There were some things that seemed simple and straightforward on the surface, but were anything but in practice. Writing a report was simply the act of recording what had happened with words in such a way as to illustrate a point, but it was easy to make something that didn’t capture one’s attention or meandered too much. Cooking, certainly, fell into this category as well since ‘cooked’ didn’t necessarily mean ‘good’ either. More examples abounded in the head of the bladebeak as it crashed once more into a tree, sprawling backwards with a disenchanted look on its face. He was currently undergoing a task that, on paper, was very easy to say and talk about, but much harder to pull off in practice, and was rapidly becoming the bane of his existence.

“It’s really pecking hard to hunt.” Charles pretended that the scurrying, fist sized rodent that he’d been chasing after wasn’t looking at him now. Especially, he didn’t hear the mad chittering that sounded like rolling laughter from the creature. Even if he did hear it, it wasn’t special, considering this was perhaps the fifteenth of such examples in the past two days.

Which meant Charles was getting hungry. Ravenous, in fact.

“Well,” he groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, the gesture sending the rodent scurrying away immediately, “That didn’t work out, either.” As much as he hoped that he could ambush something, his feathers simply didn’t support hiding out here. The red, at least, could blend somewhat into the reddish bark that covered the trees all around. However, the abundant sapphire colored feathers entirely devastated any thought of ambush if he wasn’t utterly obscured in foliage. That ambush tactic was one that he was working on, but he doubted that he’d have it perfected in any reasonable amount of time. No, instead, he was working on another maneuver, one he called ‘run the furry bastard down and murder it dead,’ or ‘Rundown’ for short.

But he was failing miserably, and begrudgingly he had to admit that it wasn’t because of his body's shortcomings, but more in line with his own failings to control it. It was something he’d gradually become aware of as he made attempt after attempt, that he would try to run and reach and move as though he were still human. It was difficult to erase decades of learned movement as a human and pick up an entirely different style of moving than before. The shocking thing was that walking around and casual movement was easy; the motion flowed like water over a smooth riverbed, never a moment of hesitation or doubt. Yet, the moment he consciously moved, trying to pursue prey, it all fell apart faster than he could say ‘bull in a china shop’.

Charles picked his way through the underbrush, carefully placing his feet as he moved to reduce the amount of noise he made. After some practice with this, he’d found that he was actually remarkably good at it, memorizing the area around him and prowling through the underbrush like a proper forest predator. This was the only reason he had any confidence at all in even making a proper attempt to catch something.

As he went, he could feel the subtle pull of his instincts, telling him how to move, how his posture was too high. Steadily, he learned from these thoughts, and tested them, one by one, to ensure that they made sense. It was barely a whisper, hard to really hear if he wasn’t concentrating on listening, but if he hadn’t had that assistance he doubted he’d have been able to learn so quickly. Even in spite of that, he made mistakes, and every time he cracked a small twig underfoot, he froze, instincts surging ever so slightly in what felt like admonishment of his mistake.

‘Be nice if you could help with hunting, too,’ Charles thought dryly as he settled back into a routine, sniffing close to the ground and listening carefully for anything in his environment that might clue him in to prey. He felt his stomach rumble at the thought, and not for the first time since his reincarnation, he missed the human conveniences that he’d taken for granted. A trip to the grocery store would be very nice right now. He smirked at the thought of a bladebeak trying to push a basket with its mouth while shopping.

The distraction faded as he began to pick up on another scent. The forest was positively brimming with life, but the real problem was getting to it. Before this, he hadn’t ranged far from his nest in the attempt to hunt around the creek. Any time he saw a critter there, though, they could also see him coming and escaped into the much denser foliage around the water banks. While he could survive for a while without food, it was rapidly taking a toll on his mood, and sapped his motivation. His growing body most definitely required more food, and while he’d picked over what was left of the snake, there just wasn’t anything left of it. It’d been completely picked clean, and even half of the bones were gone.

And so, he lowered himself to the ground as he snuck forward, smelling the trail and guessing that it seemed denser. That usually meant fresher, and as he prowled low to the ground, he could see the creature ahead in a small clearing.

The rodent was larger than the last one, as big around as a softball and as long as a football. It was huge to Charles, given that he was only just over a meter tall himself. This would feed him for at least two or three days if he had to guess.

‘Alright, nice and easy this time…’ Charles forced himself to keep calm, his pulse rising as his instincts purred in the back of his mind. The mistake would be to charge out too soon, given that he wasn’t fast enough to run it down just yet. If it escaped into the smaller root systems around, then he wouldn’t have any chance of capturing it. It didn’t even notice him yet, given how it was busy stuffing its face with scattered nuts that had fallen to the forest floor. Charles one advantage, even in spite of his decidedly non-forest colored feathers, was that he could blend into shadows fairly well.

He moved carefully, eyes still locked on the critter before him, his mind already holding a mental map of the ground he treaded over. Charles almost didn’t need to glance around to confirm where to put his feet, having grown much more familiar with his body's dimensions as he’d practiced.

