Freya thought about how often she’d attended a dance that ended in a flaming mess. It wasn’t that she had seen it happen that often, but the one time felt like a lot. So as she flew away from the smoking ruin, she wasn’t really paying attention.

That was when the camp below her sprung into action, and an errant arrow flew past her.

Freya jerked out of her thoughts.

Flames erupted as two or three archers took aim at her. Flying above the camp, being the only bird in sight when the alarm was raised, had caused her to be a target.

Freya banked, barrel rolling past three arrows.

“Just a few more seconds…”

The first arrow that hit her left wing made her realize that mistakes had been made. When a second arrow hit near the same spot, she immediately began to glide towards the nearest tree.

River had never mentioned the pain of getting hit in a wing but Freya realized that the best she could do was to hold it in place. Otherwise she would drop like a stone.

She saw her trajectory taking her closer and closer to the ground and she just barely made it over the wall on the outside of the cat camp.

Rolling around she felt pain that surely would have caused her to go unconscious before she'd met River.

All she wanted to do was stop. She ached all over and her wing was bleeding with two arrows below her hand.

Freya picked herself up, reaching for the chicken bond and realizing with horror that she had landed on the wrong side of the camp.

Quickly she scanned the surroundings, finding that she was close to a copse of trees. She wasn't far from the camp or the trees.

Freya winced as she ran as fast as she could to the trees ahead of her.

Behind her the shouts of cats could be heard. If she could make it to the top of the tree, she would have options.

The time it took her to get to the trees felt interminable and also very short. Before she knew it she was pulling the two arrows out of her arm to use to climb. Her left arm held on weakly.

Freya grabbed her knife from her boot and put it in her beak. She cursed the raven for putting her in this situation, then kicked off her boots. Her talons would be better suited to help her climb.

The sound of a cat search party being assembled got louder. Freya tossed her boots underneath one tree then climbed the next one.

She hoped the small diversion would buy her time. The boots were rank in smell. She circled the tree to be away from the camp and out of direct view. Then she began to climb,slowly and painfully.

The voices grew louder.

Freya pressed on.

The shouts became audible voice commands.

Freya burned some of her red mist, realizing that she was close to empty.

Then she heard a cat begin to climb the tree where she had left her boot.

She didn't stop until the first branch she could sit on. By that time the two arrows were broken to pieces and Freya sighed.

She immediately pulled out an arrow shaft and some resin. She prepared the arrow and then reached for her bag of feathers.

That was when it hit her that she'd lost the feathers somewhere along the way. Freya cursed her luck. She was stuck in a tree on the wrong side of enemy lines and the only tool she had was missing a part.

Freya nearly cried, wiping her face with a wing.

Then a thought struck her and the fire ignited in her heart.

She wasn't missing a part.

Freya recalled the aviary archer that requested custom made arrows with his own feathers.

Freya looked to her lame wing and considered how much pain she really could take.

She could take some more. If she really had to. Breaking the bond with the wyvern was tough but doable only because she had done it before.

Freya had made hundreds if not thousands of arrows. The conditions were not ideal, but they never were.

Freya bit into the boot knife.

With her right hand she pulled three feathers out of her left wing one at a time. She figured that she would be able to hold it up with the left while she pulled the string taut. The arrows had hit a painful place under where her elbows sat but it missed the big muscles and arteries.

Freya's beak dug into the knife. She didn't scream but she wanted to.

Freya took a breath and removed the knife. If nothing else it would be a distraction. The only way she way getting out was through the cats.

Freya took the feathers and felt out the tools to make the arrow. The resin was on his right side and she connected the feathers to her first experimental arrow.

The pain of removing some of her feathers was excruciating. It felt worse than hair being ripped out. Freya grimaced as it stung worse after they were out.

Normally she had more time to treat the feathers but tonight she had moments if the sounds from her followers were to be believed.

One arrow turned into three as Freya grabbed more of her feathers. Each removal was an agony that she needed to bear.

Freya wordlessly summoned her chicken giving it instructions to swing wide around the cat, and not attempt it if the way is too much.

The camp was in a full uproar as they responded to the wyvern attack. Freya wanted to just hop into the burrows, but as it would be her first time on her own… she would leave that as a possibility. Mice liked backup plans.

***

Jean Bailey, Marshall of War Chief Alexas Army had not been inside the building when the flames started spouting.

It had to be some kind of magical attack. Burnt and smoking cats fled the manor in droves, causing a feeling of panic.

There was no organization.

Belatedly he pulled the horn out of his ceremonial cloak. He needed to muster his troops.

All of them.

If they were going to hit like this, they were going to hit back.

***

Freya heard the horn sounding twice and prayed that it wasn't meant for her. River was still providing some distraction. The warm sticky liquid around her branch would probably smell to the cats.

Freya knew that she probably had one or two more weaves left in her before she needed to eat. She did a mental tally of her remaining seed. It would be sufficient to do something.

That was when the cat appeared below her and began to climb her tree.