An excitable hiss whistled through the arakyns throat as it finally worked up the nerve to dive for the entangled prey, to take it down.<br/>Feathers flew and streak of black tore past in the other direction, lifting Amora’s hair in the current. It was one of the Masters birds and its aim was true enough, cawing and shrieking those rusty noises crows are famed for, it smacked clean into the startled arakyns head.<br/><br/>The predator stumbled back, all four arms blindly grasping and shakily tearing at the beating wings, sharp talons and vicious beak that had replaced his head. It hissed and wimpered, back peddling until it’s clawed foot lost the branch it had been perched on, but it’s slender figure found plenty more to batter it on the way down to the earth. Even after the fall the bird didn’t give in. It hovered furiously overhead, lurking and swooping, screaming and tearing into the arakyns skin, who was incapable of any kind of counter attack, regardless of size difference the crow was winning, the predator could only curl in on itself defensively, clutching its face in its hands whilst blood pissed through the gaps between its fingers.<br/><br/>Feathery shit had gone straight for the soft, gooey bit, the eyes!<br/><br/>In a wild card of chance, one of the arakyn’s freaked flails caught the bird under its palm, bony digits grasping and locking around it desperately. There was one last defiant birdy squeal then an ungodly crunch as tiny bones warped and caved in under its fingers. For a moment the animals head lulled at an unnatural angle, like it was attached with string rather than muscle and bone, before the arakyn threw it furiously at the ground, stumbling painfully to its feet and scarpering blindly back up into the trees.<br/><br/><br/>-----------------------                      ----------------------                   ------------------------------<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">MEANWHILE</span><br/><br/>The<span style="font-style: italic">still-young-I-swear</span>nature spirit screwed his eyes shut and barricaded himself off from the world. Hot water, fresh from the springs, lapped against his pigeon chest, legs curled beneath him,  shoulders planted back against a worn rock, one arm hooked loosely against the bank behind to keep himself from getting pulled away with the current, although he’d long since forgotten he’d left it there.<br/>Steam, from where the heat met with the chilled breeze funnelled from near-artic mountains that cradled the woodland in a troubled marriage, curled around white mane, dear-like ears and antlers. Every new passing gale blew chills into the stray water hung about exposed skin, in an oddly passionate reminder of the living sensation of his own skin.<br/>This, it all said, this is what it was to be alive.<br/><br/>And to nature spirits it was exactly that, away from the trees and the brooks, it was said that a mysterious sickness took them and slowly these androgynous, beautiful creatures withered and died.  To Ahlyen, the deer spirit, there was no better place to be.<br/><br/><br/>More than perfect scenery to meditate to. A zen zone in action. A climate of sheer, soulful acclimatization!<br/><br/>And yet...<br/><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Crrrrrraaaaawww-criiiii-criiiii-crawwwaaah!</span><br/><br/><br/>Screaming.<br/>He re-arranged himself, sitting upright to the bath-like sounds of water reshuffling in his wake, ears standing on point.<br/><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Aaaaccrraaww- crii- ccrrrriiiiii-cawww!</span><br/><br/><br/>Screaming, weeping, shrieking ripped the air to senseless tatters in what felt like every direction. It was keening in pitch, shuddering and gasping in length, a noise whose volume whinnied and meandered under the howling wind, but to a creature, now as finely tuned to nature as Ahlyen was, it fell at a constant ear splitting pitch.<br/><br/>Animal noises.<br/><br/>Like a baby howling to its mothers ears, the cry yanked at his cats cradle heartstrings until they ached for pressure...<br/><br/>A dry swallow shifted under the skin of his neck.<br/>Somewhere in the audio mix was a human voice, although complex dialogue was impossible to distinguish.<br/><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Cawww-crawwwwww—</span><br/><br/><br/>The pale threads of his brow almost kissed for frowning as he heaved every mental effort back into studying the ebb and flow of his own bodies working and rhythm. Finding the meditative state was serious business, took a lot of practice… besides, birds weren’t his jurisdiction and humans—well those fuckers could just rot, not quite as bad the deamons, who would butchers trees in the name of industry, but they were fast on their heels as far as example following went…<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Acccrraawwwww-criiii—</span><br/><br/>“<span style="font-style: italic">Nyacht.</span>”  he spat under his breath, an ancient and silken tongue, forgotten to all the spirits,  thankfully made for the best damn curses. Jaw jut, he mournfully inspected the hot spring around him before hauling his dripping carcass out onto the frosty earth, the sensation was an aching shock, like salt to a wound, though he silently supposed the only thing wounded was his ego.<br/><br/>Now... well... Ahlyen was still groggy from a long hibernation (try sixty years out fro size) and as much as he told himself that nature butchered cute and fluffy things at a going rate of fifty-snuffs-per-hour, he found himself frighteningly susceptible to pity...<br/><br/>Shaking himself free from water and retrieving his bandoleer and poncho (it was all he wore, calf length and hand weaved by an old mountain with he’d once been friendly with, it was the only article of clothing that stayed intact during his turning process) anxiously following his ears, running on strange and basic instinct now, leaving melting prints under bare-foot.<br/><br/>It took him a grand total of five minutes to locate the culprit.<br/><br/>Traps were set in the branches for as far as the gaze could stretch. To an outsider, they were little more than large spiders webs, like all natural cracks in glass, sculpting out patterns in the shadowy under bush from one twig to the next, but to anyone with a true understanding of the force and ferocity of nature, they were premonitions of a slow, horrible death.<br/><br/>Dead center of one of these devices a human had caught up in one of the lines and, where it had struggled, tangled. Dew drops of blood collected around it like beads on a string, but it wasn’t the humans blood…. The bird he’d heard was already dead on the floor, blood pouring from its open beak, eyes popped wide and bulging grotesquely.<br/><br/><br/>It stank of iron, overwhelmingly of iron and fear, Ahlyens knees went weak beneath him, stomach lurched uneasy, scarcely supporting himself and forcing him into a stumble until he pulled his cloak over his mouth and nose.<br/>That was another downside to being a nature spirit, one of few; blood, the sight and smell almost knocked you clean out, if not, at the very least, physically sick.<br/><br/><br/>Ahyens lips pinched into a tight line as he forced his mind away from the event and reluctantly he strode over to free the poor human, no time to wonder where she’d come from or why she was here…<br/><br/>“Are you okay?” he asked shakily, unsheaving a small dagger and carefully cutting her loose, “Look, I…” words were a struggle, all the colour had fled his skin, “the arakyn… where there’s one there’s always more. Take my knife, run, fight if you have to, they’ll leave prey alone if it looks like too much trouble… I’ll catch up,” his husky blue eyes fixed on her for a moment, trying to fully convey the deadly seriousness of the situation. He HAD to find a moment to turn into his deer form and…<br/>--Ahyen winced at the thought—<br/>… give her a ride out of the woods on his back. Arakyn were fast fuckers fast enough they’d have no trouble chasing a human down on foot… a deer though… that MIGHT have a fighting chance!