The bladebeak was nearly sticking out of the edge of the clearing when he accepted that he couldn’t get any closer. With no cover it’d be easy to pick him out, and beyond that, he doubted that he was stealthy enough yet to get closer than he already was. Charles’ tensed his body for just a moment before exploding forward, focusing wholly on the rodent in front of him.

‘This time!’ He told himself as the world came into sharp focus, his blood rushing as he approached, ‘This time, you’re mine!’

The rodent noticed as he shot forward and instantly pivoted away to flee. This time, though, Charles felt the gap between them shrink away, and before the rat could get more than a bounding leap away, it found itself pinned to the ground.

In spite of how much Charles had thought of this moment, his brain froze at the realization that he’d actually caught it. He’d automatically smacked down on it with his foot, holding it in place with talons that dug into flesh.

‘I-I did it! Holy feathering peck! I actually di-’

Charles’ thoughts derailed as the rodent started to scream, thrashing back and forth desperately, doing its best to try to worm out of his grasp. Reflexively, Charles almost recoiled, suddenly aghast at what he was doing to this thing. The only thing that kept him from doing it was the insistence of his instincts in the background, just strong enough to keep his foot there. Even so, he realized that he really didn’t want to kill the thing, he didn’t want to hurt it. It was just a living thing, just like him, having been going about its day before he’d gotten here.

Conflicted, he stared down at the rodent, unwilling to strike the final blow. Charles knew that he was almost entirely carnivorous, but he suspected that, perhaps, he could also survive off of nuts and tubers. Maybe berries, though he didn’t dare randomly consume them.

Amidst those thoughts came the knowledge that he was being naive. Of course, he could possibly survive off of those things for a while, but he was most certainly a carnivore. A growing one at that, and every meal now would count towards his health in the future. Beyond simply being healthy, he also had to think of his deal with Alterra. How was he going to help her if he was unwilling to even feed himself? Would his future targets kindly off themselves instead of forcing him to do the duty? Certainly not.

‘It’s not personal,’ He thought to himself and to the creature clasped in his rending talons, ‘I… I was just faster than you today. I guess that’s life.’ Charles’ tried to console both himself and the rodent. Above all, he knew that the animal kingdom didn’t share his human sensibilities about life, something that he doubted he’d fully get used to anytime soon. In nature, the strong ate the weak, and as much as he disdained that line of thinking in humans, animals didn’t really have the luxury of alternative options. It was simply about survival, and while that certainly didn’t make him happy, Charles slowly resolved himself to the fact that he would need to get used to doing what must be done, regardless of how it made him feel.

“If it means anything, I’m sor-”

A hot rush of energy crackled up Charles’ spine then, familiar in a distant way to the snake and how it shot itself towards him. Reflexively, Charles leapt backwards, feeling that direction to be, hopefully, safest. An instant later a large form, bigger than himself, struck the space he’d just been standing in. The loud snap of jaws resounded, and Charles watched as his rodent quarry was snapped up remorselessly in teeth that severed clean through bone.

The white-grey furred creature, squat and on all fours, was bigger by almost half a meter than him. It was shorter than him, but he could easily tell that it would be heavier. Tough, stiff claws tipped its paws, the rest of its body badger-like, somehow also being wider than he figured it should be.

All of that information sank into his subconscious as his instincts roared into overdrive.

“You featherless bastard!” Charles cried out, feeling a surge of outrage chasing out any wariness he had as he shrieked at the thing, “That was mine!”

It looked up, confused for a moment, as though it expected that I’d have run away instantly. Contrary to what Charles expected, the thing only snorted contemptuously, barely seeming to pay any attention to him as it moved to pick up the severed half of the rodent with its jaws.

Something snapped in the bladebeak’s mind then, and before he knew what he was doing, he’d charged the creature, jabbing down hard with his beak on the things head. The badger was too surprised to dodge, and the satisfying chop was on course to cut the bastard's skull wide open.

‘I’m eating good tonight.’ Charles thought wrathfully, just as he began to feel that hot buzz down his spine once more. It wouldn’t matter this time, there was no way it could dodge the strike that was coming down directly on its he-

He connected just as what looked to be a dull sheen rose from the badger's fur. Charles felt his beak hit, but instead of flesh, it felt more like he’d just battered his skull into an iron helmet.

“Feathering peck!” He cried out with a shrill screech, recoiling in shock at the strike. The badger certainly wasn’t unaffected, but he wasn’t bleeding. If anything, it seemed a little dazed, but that blow should have cut the things head straight through with how hard he’d struck. “Do you have armor? What the heck!”

Charles felt the buzz along his spine and instinctively stepped backwards from the wild strike of the badger's claws. They missed by a few centimeters, Charles glad that he was at least faster than the thing. Satisfied that he’d dodged back in time, Charles was about to rush forward for another strike when he realized that his chest hurt, and warmth flowed down across his feathers. Stunned, Charles looked down as the badger continued to reel, concussed as it was.

There, somehow, he bore a decidedly claw-inflicted wound that had cut through his sturdy feathers, straight into the flesh below. Pain blossomed like a corona from the injury, and he could tell it was a few centimeters deep.

