《Bogatyr》 Prologue "The Empire grew too quickly, your majesty. Soon the winter stock will be emptied, and we haven''t seen the firstshoot of spring yet." A stubby man wearing furs was struggling to keep up with the stride of the prince. Hope Kitanda turned thirteen today. Were it any other child in the village, a big celebration would be in order. However, the Tanuri village was quiet. There was no roaring bonfire or chants, and the ceremonial masks gathered dust in the storage. The only thing out of the ordinary in Kitanda¡¯s hut was the slightly-less-miserable-than-usual dinner. He brought the tasteless gruel to his open mouth and swallowed, making sure to suck at his fingers to not waste any of it. His back straight and proud chest made him look no different than any other young hunter around. He was surprisingly well-built for a child that had been feeding on something worse than that gruel his whole life. After properly thanking Chakula for the meal, he sat there and watched his mother put aside the clay bowls while his father took out a pipe and smoked. No words were said, but tension filled the unassuming hut. His father got up and crouched behind him. With practiced movements, he lifted him up like one would a baby or a particularly important sack of potatoes, and carefully set him down on the bed. Laid down, the contrast between his upper and lower half was evident. After his abdomen, the strong body gave way to unnaturally thin legs. The chicken-like appendages were bent at uncomfortable angles, but Kitanda didn¡¯t care¡ªor, rather, he didn¡¯t feel them. He had been this way since the day he was born. The way his mother told it, as soon as he was born the air turned cold and all the water in the village froze over. Thick black clouds covered the sky and a flurry of snow struck the huts, leaving them stranded for two whole weeks. When the cold blew over his legs had shriveled. The shaman, who like everyone else had never seen snow or felt such cold, deemed it a divine punishment and had his family ostracized. They were lucky they weren¡¯t expelled from the village altogether. But, although they had long grown used to such treatment, today felt especially bleak. Thirteen was a special milestone for all Tanuri children. Every child older than thirteen would have to undergo initiation. Tanuri initiation was not a simple ritual or ceremony. It was an arduous task in which survival was not guaranteed, and not even all who survived passed. Failures were exiled, which for Kitanda would mean the same as death. The very real possibility hovering over him, he closed his eyes and slept. ¡°What are we going to do about Kitanda?¡± His mother Towe finally broke the silence. ¡°What is there to do? We knew it would happen eventually.¡± He was resigned but sad. ¡°I know that, Ilem! I just don¡¯t want to let go of my little boy just yet. It¡¯s not his fault he¡¯s like that!¡± Ilem held up a hand. ¡°He won¡¯t be initiated just yet. There is still half a year until the Day of Nuru, and who knows what could happen until then.¡± ¡°The gods know nothing will happen until then! If they wanted him to heal it would have happened already. We have to do something ourselves.¡± Ilem rolled his eyes and started on a well-practiced argument. ¡°What do you suggest, then? Neither you nor I know anything about the healing arts, and the shaman won¡¯t get anywhere near the boy.¡± They both sat staring at each other, the smoldering fire casting wavy red lights on the walls. Ilem got up and walked the length of the room over and over again. He wasn¡¯t happy. ¡°I might know of something.¡± Morning came with the cries of playing children and the banter of women. The men had left to hunt. Kitanda cracked open his eyes and looked out the window. The children noticed him and started shouting. ¡°It¡¯s Kitanda the chicken!¡± They started mimicking the cries of chickens while jumping around. A few of the children seemed scared. ¡°Hey, my ma says to never go near Kitanda. The gods don¡¯t like him and if they see us with him they won¡¯t like us either.¡± Kitanda just chuckled to himself and looked around inside. ¡°Is pa gone? He usually only leaves after noon.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what got into him this morning,¡± Towa said after taking a break from tanning a wild dog hide. ¡°He took a sack with pots and food and said he would be gone for a week. No explanation.¡± His family provided most of the village with leather, since wild game was, well, wild. It didn¡¯t belong in the village and neither did they. His mother awkwardly struggled to carry him to the tanning racks. She wasn¡¯t used to it. Kitanda got to work scraping fur off the hide and smearing oil on already dried leather. Any men of the village would find this type of work disgraceful, but he took pride in it. He liked being useful. * * * Ilem arrived at his destination two nights after that, after two full days of leisurely travel. He was in a rush, but he didn¡¯t want to overexert himself. The place he was going to was dangerous, and he wanted to be in perfect shape for it.