absence of eyebrows.
His nose was a blobby affair, its various bends and planes giving evidence of having been broken numerous times and set without the benefit of a healer.
His mouth was but a cruel slit through which his foul breath rasped loudly.
Clutched in one immense hand was an equally immense sword, the well-honed edge of which gleamed silver.
The giant snarled silently, and his face twitched into an awful grimace while his sword trembled barely a hand's span from Mika's quivering body. It was obvious that the giant was uncertain what he should do.
Desperately Mika looked at the giant, trying to formulate some plan of his own.
Then, the giant's hand shot out, grasped the back of Mika's neck and began to pull. But owls have no necks, and the man's hand found nothing to grab but feathers, which he pulled and tugged, causing Mika great pain.
Mika was determined not to be separated from the girl, so he opened his beak and gripped the scarlet ribbon that criss-crossed her dress, gently separating the girl's breasts, and hung on tight, clasping her generous figure with outspread wings. The sword hovered nearby, waiting for even the tiniest sliver of space so that it could slip between the girl and his body. He clutched harder. What a waste, he thought. Here I am pressed up against the most beautiful woman in the world, and I'm an owl.
Then the thought spun out of his mind as the giant gave up his painful tugging and began beating on Mika's head with the hilt of the sword.
Damn! This had to stop. Mika knew that he had to get out of the wagon and soon, or he would be one dead owl. Letting go of the ribbon, he swiveled his head and sank his beak into the giant's arm. The sensation was very satisfying. Blood spurted in every direction and flowed down Mika's throat. Strange that he had never noticed how good blood tasted before.
The giant tried to shake Mika off his arm, but there wasn't enough room in the wagon to swing a cat, let alone an owl, and all he succeeded in doing was bashing his elbow against a wooden strut. He hissed angrily. The giant tried to pass the sword to his left hand, but Mika kicked out with his foot and the sword fell to the floor with a tinny clatter.
The wagon was shaking violently now, and out of the corner of his eye, Mika saw the cowhide covering behind the driver's seat start to open. Then the giant swung around, obscuring Mika's view. Mika bit down harder. The giant grunted soundlessly and fell against the cowhide. Mika heard a startled exclamation and guessed that the driver had been knocked off his perch.
Mika had only a second to hope that the fall had been fatal, for the giant was up to no good. Using his arm, the one Mika was biting, the giant pressed against the owl's throat, crushing him against the side of the wagon.
Against his will, Mika was forced to open his beak in an attempt to suck air into his lungs. As he did, the giant ripped his arm free and grabbed Mika by the chest, holding him out at arm's length while reaching for the knife that hung from his loincloth.
Time to leave! Mika kicked the giant full in the face with all his might and felt the man's nose squash beneath the hard, callused ball of his foot.
He rammed his big toe into the giant's eye, stepped on his shaved head with his other foot, and tore free of the giant's grasp, leaving the man nothing but a handful of snow-white feathers, as he scrambled through the hole in the roof of the wagon and flew away.
Men stood in the clearing looking upward, pointing at him as he flew above them. Well, he could fix that, and taking careful aim, Mika squeezed a sphincter muscle and was rewarded by the howls of the watchers below as they shielded their heads and ran for shelter.
Mika beat the air with powerful strokes and headed back for the safety of the forest. But shortly before he reached the coppice, he began feeling sick at his stomach and his vision blurred. Realizing what was happening, Mika circled lower and lower, attempting to land before he changed back into human form.
Everything grew vague. A huge tree loomed up in front of him, and putting his feet out, he touched down just as darkness washed over him and he saw no more.
Chapter 10
Mika woke to find himself sprawled naked on top of a large roanwood branch, more than forty feet above the ground. Off in the distance he could hear men shouting as they plunged through the dark forest. He could see the bright light of their torches. It would never do to be found like this. He had to get into his clothes and make an appearance. His absence would definitely be noted.
As he pushed himself up from the branch, he nearly fell, but he clutched the tree with his right arm and hung on for dear life as he stared in horror at his left arm. Or, rather, what used to be his left arm. Now, it was a wing from the shoulder down.
Sour bile rose in his throat, and he rested his forehead against the rough bark and tried not to be sick. All sense of urgency left him as he pondered this new problem. It scarcely mattered now if he got back to his clothes before he was found. There was no way of concealing for long the fact that he had a wing instead of an arm.
Mika's mind raced as he tried to think back over what he might have done wrong, but since the spell was gone from his memory, it was difficult to reconstruct. Obviously, he had fouled up some crucial part of the spell that channeled the return from one body to the other.
He tried to recall what would happen in such an instance, but he could not remember anything except the story of Grizzard, the shaman of a clan of Wolf Nomads that spent much of their time deep in the Burneal Forest.
During a convocation of shamans, which had taken place at their camp, Grizzard had attempted to polymorph himself into something, exactly what, Mika had never determined. But in the middle of the spell, Grizzard's young son, six years of age and old enough to know better, had interrupted his father with some childish tale of woe. Grizzard's wife had appeared and dragged the child away instantly, but the damage was done.
Grizzard changed right before their eyes. Or at least part of him did. His head, to be precise, changed into that of a goose. He was a man from the shoulders down and a goose from the neck up. An angry goose.
The goose-man chased the woman and child around the entire camp, honking its irritation, and when it finally caught up with the unfortunate child, it pecked him black and blue.
Three days later the spell came undone and Grizzard returned to his human form. But ever after, he was called Gizzard, in spite of his objections, and the child was afraid to come near him for several moonturns. Grizzard also developed a fondness for worms.
Mika could not wait three days. He needed to be normal now. He considered staying up in the tree until the change took place, but it was chilly and the mosquitos had found him and were humming their approval. Then too, he would certainly be seen in the morning light even if he escaped detection now.
Mika could think of nothing worse than being gaped at by a crowd of curious nomads and drivers while he huddled naked in a tree trying to hide his wing.
A short bark sounded at the foot of the tree. Tam! Mika felt his spirits rise. Peering down over the edge of the branch he could just make out Tam's figure at the foot of the tree.
'Good boy,' whispered Mika. 'Tam, go get my clothes and the pouch,' he directed. But Tam merely sat there wagging his tail from side to side. Mika hurled small branches at the wolf, but Tam just ignored them and continued barking.
'Stupid wolf,' Mika muttered angrily, knowing that he had to get down immediately, before Tam's barking brought the searchers. He pushed himself up carefully and edged over to the trunk of the tree.
Getting down was easier than he had thought it would be. Mika had been climbing roan wood trees since he was a toddler, and his hand and feet found the correct placement without even thinking about it.
'Did I ever tell you that your mother was a dog?' Mika whispered nastily as he ran through the woods, deftly ducking branches and other obstacles. Tam loped alongside, tongue lolling, laughing in his wolf fashion.
Cries were echoing all around Mika, torches flashing like giant fireflies as he dove into the thicket and squirmed into his clothes, dragging his cloak over the offending wing.
