Cheep!?

Chapter 5

The dull beat of his own heart was the first thing that Charles became aware of in the darkness. A cloying, sickly sweet scent invading his nostrils came next, followed by a wave of revulsion that threatened to instantly return the weakened bird to unconsciousness.

‘Oh, oh feathering peck, that’s awful,’ Mental cognizance returned in the wake of the scent, and reflexively he tried to pull himself away. Only, he realized that he couldn’t easily move thanks to whatever was around him. He pushed and tried to writhe before realizing that something was flexing with his efforts. Panic quickly began to set in as he struggled, breath racing as he kicked and squirmed for freedom. Dull aches and the creaking of his bones greeted him, as though he hadn’t moved in some time, though that information went well away as Charles did his best to wrestle his panic back under control.

With the lack of progress amidst his flailing, Charles began to steady himself with deep breaths in spite of the overpowering odor around him. He could tell that he’d earned more room to maneuver with his movements, but still didn’t know exactly what he was buried in.

‘What the hell is happening? Why am I here, not the nest? What is-’ He stopped midthought as recollection surged within him, the fight with the snake, the rampant agony that had wracked his mind into unconsciousness, and the ultimate realization that he was going to die whilst having taken the snake with him.

‘I’m not dead?’ Relief rushed through him, in spite of the situation he found himself in. ‘Alright, then… oh feathering peck. So, I guess I’m partly dug in the damned snake.’ He thought to himself, a fresh wave of disgust rolling through him. This time, the thrashing was entirely voluntary, his head pressed on all sides in what he realized was ribcage, albeit bent and broken already. Slowly he managed to fit his feet under him, a feat he found much harder than he figured it should have been. Long talons raked across something meaty beneath them, puncturing scales even as he strained to lift himself.

With a heave, the first surge of motion broke some bones that were above his head. After briefly confirming that they were indeed not his bones, he recollected himself for another push. 

Charles moved his wings, feeling a great deal more strength in them and, more remarkably, that his broken wing appeared to have made a full recovery.

That realization happened contemporaneously with the sudden realization that his movements were far stronger than they’d felt previously. And, while he couldn’t be sure, it almost seemed like there was just more there than before. The strangeness of it compelled him to push harder with the need to see the changes himself. He pressed with his wings, surprised when he realized that he was cutting into the meat of the snake as he did so. 

With considerable might, Charles felt the meat around him tear with a sickening, almost sucking noise, the snake rupturing as he rose to his full hei-

And then recoiled as he smacked his head hard into something above him that didn’t give in the slightest.

‘Ow, that smarts,’ He hissed to himself, leaning back down. The pain was quickly forgotten, though, as a rush of fresh air filled his lungs, full of vibrancy in a way that he greedily appreciated after the awfulness he’d just been encased in.

That moment was ruined with the disgusting, slopping sound of viscera falling off of his body. Charles cringed, looking down on the corpse of the snake that he’d very much just torn his way upwards through. It was clear that he’d somehow managed to push himself much deeper into the snakes innards, given how much of him was now drenched in gore. More than that, the snake now seemed… smaller…

‘What the feather?’ Charles’ brain slowed with the realization that he was now much larger than he’d been previously. Whereas before, his head could easily fit into the guts of the snake, he now knew that such a feat was only possible after breaking the snake's ribs forcefully. Mastering himself, Charles picked his way over the snake's body, realizing his legs were much longer, more robust, and the talons he had on his feet were far more wicked in appearance than what he’d had before. Even compared to Mother and Father, he thought they looked different, more for tearing and rending than simply hooking into prey. 

He turned, moving away a few steps before nearly staggering over, weakness rising rapidly in his limbs. For a few seconds he wasn’t sure what was going on, before he realized that the strange lightheadedness he was experiencing was accompanied with something akin to dehydration. Already he was stumbling closer towards the direction of the creek he’d passed, and within a minute had returned to it. Nothing else appeared to be around, though he didn’t know how long that might last. A bird on the ground was a much easier target than one in the air, obviously, and Charles knew he had to be wary of any predators around him. Even so, his vigilance ended the moment he saw the water, any consideration of caution flew out the window as he dunked his head into the stream.

Only at the last second did his human mind take hold to force himself to take much smaller quantities of water at a time. He was vaguely aware that one shouldn’t engorge on water after dehydrating for too long - or was that starvation?

Even so, he certainly didn’t want any risk, after having fought off what should have been certain death, of ruining himself by just drinking water…

‘So cold, but so good!’ Charles internally cheered as he kept his beak under the calm waters, light dancing across the surface of the water through the cracks in the canopy far above. 

Only when he’d satiated himself enough with a bit of water did he once more take stock of his surroundings. As before, there didn’t seem to be any kind of creatures around, though he could hear bird calls from inferior species - ‘Okay, what the peck? Where did that come from?’ He shook his head helplessly, continuing his examination with the ground level, utterly devoid of any obvious sign of a larger creature. Though, he did notice with his acute vision the occasional furry critter, a squirrel - or something like it - quickly racing across the boughs of trees, foragers and smaller insects buzzing about. The forest was alive with activity, with life, and for a moment Charles didn’t look for threats, merely content with basking in the radiance of it all.

