Perversions of the Flesh

Chapter 244: Dreaming of Wings On Which to Fly

Lucia Simourgh

The dream was clearly a dream this time. The bark of the trees swam in nauseating patterns, and Lucia actively avoided looking at them too closely. It was a different climate than the last time. Bryltia had pulled her into a jungle, but this was more of a temperate forest. It was hilly, or even mountainous, with stone jutting from the soil. Scrub grasses and rich mosses covered the floor of the forest, while thick pine trees provided the ceiling. Even so, dappled sunlight still made it through. It was the type of forest that would choke out new trees. Old and waiting for something to start a fire.

Lucia hoped Ann was wrong about her Warped. Otherwise, she’d be in a terrible spot.

It was loud in the forest. As Lucia walked, birds sang their merry tunes, and other creatures could be heard rustling through the underbrush. Even the trees spoke their ancient language in deep creaks and pops.

Her father had said he could understand that language, but she’d never picked it up. It sounded silly. Trees were alive, yes, but if they could talk, it would be through means a normal person couldn’t detect. Smells or something like that. Unless they were Warped. Then they might be able to talk. Ann had met one that was alive, but it didn’t talk. It was full of birds.

On the subject of birds, Lucia was on the lookout for her prey. She’d just gotten into the dream, but was on full alert for the phoenix. It coming back this quickly worried her, but if it was like Bren said, the thing was still growing. New growth would rebound faster. Old growth took longer to heal. Unless it was the opposite here? Ann had said the creature her bird resembled was a symbol of rebirth. Could be that the creature regenerated more quickly when it lived for longer?

Then there was the frustrating part of this not being the real world. Reality had rules and made sense. This place was entirely up to her inner self and the creature that had taken root there. Even if she wandered forever, came back multiple times, she doubted it would be the same every single time. Maybe some repeats of environments, but that stream to her left might be somewhere else, or missing entirely.

Setting up traps might be useless, too. If she set up a snare designed for a forest and was sent to a mountain or grassland, the thing would stick out like a tusk on an Alfhindur. Making sure she had a reliable setup for a bird would be frustrating. Pitfalls would be a great tool since she could just dig the pit, then cover it with sticks and let the environment change on top of it. That’d even work in the snow or on a beach. Still, the old but reliable basket trap could be used. She just needed to figure out how to bait it.

That was the biggest issue Lucia faced in this hunt. She knew literally nothing about her prey besides that it was a bird, what it looked like, what it sounded like, and that it tarnished into a flaky substance when killed. What did it eat? Did it hunt, or was it a foraging bird? Did it even stay the same type of bird every time it was reborn? Nothing could be known until she experienced it.

She hiked Fillianore on her shoulder and moved on. Standing here stupidly would do nothing. Bren would have grumbled at her for thinking like that, but he wasn’t here right now.

Actually, he wasn’t here, right now. Lucia tried to access the Bond, but couldn’t. He was just absent. A rare moment of privacy for them after their link had deepened. It felt strange. Like one of her eyes was covered. The extra sensory input or feedback on thoughts was something she’d come to rely on. Even just the feeling of his thoughts tumbling over one another nearby was comforting now.

Lucia’s lips pulled in a sneer over her tusks. She’d get this over with and get that back. Who knew? Maybe once they were properly introduced to their Warped, they’d be able to visit each other. Bren had said that the library was hard to describe. She wanted to experience it herself.

He probably wouldn’t want to do the same.

A snap of a branch made Lucia freeze. Fillianore was already in her hands as she inhaled deeply. Scents of every living thing filled her nostrils. She could easily filter out the dirt and plant life, but let the smells of animals settle. The faint acrid scent of bird faeces, the musty smell of a squirrel’s fur, the oily smell of another creature she wasn’t entirely familiar with. The second crack of a branch let her hone the direction. 

It was a Backbuck. She’d hunted a few of them. They were mutated deer that had their heads on the wrong end. Their tail was near their forelegs, and their head and neck were on the back. Their legs stayed pointing in the same direction, so they were constantly walking backwards. They were ungainly things, but had carved out a habitat in the mountains further south of Thalten.

Lucia crept around a tree, peering through her long black hair as she spied it. This one had a gorgeous rack of antlers. Two branches of bone jutted out of its temples, stretching wide to the sides, then curling upwards in graceful curves. Each split several times, then again. The things resembled thorny halves of a ring that nearly met at the top. A quick count told Lucia there were likely forty points on that head. A collector would pay handsomely for it.

