The wyvern blinked as it studied Barathiel. Perhaps it never had seen a human who reacted to it behave so strangely before. For that moment, it's supernatural speed failed it.

Barathiel somehow found his good sense, and rolled away as the wyvern spit acid on the tree behind him. He rolled to the ledge with the anticipation of jumping down to the ground beneath for better cover, but he now recognized the small object below that had caught his attention before he realized Renua was choking.

It was a spike and the advocate saw there were more of them. His hesitation caused him to lose his advantage. He felt a breeze from the flapping of wings against his neck.

The next moment, he realized he should either be dead or in unbearable pain wishing he were dead. A thunking noise followed by the wyvern screaming intervened that dread moment.

Barathiel glanced up. Something distracted the wyvern. It hovered just above him. A third arrow bounced off its hide.

Barathiel had no time to thank the moment's respite. He found a second footing as he looked directly below to a place with no spikes. He lowered himself down as he held onto the stone ledge with his fingers. Once his feet dangled straight, he dropped. And ducked into the cover of the ledge.

The wyvern roared and wooshed by violently breaking the limbs above Barathiel. A great and terrible unnatural shadow spread over the watchtower.

A bow fell to the ground followed by several arrows, smacking the moss beneath the station. A feather cap trailed along in a gentle flutter down after.

With an air piercing screech, a man soon fell on top of the bow. He tried to stand up, but half of his arm was missing. He collapsed.

Barathiel took off running once more in a path lateral with the ledge. He hoped the ledge and trees on either side of him would block the wyvern's view of him. He stole a glance back only to see the dying ranger being dragged off into deeper woods by his feet.

Tree limbs rushed by him. Perhaps, the brave ranger's misfortune was his salvation. This thought caused him to pause. He bent low and turned around.

A feeling of pure venality overwhelmed him. The ranger was now dying because he attempted to save Barathiel from the very fate he now suffered.

So long as there was a whit of a chance to save the man, Barathiel owed it to him to at least try.

He ran for the bow and arrows which still appeared in decent condition from where they had dropped.

What good would they do?

The ranger surely an expert with the weapon only succeeded in angerering the beast with three shots that bounced off its hide.

Still, Barathiel found himself yelling to distract the beast from killing the ranger.

"You have your back turned to me, wyvern. I'll slash cutlets from just beneath your rib cage with my machete. Go ahead and feast and so shall I."

Barathiel doubted his own sanity. He just threatened the wyvern with a weapon he did not even possess.

The wyvern from within the thick of the woods growled, acknowledging it had unfinished business that it had unsportingly ignored. Barathiel heard a sweeping motion rise up across the branches. Then silence. It crouched on a limb attempting to find Barathiel in it's line of sight.

Barathiel crouched with his back to two large trees. He wished he brought his machete. He even built a pole to mount the blade to cut fruit and nuts down from tree limbs. That would have been very useful to have in his hand now.

The trees he faced were a tight fit for a bow, but he had to find the ranger. It was difficult to see in the thick of the woods. He nearly bumped into a large slick mossy stone.

A moan came from just above him. The wyvern had released the ranger on top of that very stone when it went off to search for Barathiel.

The advocate surveilled the branches above him but he could not spot the beast. He looked from East to West, then to the South. His heart fluttered as his eyes slowly scanned to the South. He repeated the pattern, only to have his heart flutter as his eyes gazed over the same spot.

There, vizdavur, the face of fear. His intuition felt it even if he could not see the wyvern. This insight also gave him understanding as to how he could defeat the beast.

Barathiel threw the bow and arrows he had gathered on the top of the big stone. He climbed up.

"You should not have come back for me, young Salugarr," the ranger said. "If you die, my sacrifice will have been in vain."

Barathiel leaned up beside the ranger, and he appraised the wounds. A gash on the left leg where he was dragged. Likely bruised and broken ribs from the fall. Fortunately for him he landed on a large patch of moss. The ranger needed the shorn limb of his arm truncated.

Barathiel pointed to the wyvern to let the beast know he was spotted.

"It is that beast who will die tonight, not us," he yelled for the wyvern to here.

The ranger chortled. "Are you insane, Salugarr?"

"Surely even along these forested grounds you must be aware of what is said in the palace," he answered.

The ranger, still laughing, "that cat's ugly mug snapped your brain like a pile of twigs under a boot. I'll grant you, you've got heart though.'"

Barathiel noticed a quiver at the ranger's side. The strap of which dangled from the ranger's still intact arm. A knife was sheathed at the ranger's belt.