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. The spiked wooden wall stood tall before him. This was his hometown, Jino. It was roughly the same size as Tanuri, but that¡¯s about all the two villages had in common. Tanuri was a hunting village¡ªthat is to say, it depended on hunting for its survival. They were servants of goddess Chakula, who oversaw meals. Their hunters were only allowed to bring back as much as Chakula gave them, and they didn¡¯t wish for more. Jino, on the other hand, revered death. The purpose of their life was to take life, as if in doing so they absorbed the life of their enemies and grew stronger. Ilem had left the village because he had never been as strong as his fellow men. In Jino, not being strong meant not being useful. However, leaving the village was no small matter. In Jino, things that were not in the village were things to be killed. Steeling himself, Ilem hugged the wall until he came to a gate. No one was posted there. After all, anything in the village was much more dangerous than anything outside. Uproarious laughter and singing were heard from inside. Life in the village was mostly reduced to hunting and celebrating, and today was no exception. Ilem comforted himself with the thought that no self-respecting warrior from that village would miss out on the meat and the drinking and hurried inside. Digging through his memories, he managed to guide himself to the tent that looked the best inside the walls. Best-looking didn¡¯t mean objectively good-looking. Not by a long shot. The leather curtains on the doorway still had tufts of fur hanging here and there, and they were obviously not tanned. However, it was the only tent with a whole ceiling, and it wasn¡¯t surrounded by a scattering of bones from past meals. He pushed aside the curtains, retching at the smell of rot, and walked in cautiously. A woman was sleeping naked on the floor. She was old and somewhat fat, and she was sprawled on a patch of lush grass that had no business being around all that decay. Ilem shook her awake. ¡°Ma. Ma, it¡¯s me! Ma!¡± She mumbled something about meat as she sat up. ¡°Who in the hells would¡ªIlem! What are you doing here, boy? You¡¯re not allowed in the village!¡± She sounded angry, but she had a smile on her face that betrayed her. ¡°It has been too long, son! How is your child doing?¡± ¡°How do you¡ª?¡± Ilem stopped himself before asking a stupid question. ¡°Can¡¯t a mother check on his son every now and then? You can¡¯t come to visit, so I look at you through the grass. Mama Nyasi¡ªIlem¡¯s mother, was a chanter. They were extremely rare, but wherever a chanter was born was sure to become prosperous. They could communicate with the spirits of the world. Mama Nyasi was friends with the grass spirits. They told her everything the grass saw¡ªwhich was pretty much everything. That¡¯s why her tent was the best in the village, and why she wouldn¡¯t get in trouble for sleeping instead of partying with the rest. Ilem offered her some hides and ceramic bowls. ¡°Here. Please make sure to replace the curtains. Even I have better curtains than those, and I have the worst tent in the village.¡± Mama Nyasi took them and looked at them before turning back to his son. ¡°So why are you here, then? I know you didn¡¯t comejust to see your mother.¡± ¡°It¡¯s Kitanda, my son. He turned thirteen yesterday.¡± ¡°O-ho-ho¡­ Initiation, huh?¡± Mama Nyasi looked somewhat amused. ¡°Yes. I don¡¯t know what I will do. He can¡¯t participate in the initiation as is, and the way things are going that¡¯s not likely to change. He will die, ma.¡± ¡°And you want me to¡­?¡± She sounded confused. The Tanuri tribe might not have warriors as strong as the Jino, but they were ahead in pretty much every aspect. If Kitanda couldn¡¯t find help there, he sure as hell wouldn¡¯t find it here. ¡°Ask the grass. Look for something that will cure him. I don¡¯t care what. I see him every day, ma. He looks out the window while he works. He longs for the outside. I must heal him.¡± Mama Nyasi gave an understanding nod and closed her eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, she opened them up again. ¡°I have seen a raven fly about three days south of here.¡± She said nothing more. ¡°A raven? How is that supposed to help?¡± ¡°Ravens don¡¯t fly south of here.¡± * * * His father came back a full week later, as promised. He seemed unaltered except for his eyes. They looked wild. ¡°I did it!¡± He didn¡¯t even say hello. ¡°Kitanda! We must leave now!¡± ¡°What is the meaning of this, Ilem? What did you do?¡± Towa looked confused. ¡°There¡¯s no time to explain! We¡¯re going to see the Raven!¡± He crouched in front of Kitanda and motioned for him to hold onto him. ¡°The Raven? You¡¯re crazy! Gone! I will not allow this!¡± Towa raised her voice. ¡°Kitanda, you stay here!