Guardian: Knife in a Badger Fight
My breath fogged in the morning chill, joining the heavy mist rising from the river. The falls glowed red and gold in the reflected dawning light. Stretching my cold-stiffened muscles, I replaced Sorcha's cloak around my shoulders and searched the bank.
"Nothing." I scrubbed at my scalp, grimacing at the near painful tug of too-dirty hair. 'Not that you expected anyone this morning.' Tyr had been clear — she wouldn't cry if I fell in the river and drowned.
My chest tightened at the unwanted reminder. Grig and Tyr were both too close to the boy who'd died, presumably drowned in the flooded river. Even if I didn't care for how they coped with their grief, I needed to respect it.
"Enough." I grabbed another hunk of dried meat from my pouch and headed downstream while masticating the stubborn meal. 'Maybe they'll share breakfast? Or their fire to roast something before we get started?' My stomach snarled its approval of this plan. Stuffing the last bite into my mouth, I shifted and beat at the morning mist with my gray-barred wings.
After climbing swiftly, I circled high above the river until I spotted a bit of rising smoke — dark against the pale mist — and traced it back to a hint of fire. My wings carried me toward the camp with little attention and I searched the brush for a tasty tidbit.
A flicker of movement drew my eyes; a bushy black tail flicked near the base of a solitary pin oak. The rest of the squirrel sat poised on its hind legs, nose twitching before it sprang forward to dart around the tree. Without a second thought, I dove, sinking my talons into the plump body. It shrieked, the sound piercing my ears, and I stabbed down with my beak, catching the tiny neck before the beast could twist around and bite me.
The blood tasted odd — the familiar copper-tang laced with something I couldn't name.
'Maybe that's what a wild squirrel tastes like?' The small feathers along my spine prickled, standing on end, and the sensation bathed my body until I was a fluffy poof.
The black fur beneath me shimmered, and the melanistic color leached out, leaving behind a nauseating mauve that had no place in nature.
'Bones and feathers.' My heart raced. 'It's an Infected, but how did it get here?' Heath's warnings rang through my mind, and I searched the riverbank. A shimmer like the one that had passed over the Infected laced the air. I launched myself into the air just ahead of the attack from my rear.
Climbing frantically, I watched the pitch-black badger shred the mauve squirrel. The crazed red eyes tracked my flight even as the claws were dyed red.
"Kack kack kack." My cry echoed through the eerie silence, and not a single songbird repeated the alarm. The skin around my talons and beak tingled and prickled, but I dismissed the sensation just as I dismissed the angry snarl of my stomach, cheated of a hot breakfast.
I split my attention, searching for other danger, either in the sky or on the ground, and tracking the badger. 'That shimmer — does it mean there's a swarm?'
The fog clung to the ground in patches, lingering as the brightening sun burnt it away. It did little to obscure the badger as it waddled with near-comical speed through the brush, but my mind conjured a horde of squirrels hidden and waiting to strike.
'But didn't Heath say to beware wide bands of rainbow? This isn't a wide swatch.' I focused on the faint iridescence. 'It's localized — just around the badger.'
Relief made my body light, and steady wingbeats kept me aloft, circling the deadly beast below. My heart calmed as nothing changed — the floodplain remained empty save for the Infected and the wind belonged to me. Then the bite of smoke reminded me that the riverbank and surrounding wilderness weren't empty.
'Grig! Tyr!' My wings faltered, and I fought to regain control with mad flaps. Once I wasn't in danger of plummeting from the air, my eyes sought the smoke trail, tracing it back to the deadfall my dinner companions had mentioned. It lay perhaps 15 wingspans ahead of the badger, who, driven by chance or intent, showed no indication of slowing or diverting.
Furious flapping drove me ahead and over the deadfall — a massive tree with widespread roots sticking into the air, kept from falling completely by its branches' position in the fork of an equally large tree that still stood strong. Nestled in the crook, Grig and Tyr had made camp with a piece of canvas strung taut and a tidy fire ring just outside. Relaxed, they sat with sturdy mugs in hand, and Tyr drained the last drops from their kettle.
I dove toward the duo at the campfire.
"Kack kack kack!" I swooped over their heads.
Grig smiled and wrapped his arm with cloth, holding it up as a perch, while Tyr, un-veiled and swearing, dove into their shelter.
I darted away, then back, trying to demonstrate the need to flee.
"Courtesy bids you announce your presence before invading our camp, Butterfly." Tyr's snarl disappeared beneath her veil as she emerged.
"Kack kack kack," I shrieked, every feather prickling with unease. 'How much longer before the Infected reaches us?'
