The Beak Sleep

Feels like weeks I’ve been stuck in this hole, gods am I parched, I haven’t been dry this long since, well, my entire memory. I alternate between fitful naps in the dirt and a crystal-clear focus on every scrap of sound that makes its way through my rotting prison walls, desperate for a hint of what’s happening outside. I can’t tell if it’s day or night when I’m suddenly awoken, the distinctive sound of Common like music to my ears, even when I can tell who it’s from: the dame that set me up is back. “What do you want? Why do you keep sending dying animals into town?” I hear, I guess she got the message the tree was shouting about before I got thrown in here.
“Shiiiiinnyyyyy”. I really wish that tree could grow a new vocabulary.
There’s a moment of silence that my mind fills with hand gestures and an annoyed smirk.
“You can’t have that. It’s a holy relic of Hel.”
“Hellllllllll? Mmmyyyy Shiiiinnnyyy!”
A few more moments of quiet, I can hear rustling nearby too, sounds like someone has backup at the ready.
“You want.. oh great. Really? Now I need to preach to the thing?” Her tone is probably lost on both the tree-thing and the deaf girl.
“Screw it, I’m just going to kill it. BOYS!” A sudden shout and the quiet rustle near my confines becomes the sound of action. I hear fighting outside, and make ready to jump on any opportunity that fortune throws my way. There’s a heavy crash against the side of the tree followed by the scraping of vines and branches against armor, but my eye has already been drawn to the tiny sliver of light showing through the now-askance door blocking my path to freedom. It’s not quite big enough for me to squeeze through but I wedge myself with my back against the wall and my claws pushing against the door, thinking it can’t help to help good fortune find me. Another loud thud and the door shifts, maybe I’m going to make it out after all. I take a peek outside to see the talkative one gutting an oozy panther while the deaf one is fending off a questing tree branch and twisting her hands into some spellcasting gestures. I make a break for it, forcing my way through the hole and taking to the air like a fish to water. Looking over my shoulder I see a human and an elf I don’t recognise grappling with assorted rotting plants and animals. As I make it to the treeline I hear a shout, cut short as the whole area falls into unnatural silence.

The early morning sunlight feels good on my feathers as I shoot the breeze over the forest, entertaining myself with thoughts of the mutually assured destruction I hope I left behind. If a tree howls in the forest and no one can hear it, did it really die? There’s a clearing up ahead, and wouldn’t you know it I see the dizzy druid resting against a tree, talking to her critters, not a care in the world. I’m making my way down to the clearing when a thought starts bothering me, why isn’t Drusilla moving? She looks injured. I quickly flick back up into the sky as I notice the “forest critter” in front of her isn’t of the fluffy, friendly variety but the plague-carrying undead variety. I circle around, scanning the trees around the clearing, but this time Nutsy doesn’t have his squirrel army to defend him from aerial assault, nor has he noticed me yet. I reach into my beltpouch, pull out a jar of Holy Water and line up for a bombing run, hoping he doesn’t take this moment to look up. Maybe it’s the lack of whiskey in my system but what I think is a perfectly timed shot sails straight past the wretched zombie and smashes on a rock outcropping, the precious fluid running down into the puddle below, the tepid remains of an overnight shower. I pull up short and drop to the ground between him and the druid just as he turns around in confusion, too slowly. I take the chance to flex my magical hand and bodily pick the miserable creature up, pushing him towards the puddle that I inadvertently blessed. He’s screaming the leaves right off the trees as his tail touches the water,immediately puffing into flames. I need to keep concentrating or this won’t end well for me. Just when I think the vocal assault couldn’t get any louder, the partially-submerged thing kicks it up a notch or five. He struggles against the invisible force that’s pushing him down, but when it comes to force of will this bird will not be found wanting. I feel him staring at me, those dead eyes throwing hate at me, almost overwhelming me but I grit my beak and get it done. There’s nothing left but a steaming puddle, air above hazy with brown smoke and the occasional bit of fur drifting away in the soft forest breeze. Of all the death I’ve had to deal with in this line of work, this one is probably going to haunt my dreams the longest.

I’m already thinking about the sweet oblivion waiting at the bottom of my whiskey glass when I hear a noise behind me. The druid is shifting and there’s a small deer creeping out of the foliage towards her. I eyeball it, keeping a keen eye out for any sign of disease or general ill health, if this foal so much as sneezes I’m going to tear its head off. Thankfully it appears clean, putting its head under Drusilla’s questing hand, helping her rise to her feet and steady herself.
“Aah, thank you Lavitha, such a helpful darling you are.” She mutters, catching her breath.
“So what’s the story here lady? I already killed that damn squirrel once.” I’m none too happy with what’s happened to me since last I seen her.
“Ah, Matey! It appears there is some foul forces at work in my forest. Something brought back Nutsy, but in a very evil way.
“She gazes off into the distance. “I fear the corruption is spreading still…”
“Do you mean that ghastly tree monster? I think some fortuitous circumstance might have helped us here. I just escaped a band of outlaws that were attempting to destroy it.”
I’m midway through my mental quest for the silver lining when another squirrel, clean this time, comes down from the nearest tree and rests on Drusilla’s shoulder, chittering up a storm.
“Oh? Oh dear.. Oh no. That’s not good at all.” This one-sided despair starts to get on my nerves so I interject.
“What is it, Druid?” “This dear thing has brought terrible news. Those outlaws you saw appear to have made peace with this ‘Ghoultree’ and.. what?” More obnoxious chittering and just like that, I’m back in the mood to kill squirrels. “They are preaching to the tree about the Goddess Hel, the Lady of death and decay.”
“Well I guess that answers the question of what I was to do with the rest of my day…” I mutter to myself, already planning who needs to be alerted: The Orc, The Big Bird and obviously the Captain, assuming they are back by now, otherwise it’ll have to be the Ogre and the Dwarf, not that they are much use.
She snaps her focus back to me, “I fear this is even worse than I thought, you have to make haste to the -”
But I’m already in the air.
“Town, yeah, I’m on my way! We’ll be in touch!”

A bird’s work is never done and I still owe the Dwarf, who’s going to pay me now?!