Lament of the Slave

Chapter 61: Struggle

Although the young mossbear has found new strength and ferocity, I somehow managed. My speed was enough to avoid the beast's paws and keep enough distance from its maw. I only had to use double speed twice when I wasn't fast enough with the wings and the tail.

Having extra limbs was an advantage in many situations but also an extra hassle in others.

It was incredibly uncomfortable to have wet wings after a bath, and drying Sage seemed impossible. Whereas, by flapping my wings, I could help myself to longer jumps, faster sidesteps, or propel forward with more speed. The tail helped me turn quicker, to cheer me up when I was down, and together with the wings, were invaluable tools for getting my balance in the air. Yet, they were also extra limbs that I had to be careful not to get too close to the teeth or claws of the mossbear that I faced.

It wasn't long before I found myself in a strange rhythm of evasive movements, unable to find an opportunity to attack. This dance, as Deckard called it, or as he literally said, "Stop dancing around and attack," may not have helped me defeat the beast, but it gave me time to sort out my concentration. It still required some fine tuning, though. No doubt tons of experience too.

I almost thought I found the recipe for Tate's win, as it seemed that the mossbear's lack of nimbleness was their biggest flaw. All the workhand had to do was run. Run as fast as he could, and his luck took care of the rest. How wrong I was, thinking we were in some sort of stalemate where I couldn't find an opportunity to attack just as the beast was unable to reach me.

It was sheer luck when half a dozen shoots burst out of the moss on the beast's back, aiming for my head, and I formed a shield just in time to deflect them before they could gouge my eyes out. I could almost hear in my head Deckard warning me about this very thing.

These green shoots, as thick as my fingers, may not have been able to break my shield, but they were enough to make me stagger.

Spreading my wings was all I needed to steady myself, but it was also something mossbear took advantage of. It pounced so fast that I didn't have time to pull them back and could only watch in dread as the beast bit into my right wing. Watching his teeth sink into it while I was unable to stop it was nerve-wracking. I was just glad the wing didn't have that many nerve endings. It didn't mean I didn't feel pain. It just didn't hurt that much. Plus, there was a slight pain reduction, one particular skill provided me. I didn't even flinch.

But I panicked, wondering how I was supposed to react to something like this. Nobody taught me that or explained to me how to deal with such a situation.

"Traiana's tits, attack! Punch it, girl!" Deckard screamed in my head. "Don't let the beast drag you down!"

Remembering how I had been dragged by one such mossbear through the burning woods and how helpless I was, I suppressed my fear and hurled myself at the beast that had just yanked its head in an attempt to tear my wing off. That wasn't something I wanted to experience again, either.

So, by slashing my claws across its muzzle, I tried to get it to let go of my wing. I would have succeeded if I'd hit its nose, I was sure of that. Instead, I screamed as the mossbear twisted my wing so much that it strained my hip joint. Even so, I stood strong, resisting its efforts to pull me under, knowing that if I gave in, it would be the end of me.

When all the beast accomplished was a few bloody gashes on my thigh, as I failed to jump aside far enough with my wing in its mouth, it decided to ram me to the ground. Good thinking. It had me trapped in front of it, I was just too nimble for it to finish me off. I could only curse its intelligence when the young mossbear lowered its head and sprang forward.

It was close, so damn close. But I managed to leap up and escape the painful crush. I don't know why I did it, probably some instinct, but I didn't fall on the forest floor. To the beast's amazement as well as mine, I landed in a squat on its head. Of course, mossbear took it with considerable displeasure. It was trying desperately to get me out of its head, going crazy like a bull on a rodeo. Me? I held on tooth and nail, desperately trying to get the beast to let go of my wing because if I fell, I was in danger of ripping my wing off.