Barathiel looked back at the beast. Still out of sight, but the advocate's skin suddenly flushed with warmth. His sinuses suddenly felt flush with heat, clear and dry.

This fear emanating from the wyvern felt as addictive as the somniferum he vowed to stop using when his Ellie threatened to leave him soon after they married. Jaegers had said as much motivated them in their dangerous sport. That rush of bloodheat and the cool sense of control.

He grinned up to the beast as he took the knife out of the belt and cut the straps from the quiver.

The advocate made a tight tourniquet around the ranger's severed limb. Glancing up as he tied that strap, he taunted the wyvern.

"Patience, my trophy. I will be ready to kill you soon. I hear your hiss and your growl. You sound no different from a tabby in a futile challenge of its master's hand."

"The good gods," the rangers suspired. "I daresay you are tempting -."

"Fate? Nay, no such thing exists. Just ask the Splendid Ladies of the Sœurarchy."

Finished with the tourniquet, he examined the arrows. Of the seven he had gathered up, five still appeared intact. He lay four out on the ranger's chest. The last one, he readied in his bow, and then stood up on the rock that gave clearing in the thick of the woods.

He stared at the spot where fear touched him. He felt the beast linger ever-so-slightly closer. The wyvern drew to him cautiously not willing to give up its advantage.

Nearby he heard the yelping of wolfhounds.

"Don't you dare get distracted again, you coward," Barathiel yelled to the beast.

It lowered to where Barathiel could make out a supernatural silhouette.

"What are you holding back? I want to see you and all your vizdavur glory blotting out the sky."

The wyvern dipped down by several feet before recovering it's hovered placement. When Barathiel's heart stopped, he grimaced. It was time. He lifted the bow at the same time the wyvern's brows raised to spread it's fear, drawing Barathiel's blood to rise to his head in a dizzying stir.

It opened its mouth as Barathiel released the arrow. The sharp head of which pierced the wyvern's tounge, clamping it tight against the roof of its mouth.

The beast gurgled and coughed as it grabbed onto a branch with its two front paws. As it stabilized it's flight, preventing a fall, it turned its head back towards Barathiel.

With its mouth shunted to remain open, this was a mistake. Barathiel would have laughed, if he could breathe. As now victory was his. He put two arrows through the wyvern's open orifice. One arrow shot through the skull. The second pierced from inside of its mouth and out of its eyeball.

The beast fell heavy against the ground. Barathiel realized his heart still had not started beating again. He did not panic as he leaned down and attempted to breathe in. There was a way.

Fortunately, he did not give up his habit. He simply did a better job of hiding it from Ellie. The tobacco and somniferum curings were in his jacket pocket. As was the Deadsift.

He grabbed two handfuls of leaf from his pouch and he began swallowing it rapidly. He opened the half full liquor bottle and drowned it in one go.

A pack of wolfhounds descended on the dying wyvern and tore at it. A mort horn filled the air, and the dogs fell away from the fallen beast.

"Do not rip at the prize kill," yelled Duke Lyoneid.

Barathiel leaned over to the stone and puked his guts out. He could feel the thump of his heart again. Six other men, all rangers, followed the Archduke to the rock Barathiel kneeled upon. They all appeared to be awed in his presence.

"I witnessed the kill," spoke Lord Lyoneid.

"As did we all," an elder ranger confirmed. "Those were the three most excellent shots I have ever seen in my thirty years of service. How is it an advocate is able to put down a beast that has reigned over these marshlands and forest for seventy years and killed a score and dozen jaegers seeking glory hunt."

Barathiel shrugged.

"I followed my heart and I felt there to be a weird about the air this evening. I somehow knew in my bones the wyvern would be venturing out for a hunt, so I decided something had to be done about it."

The Archduke looked curiously at Barathiel and the puked up liquor and leaf. He chuckled.

"What of that, nephew?"

"The vizdavur. Jaegers will tell you. You have to bring with you something that will restart your heart. I was ready for at least that much."

The Archduke slapped Barathiel on the back.

"My wife, you're aunt, sent me to retrieve you. Your lovely wife Ellie is in labor. Your attendance is required."

He turned to the six rangers.

"Let us prepare triage for your comrade here. Salugarr and I will take him back to the palace. The rest of you, find a few good solid limbs to carry the wyvern back to the palace. This will be a evening of great celebration. All due to to this extraordinary young man, my nephew."

With those words the Archduke slapped him on the back once more.