Shortbeak lost her dagger when a heavy club smashed into her wrist. She responded by pivoting on the spot, turning her entire body around in a blur of motion, bringing her rear legs to bear and kicking another opponent hard enough to send him sprawling as she focused on another newcomer with her free claw, slashing through his leather armour and raking the chainmail underneath and then cutting up across his face with a backswing. She used her wings to maintain a near constant hover, which was as much a constant slow fall from the occasional leap and jump as it was actually maintained by wing power alone. She manoeuvred on the spot before one of their numbers managed to get a clear shot and pierced her wing with an arrow. She shrieked in pain and floundered. They didn’t wait; another three were upon her as soon as they saw a moment of weakness.