Still, she wasn’t here for the buck. She was here for the bird.

A flash caught her attention as she turned her head to move on. Copper glinting against the green backdrop.

The Backbuck looked up and bolted. It made it four strides before a streak of metallic beauty pierced straight through the creature. Blood splashed in a grisly scene as the creature’s already dead body took a couple steps, then collapsed heavily.

Standing there as if it hadn’t just thrown itself full speed into the ground was the bird. Its iridescent green and blue plumage was stained red. The wicked beak dripped as it tossed something into the air.

A heart.

The long neck stretched out and snagged it out of the air. It hopped over to a rock, placed the heart there, and started tearing it apart. As it did, the thing was ever watchful. Every rip was followed by it scanning the area as it swallowed. Lucia knew those gemstone eyes were keen if it was a raptor. She stayed as still as possible, letting her natural ability to blend into the environment take hold.

As the bird ate, it gave her time to think. It was fast. Faster than it had been the last time. The talons were also significantly larger. Was the neck a little shorter as well? It had definitely changed. Was its rebirth the trigger? Would it be a different challenge each time? If it was something Bryltia wanted her to hunt, she had little illusion this thing would be simple. If it got more difficult as it died over and over, then it was literally the perfect creature for a Huntress.

Lucia felt the thrill rising in her chest at the thought. Something she could hunt over and over that would constantly change up the method with which she needed to hunt it? She’d thought Bryltia was being cruel in her reticence to provide protection like the rest, but no. Bryltia knew her children well. Lucia had chosen her path, and this was it! Now the hunt was no longer just an external thing, but inside her as well.

The gorgeous creature finished its meal and, with a single flap, soared into the trees.

Lucia waited. It had taken its prize, but she needed to be sure it wouldn’t catch her. Surprise was her best tool, and wasting it would make this infinitely harder. When there was no sign of the bird’s return, she crept out to check the corpse.

Rosalyn probably could have said a lot more, but Lucia only needed to know two things. How clean was the kill, and the manner in which it killed? It had appeared as if the bird just flew through the buck, but that might not have been the case. Things moving too quickly for the eye was something she needed to consider.

The smell hit her first. Burning flesh and fur filled her nose along with the scent of blood. As she got closer, the other scents that came with a dead body followed. Sweat, panic, scat, urine. Even as fresh as this kill was, the buck had had the faintest bit of warning. Enough to send it into a primal state of fear. The type of fear that made a creature evacuate its bowels to run faster.

Lucia knelt in the blood. Really, there was no way to avoid it. The impact had knocked the deer a few inches off its feet, so it lay squarely in the splash. Cleaning up would need to be done before she took off. The wound itself was brutal. The edge of the wound was ragged with clean gashes along the edge. Like knives had cut into it. Then there were the burns. Fur around the hole was scorched black, as was the skin beneath.

Sharp feathers. Not only that, but it could make itself superheated. Maybe it needed to fly like that to gain those temperatures? A theory she would need to test. For now, she knew it was a predator, and it ate hearts. Maybe more, if the prey was small enough, but narrowing things down was important.

Lucia noted the indent where the creature had landed. The ground was pulverised. A small crater was smoking in the blood with two distinct prints of the bird’s talons. The claws sank deep whenever it stepped. At best, they were four inches long. Practically knives themselves. The creature’s fragile and glittery beauty seemed to be a distraction from how deadly it could be. Maybe a warning? Warnings were usually for predators, though. What would hunt a creature like this? One that couldn’t know it would be hunted back, that’s for sure. Yet here Lucia was, about to do exactly that.

A trilling cry in the distance, and Lucia’s leather creaked softly as she tracked it. Having Ann’s ears would be nice right now. Kat could hear just as well, but Ann’s mobile ears could pick up direction better.

She stalked through the forest towards the last place she’d heard the sound. Only rarely did she take her eyes off the canopy. Letting the bird get a drop on her could mean death. No, more certain than that. It would mean death. She did not want to find out what death meant for her. Kat could jump off a cliff in her soul and just pop out of the vision, but Lucia doubted Bryltia would make things that simple. Failure required a lesson be learned, and pain was a powerful teacher.