¡± Kitanda hesitated. Of course, he knew about the Raven. Everyone did. Every child was told that they had better not wander off or the Raven would take them. They even made a game and song: Stand in a circle and look around Look to the front and look to the sides Every kid here likes to play and run One goes, gets lost, gets hurt and cries Beware the black bird out on a hunt The Raven will heal their teary eyes Pick them up and take to the skies! It was nothing but a tale to scare children into being obedient. At Kitanda¡¯s age, you would have to be some kind of stupid to believe in it. At least that¡¯s what Kitanda thought. His father must have gone crazy in the week he was away. Ilem urged him on while dismissing his wife. ¡°No, I¡¯m telling you it¡¯s alright! I went out to see Mama Nyasi in the next village over. I offered her our hides and bowls and she used her divination powers to tell me where the Raven was.¡± ¡°But the Raven isn¡¯t real! It¡¯s an old wives¡¯ tale!¡± Towe wasn¡¯t convinced. ¡°If the Raven is not real then it won¡¯t matter anyway! Let¡¯s give this a try. We¡¯ve got nothing to lose and I¡¯ll go mad waiting for the initiation doing nothing!¡± Kitanda caved and grabbed onto him. Even if he thought this was a fool¡¯s errand, his father was betting it all to try to save him. It would be rude not to go. His mother looked reluctant but decided to send them off with some food. ¡°You had better not hurt my little boy, or I¡¯ll never forgive you, you hear me?¡± They set out in the dark without waking any of their neighbors. They walked for two-hour intervals with twenty-minute breaks in between. As time went on, however, Kitanda saw his father¡¯s breathing turn rugged and forceful. He was a hunter, but not even he was used to carrying such weight over long distances. He felt bad. ¡°Pa, isn¡¯t the Raven bad?¡± He asked while they were walking. He hadn¡¯t wanted to admit it, but a fear of the individual was gnawing at him ever since they set out. ¡°We don¡¯t know that. He takes kids away, but that is all. What we do know is that the Raven is a master of the healing arts. No illness or wound escape him.¡± Ilem trudged on. ¡°And, in any case, I would prefer it if he took you away and let you live. The heavens know you would not survive the initiation.¡± Kitanda agreed in his head. He knew his hope of surviving lay away from the village. They both looked forward as the sun rose to their left. They had a long way to go. The Raven The blazing sun felt like needles on Kitanda¡¯s back. It had been six days now, and his father made no sign of being close to their destination. Their pace was definitely slower than when they set out, but more constant. At least Ilem seemed more accustomed to carrying him now. The dry air felt like sandpaper down his throat. They had run out of water two days ago. Neither of them held much hope, but they knew better than to turn back. The chances of survival were slim if they kept going, but it was better than nothing. Kitanda fought to stay awake. It was the morning, and they had rested the night before. He knew what was taking him wasn¡¯t sleep¡ªit was thirst. His body was shutting down. His grip slipped. He met the ground with a heavy thud. His father turned around and took a second to focus on him. Once he realized what was going on, he crouched and started to desperately try to wake him. ¡°Hold on, Kitanda! The Raven is close, I know it!¡± He would cry, but his body couldn¡¯t spare the tears. ¡°Wait here. I saw some flood plants before. Plants mean water, Kitanda! There must be a river close by.¡± He propped him up under a tree away from the desiccating sunlight and took off as fast as he could, which was only a bit faster than walking. Kitanda was barely aware of his surroundings. He could feel the tree against his back and could hear the rustling of dry leaves. He wanted to open his eyes, but it wasn¡¯t happening. He knew death was coming to him soon. Any time now he would breathe out and wouldn¡¯t have the strength to breathe in again. He wasn¡¯t angry¡ªor afraid, for that matter. He knew his was a cursed existence. The gods didn¡¯t want him to live, and there wasn¡¯t much one could do against the gods. His death would¡¯ve come sooner or later, and he was glad it was such a calm one. The rustling of the leaves intensified. It was only then that Kitanda realized he couldn¡¯t feel wind on his skin. Something else was making the branches move. A grating croak interrupted his thoughts. It drilled deep into his head. Another rustle and a flutter of wings later, something landed next to him. It sounded much too big for a bird. A rough hand cupped his face. ¡°I don¡¯t much like being followed, you know.¡± The voice was more like a screech than a regular voice, as if something that wasn¡¯t human was pretending to be. ¡°Let¡¯s see what¡¯s wrong with this one¡­ Most urgently, I would say water. His spirit is halfway out of his body already.¡± A popping sound and sloshing of water were heard. ¡°Drink up, boy. You¡¯re not dying yet.