He lived. The thought raced through his mind again and again, that he’d lived through his fight.

But, there were other things that needed to be taken care of, now. Charles took a moment to steady himself once more, grounding his thoughts in preparation for whatever he might see. Then, carefully, he leaned forward towards the water to see his own reflection in the shallows more clearly. 

‘Okay… uh… what?’ He blinked rapidly, seeing only his own head so far, but very rapidly realized that he looked much different from what a hawk should look like. Instead of a sharp curved beak like that of most raptor species, his own beak now protruded farther, the hook less pronounced. But the beak itself, he could tell, was ridiculously sharp, with a ridge not unlike the curved point of a sword..

He opened his mouth, and to his mild terror could see sharp teeth on the inner portion of his beak. In surprise, he snapped his beak closed, feeling the force of the blow. 

‘Don’t freak out, don’t freak out. We already knew this world wasn’t normal. There are gods, probably magic, weird hoodoo snakes, this is fine,’ he carefully brought his breathing back in line, feeling his teeth with his tongue - which, as he just realized, appeared to be rough and covered with small sandpaper-like protrusions.

For the next minute he repeated his mantra of not freaking out, trying to carefully not think about his mouth being a meat-grinder now. When he finally worked through it, he did also realize that he smelled awful. Not merely like blood, but like old, fetid blood that brought with it the sickly sweet stench that came with the beginning of decay. Charles stepped into the shallow water, his much longer, robust legs no longer finding any real difficulty at all in moving across the ground. Had he legs like this against the snake, he doubted he’d have had any problem at all with simply running away. 

Charles looked down at his feathers, noting how they were now a pattern of deep bloody red and a very  eye-catching sapphire blue, accented by obsidian black feathers. He admired his reflection, flexing this way and that, demonstrating his body to himself, and admittedly feeling no small sense of revelry in his exhibitionism. 

To which he quickly rallied himself out of embarrassment, in spite of suspecting that no one was around to see him.

‘Alright, I’ve got raptor eyes still, so that’s a check.’ He began his mental overview, ‘My wings are broad, but I feel very heavy, so I’m not sure I can fly anywhere. Feathers seem to be really pecking hard though,sharp even, so that’s kinda strange. I’ve got… holy peck, I have fingers now?’ Excitedly Charles flexed the trio of fingers at the end of his wings, just before his primary feathers extended outwards. Two of the fingers on either side were clearly more for grasping and slashing given the talons on them, but the third was the closest thing to a thumb he’d probably ever seen on a bird. Even so, it wasn’t… the most flexible thing in the world. He managed to pick up a stick after concentrating greatly, but the grip was hardly something he’d be comfortable with using to hold, say, a weapon. But, for the purpose of latching onto prey, he imagined it’d be just fine.

Which then briefly resulted in the realization, once more, that he would have to hunt prey and kill it himself.

‘Thoughts for later,’ he pulled his attention away, noting that his body was much more like a ground-based, bipedal bird now than anything else. Clearly, he was designed to be running on the forest floor, not unlike the Killer Birds of ancient Earth.

Which, in a way, filled him with unending disappointment.

“I really wanted to fly…” He said aloud, before shaking his head. Perhaps he could mourn the loss later, and maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t done growing yet. Already he could tell that he was at least a meter tall, and judging by the fact that his head still seemed much too large for the rest of his body, he hoped that perhaps he would grow into his wings more, maybe get even luckier than he had already.

Charles cleared his mind of those thoughts as he cast a glance over his shoulder to where the snake was, past the underbrush and trees. For an instant he fought with himself over what he needed to do.

But, ultimately, he knew that getting this part over with would be for the best.

The now significantly larger bird loomed over the thick snake, still finding it ridiculous that he’d managed to threaten the thing. As a chick, he was a third the size he was now - admittedly a really big bird already - but the snake was some kind of python. It’s greatest strength was its mass and muscle, yet somehow he’d managed to kill it.

He could smell some parts of the snake were turning, no longer what he could guarantee as strictly palatable. But, he didn’t know where he’d get his next meal from, so he figured that he’d harvest what he could. In the first place, it wasn’t as if he’d been eating off of a silver plate until now. And besides, it seemed only fair, after all, that he’d eat the thing that had tried to eat him.

‘Nope, that doesn’t help at all,’ he sighed, not able to really work himself up to be happy about this task. Even so, he began to cut into the meat, the first chunk of which he swallowed while doing his best not to taste it.

Still, his eyes widened slightly at what he could taste. Blinking, he tentatively took another bite, this time savoring it slightly more.

‘This might be wrong of me to say, but… it tastes like chicken. Really delicious chicken.’ Charles slowly gnawed through another bit of the snake, losing himself to thought and consideration. 

