There was no way to block the sight and sound of that sickening thud as the golden eagle returns to earth; toes awash with pale silk are now stained with black as they sink upon the killer and seal his fate in one fell swoop. There is a hum in the back of my head; the return of a frantic pulse, drumming its rapid tempo. The uneasy forest seems to wait, as if it were honoring the passing with unbiased remorse...two toned ears creep forward, a hard draw within my breast cracks these quivering lips. Unmonitored fabrications drift ashore from the farthest corners while I cling to my awareness. I'd fought to preserve a pitiful existence, but my bid was shallow compared to the price. I'd wagered, but hadn't been able to pay up for the fractured life still inside me.

A merciful onlooker -a champion in his own right- forcefully balanced the scale. Empathy for his predicament might've taken root had it the energy to sprout from the bitter corpse of reality. I stare upon the malformed face of the vanquished devil...Fragments of bone are scattered over the floor; pus and gore dribble down from what remains of a face. Though his expression is logically beyond recognition, my rattled mind can still make out the vindictive sneer curling up one corner...as if...even in the act of dying, he found pleasure. I felt no relief from his death; nothing of joy. But neither did I feel any abhorrence for it...the flavor of reaping couldn't sicken me.  In one short year...I'd seen the harbinger of torment first hand - I experienced unimaginable cruelty - hate that only a tribe of demons could imagine.

Word of his failure would reach their ears. I couldn't anticipate the length they wouldn't go to preserve their dignity, their insanity. Would they forsake me as a lost cause? Or would they eventually send more...?

Foggy irises strain to the feathered king as he drops without ceremony. The stench of sweat, dirt and blood sink into the forest floor. His heaving suffrage is a mirror of my own...Like me, his body whimpers with fatigue and shock; it groans in pain. The entirety of my haunches, spine and shoulders are a playground of lacerations ranging in depth (though none are life threatening.) Hemoglobin drips, trickling from those deeper cuts. Streaks of red merge with the dust, forming a crimson mud.

Forelimbs quiver as I try to draw them from my barrel, heavy wings droop; their primaries drag the floor, "N-noah..." A plea, a whisper from the raspy shell of the woman he gambled for. It wouldn't be long before the fragrance of our tangle attracts other predators. Another crack in the distance... Shutters widen, irises refocus as renewed terror sparks life in a bed of settling ash. Nostrils flare, I remain motionless as the figure appears. But this wasn't another monster...No...The male is a less battered replica. His mountainous, rippling frame comes to a rigid stop. Horns and tassel accent the powerful being. My wavering focus lingers on his exquisite decor. The entirety of him (posture, adornment, ect) spoke of authority. His voice is loud for the quiet, taunt atmosphere. I can't help but flinch from those alien sounds. Before any semblance of a reply could squeak from the darkening crevices inside me. Another figure darts into the clearing; same as the first...but...this one is more like me and Noah in some regard.

My dwarfed frame huddles tighter, aiming to shrink into the soil itself. Irises flick warily between the two arrivals. Doubt and misgiving are my default response considering my brief life had been full of mistrust. I feared the worse reality...skirting captivity, only to be taken by a different master.

"Noah..." That trembling utterance is likely lost when the female speaks over my muffled tone. More of their garbled jargon...the only boon is that her song is more appealing in a sense that it lacks the demanding notes of her decorated counterpart. When the winged woman slips in beside me, instinctively, I lean my collapsed weight aside -- ears plant themselves along the curve of my crown. Lips crease upward, baring the flat of my teeth -- all are anxious flags of warning that bare zero weight. "Quelle," my tongue is slow, my chest is tight and speaking takes effort, "veux-tu?" My subconscious winces as another muscle spasm rocks into view. My head suddenly feels heavy...A warm grogginess...I feel...sleepy. Shutters begin to slip of their own accord...my head slants down, slopping chin-first against the ground with my neck craning protectively inward. Faintly, I'm aware that another pair of strangers has come to view our woodland freak show.