"Tyr…" Grig frowned and turned to look toward where I'd flown from. "I don't think—"
'There's no time to think!' Diving low, I shifted in mid-air.
"Run! There's an — oof!" I hit the ground hard, forgetting to roll and driving the breath from my lungs. My wrist caught me before my face smashed into the ground, but an ominous snap and the white-hot flare of agony promised I'd chosen poorly. A breathless, silent scream ripped from my throat and I hunched over.
"Cairn!" Grig's hands on my shoulder felt like brands. He pulled me back, revealing the complete hash I'd made of everything.
I clenched my teeth, fighting to draw air into my body and to silence the screams.
'Have to tell them.' A tiny sliver of air crept into my lungs and I forced my mouth open to release it.
"Run."
Grig stiffened and stared past the deadfall. The roaring in my ears nearly drowned out the crackle of broken brush, but Grig didn't have that trouble. He yanked me to my feet and shoved me toward Tyr.
"Help him. Head for the river."
My knees refused to hold my weight, and I slumped, falling into Tyr. She jerked back, leaving me to fall to the ground with enough force to rattle my teeth. My muscles seized, keeping my wrist from further damage, and static fuzzed the edges of my vision.
"What's wrong?" Tyr bent to collect her pack and stow their kettle.
"Tyr! There's no time!"
Gritting my teeth, I lumbered back to my feet, wavering. Grig snatched up a long branch from the fire and placed himself in the badger's path.
"No!" Tyr pulled at his shoulder. "This isn't your fight."
'It's no one's fight, but it doesn't matter now.' Staggering forward, I grabbed Tyr's arm and shoved her at the lowest part of the deadfall.
"Get your hands off!"
"Climb." I panted through the pain and kept pushing. "Only chance."
"Yeah." Grig nodded and moved to cover more of the tree. "Move it!"
"You, too." Leaning against the decaying wood, I faced Grig.
Grig's eyes narrowed, and the crashing stopped. I couldn't see the Infected, but its presence was a weight on my chest.
"You first," Grig said, but his attention was on the too-still morning.
With a huff, I dragged myself onto the trunk, wrist cradled to my chest, and climbed. Tyr hadn't wasted any more time and was grabbing hold of the live tree high above before I was two wingspans off the ground. Dizzy, I froze when a snarl announced the badger's arrival.
Grig intercepted it with a sweep of his improvised torch. It fell back a step, then darted forward and sank its teeth into Grig's calf.
"Agh!" Grig slammed the weapon into the beast's side. The wood snapped with a crack, but the badger tumbled away.
"Grig!" Tyr leaned forward as if to jump from her perch.
"Stay there!" Grig spared her precisely one glance as blood streamed from his wound and smoke drifted from the badger's singed fur. Fumbling at his belt, he pulled out a short dagger.
'You can't kill it with that!' It was bigger than the penknife I'd used to gut the fish last night, but no match for even a non-Infected badger. I searched for any other option. The world twisted around me, and I clutched at the deadfall, slamming my wrist into it. Agony swallowed me.
A piercing shriek cut through the haze, and I dragged my eyes open, only then realizing they'd fallen shut.
Directly beneath me, the badger's snout streamed blood, and three slashes crisscrossed its left eye. But Grig was down on his back, the beast worrying at his cloth-wrapped forearm. I searched the campsite for the knife, levering my shaking body away from my death-grip on the trunk.
'There!' A glint next to the fire pit betrayed its location; too far for Grig to reach. Without a thought, I threw myself into a shift and launched off the deadfall. Delicate gray wings fluttered against the still air, and only the red-orange dots on their trailing edge made me stand out. Despite this, it hesitated, tracking me. Grig seized the opportunity, kicking it off and scrambling away.
His flight took him in the wrong direction — away from the potential safety of the deadfall and away from the knife. He stopped far too soon, pressing his forearm to his gut.
'No no no.' I fluttered my tiny wings, driving forward. Instinct screamed that something was horribly wrong, and the way my vision wavered in and out of focus emphasized the feeling. I shoved both — instinct and visual distractions — aside and, once clear of the badger, shifted again to land with another bone-jarring thud next to the fire. On my knees, I scrabbled blindly around until the knife's sharp blade bit into my fingers. The tightness in my chest eased when I grasped the hilt, and I spun back to the fight.
The badger, apparently done hesitating between its two victims, charged at me. Panic filled my chest — I had the knife, but I'd never killed anything more dangerous than a fish out of water.
'Thud.' A hard-flung rock ricocheted off the badger's ribs, and it squealed.
"Get out of here!" Grig threw another rock, and the Infected turned back to the active threat. Grig scooted backward, still on the ground, and launched another rock.