¡± Water filled his mouth. It healed him as it went down and eventually reached his stomach. Every gulp filled him with energy. He drank for what felt like minutes. The water bottle showed no signs of letting up. Once he couldn¡¯t drink anymore, the hand started turning his head and feeling his neck. Finally, it forced open one of his eyes. Kitanda took a while to focus on the black mass that sat in front of him. His savior didn¡¯t seem bothered by his surprise. It was a man. Black like coal, and taller than any man he had ever seen. He was crouching in front of him, and yet he would still be a full head taller than a regular man. And, speaking of heads, Kitanda didn¡¯t believe what sat on the man¡¯s shoulders. It was a raven¡¯s head, but it was bigger than a whole raven. It was even bigger than most birds he knew. It had the blackest feathers he had ever seen¡ªas if light shied away from them¡ªand his beady eyes, big like fists, stared at him curiously. The head also twitched in a manner characteristic of birds, as if he couldn¡¯t help but give in to his avian side.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡°Ah, there you go, child.¡± His beak opened and closed like a pair of lips, chattering whenever they came together. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Kitanda took a while to answer. This gigantic beast surely couldn¡¯t be talking to him. But, then again, who else would it be talking to? ¡°Kitanda, mister.¡± ¡°Save your misters for the village chief, son. Call me Raven.¡± The man was obviously trying to be friendly, but his grating voice and the lack of facial expression stacked up against him. ¡°Why did you save me?¡± ¡°I¡¯m the Raven. It¡¯s what I do. The fire consumes, the wind whispers, the Raven heals.¡± The Raven seemed almost surprised by the question, as if someone had asked him why water was wet. Kitanda looked around nervously. His father wasn¡¯t anywhere he could see. ¡°Did you see my father? He said he was going to a river some time ago. He may need help.¡± ¡°That I did. He certainly is in dire straits. If he¡¯s extremely lucky, he¡¯ll make it to the water. It doesn¡¯t look too good, though.¡± ¡°Help him then!¡± Kitanda didn¡¯t seem to care that he was yelling orders at a ten-feet-tall mystical creature. His father was there because of him. ¡°Now, now. You remember the song, don¡¯t you?¡± The bird-headed giant started to sing. ¡°It goes ¡®every kid here likes to play and run; one gets lost, gets hurt and cries,¡¯ doesn¡¯t it? That there is not a hurt, lost kid. Only you are.¡± ¡°But he¡¯s my father! You have to¡ª¡± Before he could finish the sentence, the man¡¯s hands grabbed onto his shoulders with a strong grip. As he looked, they became thinner and the nails longer, until a bird¡¯s talons were digging into him. It hurt. The transformation didn¡¯t stop there. From the arms up and from the head down, black feathers started sprouting on the man. His legs became a tail, and wings sprouted from his shoulders. He started to flap them, raising dust and rolling pebbles until he took off with a last, powerful thrust. ¡°Now I have to take you away. It¡¯s part of the contract, see?¡± Kitanda protested in vain. His words were drowned by the wind, and any flailing only made the talons scratch him deeper. They flew for three days and three nights, at a speed faster than the wind. The clouds came and went almost before he could register them, until eventually they slowed down on the fourth morning. The Raven descended until Kitanda¡¯s feet barely touched the ground and let him go. Kitanda looked around. He was at the shore of a lake full of crystal-clear water. Fish of all colors and sizes danced inside, apparently unbothered by the titanic bird that was still creating ripples over their heads. All throughout the lake¡¯s rim, many plants grew¡ªcanes, grass, some healthy trees, and even some flowers he recognized as traditional medicinal plants. The lake flowed out into a river that went as far as the eye could see down the elevated terrain. It was beautiful. The Raven landed beside him and turned back into his (mostly) human form. ¡°This is where I live, and where I take all the children who disappear.¡± Kitanda couldn¡¯t help but notice a distinct lack of children. ¡°What do you do with them?¡± ¡°Oh, they mostly decide to stay, but eventually they want to go back. I can never say no to them, so I tell them to follow the river back home.¡± He gestured towards the flowing stream. ¡°They always complain it¡¯s too long a journey, so I try to help them make it speedier.¡± He crouched down and twiddled a finger in the water, playing with the fish. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right, my boys?¡± He got up. ¡°They usually forget about going away after that. It¡¯s a problem with most fish, really. They have surprisingly little memory.¡± ¡°I-I don¡¯t want that!¡± Kitanda shuffled backward, dragging himself away from the pond. The Raven shrugged. ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to happen, you know. You can always stay.¡± ¡°No! I want to go back! My father must be missing me already! He went through all this trouble so you would heal my legs, and now he must think he killed me!¡± ¡°Ah, yes. Your legs. I wanted to look at those. Come here.¡± He sat down cross-legged and pulled him by the ankle. ¡°I see. You have the cold in your bones, kid. No wonder they¡¯re all shriveled up. I can solve this, however. But only if you stay.¡± His head twitched to the side, almost appearing inquisitive. ¡°I cannot do that. I must return home.¡± Kitanda didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°As the Raven, I cannot let a child go by unhealed.¡± ¡°Then heal me and let me go.¡± The Raven once again turned to look at the lake. ¡°But what would they think if I did that? They would surely be angry. I can only do that if you suffer hardships equal to what you stand to gain.¡± He put his hand on his chin, on a thinking position that looked almost comical on a bird. ¡°Here¡¯s what I propose. If you can make it back to your village alive, I will heal you. How does that sound?¡± Kitanda looked horrified for a second. He would have to drag himself back all the distance the Raven had flown him as well as the length of six days of continuous travel with his father. It was impossible. But his other option was to stay here forever and never see his father again. He was about to comment on the difficulty of the task, but looked at the fishes in the water swimming without purpose and shut his mouth. ¡°I will do it.¡± The Journey Back 1 Kitanda wanted to get going as soon as possible, but he wasn¡¯t stupid. He stayed the night¡ªeven if the image of the bird-headed giant wasn¡¯t a very comforting thought to go to bed with. At the break of dawn, his eyes slammed open. Understandably, he hadn¡¯t been at peace during the night even though the dense grass was a much softer bed than he¡¯d had in a while. He attempted to sneak¡ªshuffle¡ªaway without drawing attention to himself. Like most birds, the Raven slept with one eye open. It just so happened to be the one pointing in his direction. As he was about to clear the rim of the garden, the Raven¡¯s voice made him jump. ¡°Leaving so soon?¡± He had forgotten quite how dissonant his voice was in his sleep. ¡°I have to get back. Don¡¯t try to stop me.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t. But I¡¯d hate to see you die, see. Most people have a very misinformed view of me: as much as I kidnap children, I don¡¯t want them hurt. Why would I heal them in the first place, right?¡± After not obtaining approval, he carried on. ¡°Anyways, if the journey gets too hard, just jump in the water. I¡¯ll make sure to come help.¡± He gestured towards the fish in the pond. His idea of help seemed to not be very conventional. ¡°I won¡¯t. Thank you for healing me.¡± He dragged himself away. * * * His initial drive actually lasted him a lot more than he thought. He only stopped when the sun beamed down from the highest point in its trajectory, and not because he was tired, but because he was hungry. He looked around, but the plains were barren. Grass and occasional trees littered the landscape, but there was little that seemed edible. He reached down to the river and drank some water. He usually wouldn¡¯t drink water straight from a river, but he knew where this one originated. There probably wasn¡¯t cleaner water around for miles. He was still hungry, but he resolved to drink some more until he drowned the growling of his stomach. Sitting up, he looked at himself. His hands were scratched and bloodied. They had started hurting after only about five minutes from departure. However, he had powered through the pain until he had learned to ignore it. Now, they were a mess of dried blood and mud. He could barely see the skin. His legs, however, were in an even worse state. He had been dragging them behind him for hours, and somewhere along the way they had started to accumulate injuries that didn¡¯t look very good. The tears and scratches didn¡¯t seem life-threatening, but there was a long gash down his right leg that, by the looks of it, had bled profusely until recently. Maybe that was why he was so hungry. He had to find a solution to that problem. Not being able to feel his legs was not only a disadvantage in that he couldn¡¯t use them, but also because he couldn¡¯t sense what happened to them. Looking at the riverbed, he didn¡¯t find the piece of driftwood he was hoping to find. Instead, canes half as tall as a man densely populated the bank. He tried ripping them out, but they were surprisingly stable¡ªthat, and his hands were too damaged to grip anything with the necessary strength. He grabbed a somewhat large pebble and got to hitting the base with it. It wasn¡¯t terribly sharp, so it didn¡¯t do a great job; his hands, however, were grateful for the smooth rock.