He was able to save one, at the cost of four. And now, in front of Rollan's home and the statue of some godess of healing, he could do it again. He'd been given another chance. A life he could save from the field littered with death. A means of satiating his mind doing what he thought Heroes were supposed to do.

"I need to wrap it's wing.." He said, not directly replying to Arne as he handed more food to the bird while lifting it up and carefully forcing the broken wing in it's natural relaxed position.

He sat with it in his arms on one knee for a moment, careful not to burst into a flurry of comfortable movements that might shock the bird or pain its arm.

When he slowly turned he found Frosty and Gil watching with innocent curiosity.

"Don't get too close...I'm not sure what is is." Claude told the approaching PitWolf as if he would.

Frosty ignored Claude's words and pushed his nose toward the bird-- hackles raised uneasily, sniffing madly as he pressed onward.

KRAWCK!

Shtck!

"AARP!" He yelped, leaping backward in response to being pecked in the forehead, not enough to do any real damage but enough to aggravate.

Gil stepped between them, letting off reptilian growls and feline hisses while green tufts of flame swirled within his jaws.

Claude felt the urge to smile as Frosty shook his fur and began pacing with Gil, both of them anticlimactically mumbling and growl in an all too human manner.

"Can't say I didn't warn you, bonehead." He said before standing and heading to his next destination.

On his way toward Rollan, he could've sworn he felt the heat of the burning statues gaze on his back..

***

When he finally approached Rollan, telling him that the field was clean-- relatively, and he was in need of something used for wrapping, the man didn't hesitate. He didn't even ask why, but he spoke as if he already knew.

Rollan was weird like that.

When he finished wrapping the young bird while it stood on his leg-- content with eating bug infested flesh, Rollan emerged with a simple message.

"Monsieur. I think it's time you come see her, no? It's quite incredible..."

Claude was ready to question the man until he realized there was only one "her" among them. Ursula. It seems the entire reason he'd made him wait was because something happened. Something that spooked a man who hid three weapons of village destroying proportions within his home.

His anxiety rose.

"Yea, I'm coming."