“How!?” Charles screamed out in panic, completely abandoning his plan to mount a counter strike, “What in the actual fuck!?”

The badger shook its head, blearily focused on Charles as it took a step forward, ready to do battle with a worthy foe.

Only to realize that the bladebeak was nowhere to be seen.

Charles, on the other hand, was sprinting at a breakneck pace over old ground, using his remarkable memory of the terrain to ensure that he could blitz over every root, under every low hanging branch, jump through every thimble brush, in order to make following him as difficult as possible. After sprinting like this for almost five minutes, zig zagging in seemingly random directions at times, Charles finally slowed with blood still dripping from his fresh wounds. His mind raced, the realization that if the wound was any deeper he’d have a hole in his chest only enhancing his panic.

He pushed away all of his thoughts for now, spending the next few minutes just getting home while trying to keep the blood from being too obvious to follow.

The moment he entered the middle of his clearing, he felt the calming effects and healing begin to work on his mind. Yet, this time, calmness was not so easily obtained.

“Why,” he uttered aloud, “Why did I do that just now? And what the feathering hell was that?” He questioned the air, wondering at why he’d damn near lost his mind and attacked something not only bigger than him but also clearly more badger than him. If nothing else, earth-logic told him ‘Don’t mess with badgers’. More than that, over a feathering rat that he could find anywhere. More than that, though, was the realization that his instincts absolutely raged right now, demanding blood, demanding a fight.

Charles’ human mind was appalled with how those insidious thoughts had utterly overridden his good sense. Or was it good sense? Should he have committed? The badger certainly didn’t look like it was doing well after that first strike, and had flailed wildly on the counter attack.

But, then, he’d fled, because of that strange feeling that raced up his spine, multiple times. It was clear that something was happening with the creatures of this world, letting them do things outside of what Charles could even remotely consider natural. First the constrictor that could literally throw itself forward like a spear. Now, the badger with the iron-fur and the somehow extended reach of its claws, let alone what was also probably a similar thing with its jaws if he’d had to guess from the first warning his body gave him.

The bladebeak took a deep breath, ignoring the slowing blood flow from the wound on his chest. Lightheadedness had crept up on him, due in no small part to the lack of food, the bloodloss, and the heightened exercise he’d just put himself through. Even with that, he forced himself to calm further.

‘Breathe in…’ he began, pushing himself into a meditative state, ‘Breathe out… repeat.’

He cycled his breathing like this for several minutes, carefully examining himself as he did so. The bladebeak’s instincts continued to surge, but carefully Charles ministered his human touch to them, trying to see what was going on. They were still active, and as he brushed against them again and again, he felt them coming closer. Or, more accurately, that they were suppressed less and less the more he engaged them.

In a way, that might not be a good thing, but he needed to know more about them, and they weren’t going to be going away. Charles suspected that eventually they would push themselves to the forefront if he continued to keep them repressed. They’d proven themselves useful already, albeit also risky.

So, instead of leaving them as an unknown, he began to work through them. If there was anything that Charles had plenty of experience with, it was introspection. Spending days upon days bedridden with no one to really talk to had more than encouraged the skill. Even if it meant nothing to anyone else, Charles refused to believe that he couldn’t be the master of his own mind, at least.

And, as he began to parse apart those instincts, he could almost feel them consolidate into his human mind. There would always be places where there would be some conflict, Charles knew, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t try to know where those problems might crop up. It was a fact, after all, that he would need the refined instincts of a predator if his experience in sneaking around had told him anything.

But, he ran into some problems. In the first place, he wasn’t human any longer, and his body played a much larger role in his mind than his previous life did now. For every piece of his instincts that he tried to consolidate, another one converted part of his human mind. It was less about suppression, he realized, and more about finally settling the connection. He wavered, though, afraid once more of what might change in himself if he accepted his natural instincts, but this wasn’t something that he could put off forever. Given how young his body and instincts were, it might be better to catch them early, before they became overwhelming.

With that hope and reasoning in mind, he carried on his self-engineering, all while thinking about the events earlier. It was straining, and no matter how good at self-management he was, there was a limit on what he could mentally handle. Nevertheless, he felt like an invisible wall had finally come down between him and the surface of his instincts, and thankfully he didn’t feel anything untowardly different just yet.

Charles’ slowed and stopped his efforts after that, satisfied that the rest would happen naturally. No matter what happened, he knew that the core of his being was still heavily influenced by his experiences as a human. He swore to himself to never forget that fact, no matter how far his path might take him from who he was.

For a few seconds, Charles considered trying to parse apart what that strange feeling of energy had been, but unsurprisingly he found himself far too mentally exhausted from his efforts.On top of that, he realized that the sun had once more set, casting the forest in darkness. He clucked in surprise at how much time had passed, but had to admit that he was perfectly happy with going to sleep right then. Cautiously, he eyed his chest, finding the wound had stopped bleeding, and was now scabbed over, hopefully not infected.

Resolutely, Charles thought to himself ‘Tomorrow will be different.’ Tomorrow he would carve out his own little place in this world.

With those thoughts in mind, Charles drifted off to sleep's warm embrace.