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. After a few hours, he had gotten enough canes to get to work. The leaves were very fibrous, so he split them apart into thin strips and braided them into somewhat decent rope. He wasn¡¯t used to the process, so it took him a few tries to make something workable. With the canes and the makeshift rope, he managed to make himself a stretcher of sorts. It didn¡¯t look too comfortable, but at least that way his legs wouldn¡¯t be in direct contact with the ground. Plus, it¡¯s not like he could feel it anyway. The stretcher reached just shy of his waist, and that¡¯s where he tied it with some extra rope. When he was done, the sun was already turning the skies orange. He felt hungry once again. All he had eaten that day was water, and that didn¡¯t even count towards eating, he was pretty sure. He took the last remaining cane and looked out at the water. There was nothing that he could see, and the dimming light did not help things. However, he stood still. He had nothing better to do until sunset and moving would be an energy expense. When the sun was finally dying on the horizon, he saw it. A fish¡ªwell, a ripple. But there was no wind, so it had to be something in the water that caused it. It was much too dark to see anything anymore, but he risked a thrust. Water went everywhere, and he himself almost fell in, but he regained balance at the last second. He reached out to recover his cane and see the spoils. A crab. Not even a big one, as well. When alive it must¡¯ve been around half the size of his palm. The cane had gone through the thing, blasting a hole in its right side and taking with it most of the meat. He didn¡¯t have the energy to be disappointed. In fact, it was so in line with everything that was happening to him lately that he was more angry at himself for being hopeful than at the crab. He looked around¡ªmaybe he could engineer a fire? There was nothing there but wet rocks and wet canes. Kitanda laid down defeated and cracked open his dinner. His meal was done with one bite, although he had tried to make it last as much as he could. Kitanda thanked Chakula, as was proper. In his heart, however, he thought it would be great if Chakula wasn¡¯t so stingy next time. When night came, he hid under a dense patch of cane and slept thinking of what would come. Kitanda woke up with a start. There was some rustling in the canes near him. Under regular circumstances, he would¡¯ve noticed it before it got so close, but he had slept very intermittently that night. He had been kept awake by hunger and ended up crashing in the early morning. Kitanda didn¡¯t move too quickly: whatever that thing was, in the best-case scenario it would be breakfast. Worst-case, he would be. And a famished thirteen-year-old cripple probably wasn¡¯t too high up the food chain. Not being noticed would play to his advantage regardless. He finished turning his head just in time to see it. It was a bird, but none he had ever seen before. The thing was about as big as a basket, with long legs and an even longer neck. It had a slim beak that ended on a point. It was staring right at him, too. Kitanda decided it was breakfast. Risking a peck in the eye, he launched his hand and reached for its neck. The feathery thing, however, reacted quickly and backed away. Instead of the neck, Kitanda¡¯s hand found purchase on its leg. He grabbed tightly, and the avian foe immediately turned into a mess of feathers that pecked and kicked. Closing his eyes to protect them from the beast¡¯s sharp appendages, he reached for something with his right hand. Eventually, he grabbed onto a heavy, round rock and swung it blindly over his head, attempting to hit the flailing bird. He missed. And missed again. And again. With his eyes closed, trying to hit a head that was as big as a fist and moving at least twice as fast as he wasn¡¯t easy. Instead of keeping at it and risking even more injuries, he changed target. If the head was too small, aim for the body. He hit his foe on the chest with the rock and felt the characteristic thump of a solid object meeting flesh. However, one hit wasn¡¯t enough. The bird was certainly hurt, but that seemed to only have spurred it on instead of deflating it. Kitanda hit it again, the rock landing squarely on the chest this time. He heard a crunch and the bird went limp. It still moved, but it was mostly twitching. One eye open, he observed without letting the leg go. It didn¡¯t seem like it, but the animal might be playing dead. You never know with wild things. Kitanda watched it struggle until it finally died. He had tried to build up the courage to finish it off, but he couldn¡¯t. Hitting an enemy that wasn''t fighting back was completely different. At least today was looking better, even if it had a bit of a rough start. He started plucking the bird while inwardly thanking Chakula. The goddess of meals had heard him yesterday, apparently. The places where the bird had attacked him hurt, but he found the pain invigorating. Things were looking up for the first time in a while.