The events of the battle returned to him, the fact that he was mobile now was incredibly suspect. He shouldn’t have been able to move his left wing. Arguably he shouldn’t even have that wing any more with all the damage that had been done to it. Yet, somehow, he was better than ever, aside from the hugely abundant aches and pains, no doubt from bruising, all across his body. The simple fact that he wasn’t a hawk anymore was also far and away from what he’d thought was possible.

He highly doubted that he hadn’t actually been a hawk previously, his growth and body type had been far too similar to his siblings and parents. When he eliminated that possibility, though, only the more bizarre and outlandish remained.

And so he began to pour through the possibilities there.

‘Magic? Magic.’ He nodded to himself, unable to really come up with another reason, ‘Perhaps some form of very energetic evolution? The real question is if this is normal, or limited only to me? Alterra did grant me some of her blessing, after all.’ More of the snake was consumed as he continued thinking, ‘Was this because I hit some kind of age threshold? No, that would be far too convenient timing. While I’m no stranger to coincidence, I think that this is something… else.’ He paused, remembering a few more particular moments of the fight before.

The snake had launched itself bodily through the air, each time sending firecrackers of energy racing up his spine. At the time, he’d discounted it to sheer instinct, but it seemed too hollow an explanation. There was something supernatural about that, and especially so as he slew the snake. More of that energy fired up his spine, only different, more potent, almost as though he’d been given the biggest dose of morphine in his life. Only, not dying this tim-

That thought hit a brick wall instantly as he pulled towards more constructive things. Clearly, there was some kind of phenomena there, maybe some kind of energy? The other issue being that he didn’t know why he didn’t just become an adult hawk? Or at least a juvenile, it seemed to be even more unusual that he’d somehow made a leap to another fucking species.

He took a deep breath and rose, looking down with shock at the even more ravaged corpse-turned-mostly-skeleton. He’d somehow eaten a lot more than he thought he could have, and even still only just barely felt satisfied. Charles felt good, though, strangely so, and when he focused on his stomach, he made another discovery.

That buzzing energy he’d felt was present, leaking from his stomach and reaching into the rest of his body, racing up his spine. Though, it was duller compared to what he’d felt before, smaller in quantity or purity, perhaps. He couldn’t know for sure, but it made him feel a lot better, his aches and pains ebbing as it radiated warmth throughout his body. 

Steadily, he made his way back to the creek, resolving to attempt to clean himself. For the most part, he was awful at it, but gradually his instincts began to guide him. Preening, after all, wasn’t something he was used to in this body.

“Alright, let's get home.” He declared his goal aloud, crossing the creek easily and beginning the long walk back. Charles stopped along the way, lowering his head towards the ground and doing his best to smell out the path they’d taken. Shockingly, the process came naturally, and he was much better at it than he’d hoped. By now, the scent trail was nearly gone, but he could smell his and the snake's blood on this path. Even beyond that, he was surprised with the sheer volume that he could detect. Other beasts, the smell of water, the rich earth, all of these and more painted a tapestry in his mind. And, while he did want to go back to his nest, he felt excited at the prospect that there were other places he wanted to explore. For the first time since he’d come to this world, he could wander, see exactly what the world had to offer.

But, that could come later, his immediate goal took precedence. Like this, he managed to find his way back to the nest, though he did accidentally follow one or another scent trail every now and then. It was surprisingly difficult to follow this trail, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d bled all over it, he doubted he could have tracked it back.

Which brought up the other question he’d had on his mind; how long had he really been unconscious?

Certainly, there had to have been some kind of magically accelerated growth to become what he was now, which would explain why his wing was fixed too. Otherwise he would have likely died of dehydration long before his transformation was complete. But, he couldn’t make any assumptions on how long that would have been.

As such, when the trail stopped at a familiar clearing, Charles felt nothing but trepidation at his destination. He looked around, the familiar sight of the trees looking somewhat alien from so far down below. Above him, he could see the broad nest, something he knew had been large, but from so far below it was clear that it could even probably fit a person in it with room to spare. 

Yet, he felt no happiness from the sight, because above it, it was clear that nothing remained in the nest. No sound greeted him, and even in the clearing all of the life that had been abundant seemed conspicuously absent.

“Mother, Father! Siblings!” Charles called out. To a human the sound was more a blend between clicking and a somehow harmonic cry. He called out again, to no reply, only to change tact, “Gabby! Yak!... Owl!?” Charles felt his heartbeat tighten as he continued, “Pecky! Talon?... Anyone?” His cries weakened, and suddenly the meter tall bird of prey found itself sitting on the ground, legs too weak to do anything else. 

Because above all, Charles realized one painful truth, more important than his survival, more important than the conditions of his recent metamorphosis. 

He was alone again. Alone in a world he knew nothing of.

The forest rang out with the pained cries of a killer bird. Any creature that heard the sound sheltered in place or fled outright, the keen wailing something more terrifying to them than any predator they knew.