The Fickle Winds of Autumn

The narrow corridor trapped Kira in its rough tapered confines; the dark silhouette of Fyrttu blocked the bright corner to the exit; Kira’s panicking thoughts scrambled and rushed, but were pinned down and paralysed; she edged back into the cold protection of the sloping stone, but kept her trembling body between the steely hostility of the guard and the slumbering form of Ellis.

Fyrttu had been giggling last time Kira had seen her - but now her combatant stocky contours lurched forward threateningly; her caprine features hardened into a cruel, determined sneer; her horns lowered, poised for an attack.

A shuddering intimidated alarm pulsed through Kira’s startled ears and body.

But she couldn’t run; she couldn’t leave Ellis.

A sudden squalling bruise of shrieking feathers and talons launched past her as Harath crashed into the guard with a tenacious force.

Her powerful, undaunted aggression sent them both screeching and reeling around the corner towards the exit.

Kira dashed forward and followed the tempestuous, bitter fury into a small, smooth chamber which opened onto the rugged cliffs outside.

She squinted as its fresh brightness stung at her eyes; the raw, overwhelming chill of crisp air rushed in from the barren slopes and bit at her nose.

The strident rumble of plumage and beaks clashed discordantly; Harath had made her size and the shocking surprise of her attack count. Her hefty weight trapped Fyrrtu to the ground; her fierce beak and talons ripped at her opponent’s chest and wing feathers, in a furious storm of pale billowing plumage and grim anger.

Fyrttu squawked and screeched in shrill pain as she twisted and writhed beneath the agony and fighting menace of her queen; the wiry, agile strength of her supple flight muscles heaved her contorting body out from under Harath’s determined attacks; she wriggled free and sprung up to face her foe in resolute and deadly earnest.

Kira’s anxious blood pounded with urgent caustic torment as Fyrttu tore at her rival and unleashed a savage deluge of squalling talons and ripping jabs with her ruthless hooked beak.

Harath hopped and swerved from side to side, desperate to avoid and fend off the vicious attacks; her great wings thumped and flapped to shield her vulnerability, but her weary body could not withstand the ferocious intensity of the cruel onslaught.

A venomous swipe from Fyrttu scuttled Harath and sent her scrambling, helpless to the ground.

Kira’s shocked adrenaline thumped a relentless convulsing rhythm.

Harath had put herself in mortal danger to help her escape - she must repay that kindness; she must do something to help; she must defend Harath - or all of her selfless bravery would have been in vain.

She dodged back into the dimness of the corridor and scrabbled to pick up the hefty rock she had just dislodged.

Its firm weight sagged in her wearied arms; its dry abrasive edges roughed at her fingers as she dragged it up and carried it back around the corner to the exit chamber.

In the deadly scrambling melee, Fyrttu had twisted around and now had her back to the corridor, astride the helpless, pinioned Harath, tearing at her exposed, defenceless chest feathers.

Harath rolled and dodged, flapping her great wings to try and dislodge her opponent and buffet away the cruel ripping attacks, but the raw, sinewy power of the guard overwhelmed her with a vicious brutality of strength.

Kira had to act.

Her new friend’s life depended on her.

She wrestled the weight of the rock up to her chest; her arms burned and trembled with exhaustion and fear.

She must focus; she would have to time it carefully; she wouldn’t be able to hoist the rock up like this again; she would have to be accurate; she would have to concentrate.

Harath wrenched to the side and swiped a great clubbing wing at Fyrttu, thumping her opponent back towards the corridor.

The dry anxiety rattled at the back of Kira’s throat.

This was her chance - now, while Fyrttu was unbalanced and stumbling.

“Courage!” her heart drummed to her.

She pounced forward across the short distance and fought to lift the rock above her head.

She could not hold it there for long.

It was now or never.

She swung the rock; its momentous gravity ripped from her aching fingers, as it thudded down into the crumpling softness at the back of Fyrttu’s head.

A shuddering blast of wind roared in through the exit as the rock crashed to the ground and sent its rumbling echo crackling around the small chamber.

Kira’s shocked senses could not remember how to breathe; her dismayed blood prickled and stung at the lining of her silenced stomach; her appalled eyes stared down blankly at the motionless Fyrttu, uncertain if the guard was alive or dead.

Her turbulent thoughts reeled and fragmented, haunted by a dark conspiracy of doubts and anguish.

She could not remember ever hurting anyone before.

But the upright Harath beamed as she hopped from leg to leg.

“Yes!” she said. “You are a great warrior! Have I not told you this? I knew I sensed the spirit-soul of a great hunter-queen in you! This one had ruffled my feathers for too long - now I am most happy again! But we will celebrate this victory later - now we must get your friends to the exit, yes? Quickly, before more sentries arrive!”

This spiky, thorny guilt was not a pleasant sensation.

She couldn’t be a warrior-queen - not if it felt like this.

But her friends needed her - what else could she do?

And they were not safe yet.

There wasn’t time now to stop and dwell on such things.

Harath was right.

The noise from the fight was almost certain to have alerted other guards.

They must move.

The pathway down must just be outside.

They must escape.

Ellis and Aldwyn were still relying on her.

She must focus on the here and now - on what needed to be done.

She darted back around the corner and grasped Ellis’s limp arms; she dragged and twisted and squeezed him around the tight bend into the freshness and dazzle of the open-mouthed cave, while Harath brought Aldwyn.

The path back down the mountain must just be out of that exit.

They would be free soon.

She must stay focused and get her friends to safety.

She told her eyes not to look at the static form and scattered miserable feathers of Fyrttu, as she heaved Ellis across the short floor towards the blustery exit of the cave.

Was she some sort of monster for what she had done?Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

But her friends had needed her.

What choice did she really have?

An angry swirl of wind blasted through her thoughts and stripped away the close warmth of the nest.

A brief flurry of snowflakes melted on her nose and cheeks; she shuddered at the memory of the fierce lashing sleet which had stabbed at her face the last time she had been out there; but she could see clear across a wide gaping valley to another cliff face, so the weather couldn’t be too bad just now.

No, there was nothing to fear.

The path back down to safety must just be outside - it would be downhill all the way from here.

She could manage.

She would have to - Ellis’s life depended on her.

She released his flagging limbs and moved towards the bright edge of the cave.

She blinked into the new dazzling landscape; a huge craggy, grey mass of rocks formed a steep jagged ravine, filled with an eddying, ireful wind and billowing drifts of mist and snow.

The bitter air buffeted and forced its way into her face and lungs, and pushed her gasping back into the chamber, then relented and died.

She would have to brave the weather - she would have to get Ellis and Aldwyn down - the real danger lay back inside the caves and corridors behind her - the path must be just down outside the lip of the cave.

She forced her tired body back to the opening and placed a careful supporting hand on the wall; she leaned her cautious head out over the abrupt precipitous exit to examine the pathway and assess how best to drag Ellis down.

The rough cliff face veered sharply away below her trembling feet into a dizzying sheer wall of impossible, vertical, wind-hewn rock.

She pulled her nervous head back in.

Perhaps she hadn’t looked closely enough?

Or perhaps the pathway started a little further down the cliff?

She edged out again; her worried eyes squinted and strained down through the drifting mountain fret; down through the perpendicular dizzying distance below; the deadly serrated scars of fractured stone; the awful empty, barren jaws of unforgiving, unrelenting rock.

Her nervous stomach lurched; her faint knees wobbled and weakened; she clutched tighter to the supportive wall.

But there was nothing - no path, and no way down.