Scrabbling down the face of a massive stone that had become part of a hillside, she heard the cry again. To her right. She shifted directions deftly. It was close. Fillianore was in her hands. The gun had been loaded from the start, despite her not doing so. She just knew it. Still, she checked the chamber quietly and confirmed a round ready to fire. It might be the only shot she got.

Testing the ground with each step, she found it springy. Moss and decades of pine needles had decomposed into a fertile bed for life. It would also make her footing less sure. A rock or tree would have been preferable, or maybe some drier ground, but she would make do.

Gathering pieces of bushes and tree branches as she went, Lucia started sticking them into straps and her hair. Fillianore didn’t have straps, and the scope might glint, but she’d just have to deal with that. Blending into the forest while she was on the move was more important right now. Since she was close, these pieces of detritus would match the locale better than a few hundred feet away. The differences were subtle, but the scent made all the difference. Here was a wetter smell, while near the deer had been drier.

A final cry made Lucia stop. It was nearly on top of her. Time to set up the trap.

Working quickly, she set up her stand. Branches and leaves arranged as quietly as she could manage into a small cover. Several others for more defensive purposes. Everything needed to be disguised for this to be pulled off, or the contingency plan to work.

Once she was happy, she reviewed the work again. It looked like a pile of branches, needles, and twigs. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a clump of natural forest litter.

Carefully, she crawled into the mess and crouched there. The strong scent of the pine would mask her own, and she could track her prey through gaps set up. It’d be tight, but she could make it work.

It was time. Taking a breath, she cupped her hands to her mouth. Her mother had taught her how to mimic animal calls. Pulling on that, she arranged her fingers to let the air reverberate correctly and made the humming cry.

Nothing.

She scanned the branches. A metallic bird shouldn’t be able to hide that well.

Nothing.

Should she do it again?

Still nothing.

Definitely need an- there!

A glint of red among green needles and brown wood. The wings shot by as the creature searched for the source of the sound. It’d circle, trying to find her, looking for a buck.

Lucia couldn’t move much, so she aimed toward a spot in the creature’s circling path. All she had to do was wait. One pass went by, letting her gauge the speed. It also let her prepare her shot. Sniper’s focus was a given. She added Trick Shot on, just to be safe. The Big One wasn’t appropriate here. It slowed the bullet down a bit.

In the silence, she heard the bird’s wings as it continued its flight. Almost there.

As the creature neared Lucia’s sights, she pulled the trigger. Leading something so agile and quick was tricky. She’d had practice.

Still, she jumped when the bird changed trajectory the moment it heard the report of her rifle.

Instinctually, she fired off Trick Shot. The bullet ricocheted off nothing and streaked toward the bird.

It tucked its wings and dove.

Straight at Lucia.

She didn’t even have time to curse as she dove out of her camouflage. Twigs and leaves exploded everywhere. Heat exploded behind her. She hit dirt.

A piercing cry of pain.

Looking behind her, she saw the backup had worked.

The bird lay there, impaled by sharpened stakes she’d driven into the ground. It was a mean trap. If the creature didn’t hit it right, it’d put the thing in excruciating agony. Not her preference, but when you were being hunted, survival didn’t care about morals.

The thing bled black, just like all Warped. The stakes were charred as well. Seemed her theory about superheating itself was correct. Now to finish it off.

Gemstone eyes fixed on her as Lucia lifted the rifle. Only a fool would finish off a wounded creature like this by getting in close.

Still, something tugged at her emotions. The bird had begun to sing again. It was strained, full of pain, but it sang that song from the first time she’d pursued her new quarry.

An explosion.

A soft thud.

Silence.

Lucia set Fillianore down. The deed was done.

The bird was already showing signs of tarnish as she approached it. Brilliant copper had turned to a dull green with white outlines as it spread from the wound. That fearsome beak was still open, its eyes staring straight ahead as it slowly crumbled.

“Sorry.”

Lucia wasn’t entirely sure why she’d said that. She didn’t think she meant it. This was a contest. The Warped could come back time after time, but she couldn’t. Well, at least she didn’t think so. Nor did she want to test that.

For now, she sat there and watched her prey wither away.

As it did, the forest around them blurred and faded until it was just the two left in a smudge of brown. As the final flake of the bird’s feathers faded, Lucia felt herself falling back into the realm of slumber.