Chapter 12: The Oxhawk

Miro’s sleep was deep but not restful. One dream kept creeping up on him throughout the night. He was standing alone, amidst planes that were nothing but fire and ash, but he felt no heat. Instead, he was cold to the bone and when he raised his hands to look at the them, they were pale icy blue. He would stare at them in awe and horror, the orange tongues of flame lapping at his legs until his fingers would shatter and the dream would excrete him back into darkness before starting anew.

He awoke to their fire having been reduced to nothing but a few smoldering embers, the sky beginning to lighten with dawn and a massive bird creature stalking the outskirts of their camp as Peteri stood motionless with his hand reaching over his shoulder and holding onto his bow.

Immediately Miro recognized it as the same beast that he’d spotted the previous evening, the one that he probably should have warned them about before heading to sleep. Out in the open it looked even more massive. Standing at least two heads taller than Peteri, its bald pinkish head with its two small black eyes ended in an imposing beak fit to crack nuts the size of a human skull, or perhaps even just actual human skulls. It had two small wings tucked away by its side and half its height was attributable to a pair of thick legs with feet that were tipped with sharp crooked talons.

It was eyeing Peteri cautiously, though it hadn’t yet spotted Miro, so he thought he had a good chance to get a jump on the bird. Stealthily as he could, he freed a hand from the sleeping bag. Peteri noticed Miro out of the corner of his eye and with the rest of his body remaining perfectly still, raised his free hand slightly in Miro’s direction. Peteri’s concern was appreciated but unwarranted. Miro’s replenished mana allowed for three fireballs and with even half-decent aim he should have made short work of the creature whose yellow life bar identified it as an “oxhawk”.

Miro levelled his hand and launched his first fireball towards the creature. It sailed over its head and crashed into the tree above it. The oxhawk turned its head, letting out a startled chirp and its health bar turned from yellow to red. This, Miro was coming to learn, was a terrible sign. He quickly fired off his other two fireballs – the first one went wide but the second struck the target square in its side. Miro gave a short cry of accomplishment, climbing out of his sleeping bag, and found that his successful volley did nothing. Not entirely nothing. Though while the fireball did no harm to the oxhawk physically, it seemed to have wounded it emotionally. The creature raised its wings with an outraged squawk before tearing its way towards Peteri, who let loose an arrow that the oxhawk dodged and then hardly had enough time to jump sideways out of the way of the giant bird’s legs.

The noise made by the beast had woken up the other two members of their camp. Nydra was out of her sleeping bag and on her feet, the longer of her two swords gripped in her hands while her armor still lay folded beside her. Hima the icewinder also dissolved her snow dome and stood poised with two arms outstretched to either side of her. Meanwhile, Miro was left with no weapons and his one point of mana, which was enough to summon an incinerate spell, but the oxhawk was moving too quickly for him to land anything. Perhaps if they kept it busy for another two hours he could blast it with another fireball to absolutely no effect.

After sending Peteri to the ground, the oxhawk looked insistent on finishing him off, stamping after him with its large feet as the archer rolled away to safety. A sharp whistle from Nydra drew the bird’s attention and it charged at her instead. Hima had pushed two hands forward and a slick of ice formed under the bird’s legs. The beast wobbled momentarily, and then used its sharp talons to maintain balance and lunge at Nydra. She swung her sword upward as the beast was above her, but the quick oxhawk grabbed the sword out of her hands in its beak, and tossed it aside. Peteri though had taken advantage of the preoccupied bird and sent an arrow into the beast’s side.

The oxhawk squawked, breaking off the arrow with its beak and rounding back on Peteri, but Miro noticed that its health bar had been dinged, the bird having lost about a fifth of the red bar’s length. Peteri had already notched another arrow, and this time Hima encased both the bird’s feet in blocks of ice. The oxhawk struggled to lift its legs for a moment and then an arrow sent straight through its eye caused it to topple and then lie still on the ground.

Relative tranquility returned to the woods until Hima spoke. “Can someone please explain to me why we just killed a great oxhawk?”

The old archer said nothing, but affixed Miro with a long tired look.

“It was my fault,” Miro said, “I thought I could get it while it wasn’t paying attention.”

“You didn’t need to ‘get it’,” she said, her voice steely. Miro wondered if it wasn’t just her hands that were able to access her powers because her eyes made him feel incredibly cold. “It wouldn’t have bothered you if you left it alone.”

“Well either way,” Miro said, watching his experience bar fill with precious bright blue, “Unlike you, I could have used the experience.”

“I hope it was worth it then,” Hima said, pulling out a knife from her belt and thrusting it hilt-first into Miro’s hands. “These oxhawks are critically endangered.”

“What’s this?” Miro asked, looking at the knife.

“A knife,” she answered and no further explanation followed.

“I know it’s a knife.”

“Really? Because I’ve had to seriously reset my expectations here.” She went to the bag that she’d slept with in her snow shelter, and pulled out another knife. “It’s to butcher the beast.”

“Hima,” Nydra joined in, “You said it yourself last night – we need to move without delay.”

“I did, but that was until one point of Intellect here decided to pick a fight with an oxhawk. It’s bad enough we’d killed it, we can’t just let the animal go to waste here.”

“The wolves will put it to good use,” Peteri said in his growly half-whisper.

“Forget the wolves. There may or may not be a pack in range. Both of you know the oxhawk has more loot to it than that.”

She knelt down in front of the beast, put her hand on its head for a moment, and then plunged her knife in. They stood by and watched her work, face set hard in her grim task, and to Miro it seemed that Nydra was itching to keep moving, her body tense.

“Are you a farm boy or not?” Hima asked without taking her eyes off her task. “Don’t tell me you’re too queasy to lend a hand.”

Miro gave Nydra a final pleading glance, but the swordswoman just closed her eyes, sighed and walked over to Hima, so Miro had no choice but to join them.