“Shift, Pidge!” I scream out, and she does without question, just as Cree rears up ready to do everything she can to knock our head off our shoulders.
Just like we used to practice back in the fields around Kestrel City, Pigeon gets sucked back into our core, leaving me to run right at a fucking monster. I skid like I’m stealing home base and punch out with my fists like I’m hoping my power will right hook her into oblivion. Panic rips through me though when no purple power of doom shoots out of my hands, and instead I find myself gripping some kind of weapon in both my palms.
Time slows as I skid closer to Cree, the hilt of two swords in my hands. Only they’re not swords exactly, because the blades look broken.
Fuck.
Where the gleaming metal of a sword blade should exist, it looks more like interconnecting vertebrae. Only instead of bones making up the unusual spine-like appearance, sharp pieces of metal interlock with each other. I flick my wrist, testing out the weird weapon, and the metal pieces suddenly move like a whip. Shock punches through me when my innocuous wrist flick sends the blade pieces snapping out and burying themselves in Cree’s descending arm.
She screams and instantaneously yanks her hand back, and the weird whip-sword blades dig into her flesh even deeper. Astonished, I’m still holding on to the handles as the blades of the whip grow taught from her reeling back, and I’m suddenly flung to the side and then up into the air. The handles of the weapons are wrenched from my grip, and I immediately release my hold on our body so that Pigeon can once again come surging forward.
She bends us and flips us midair, using our aching wings to right our trajectory so we’re no longer flying away but barreling right for Cree again. Her arm is mangled and bleeding, and she clutches it closely to her chest as we charge into her with all our might.
A large crack bounces off the walls of the pit as our massive feather- and fur-covered bodies collide, and Pigeon snaps out and digs her sharp beak into Cree’s shoulder. Momentum has us both ping-ponging off the pit wall, and we’re all claws, snarls, and hooked beaks as we tear at each other.
Somehow Cree gets us on our back, and as she snaps for our face, I feel Pigeon recede again.
“Fuck!” I scream, not ready for her to hand me back the reins, so I try to make the whip swords appear in my hand again. They don’t. Instead, I get some Chronicles of Riddick shit that pops up in my hands, and I find myself squeezing two black grips with blades that curve around my knuckles like back-to-back Js.
Cree’s beak snaps out at my face, and on pure instinct, I shove my blade-covered fists out, the sharp black blades instantly connecting with her neck. Cree freezes, her gryphon face less than six inches from mine. My blades are buried in the feathers of her neck, warm blood now dripping down my fists.
We’re both panting and unmoving, as though someone hit pause on the battle and we’re waiting for them to hit play again. I’m completely surprised that Cree doesn’t just close the distance and rip my face off. I’m pretty sure she’d kill me before my blades could slice her head off, but maybe they’re sharper than I realized.
A familiar chuffing noise creeps out of Cree’s maw, and I realize that everyone around us is completely silent. No one is cheering or jeering. It’s as though they’re just as shocked by what’s happening as Cree and I are.
Cree steps back, and Pigeon and I tense, ready for her next attack. It doesn’t come. Only more of that gryphon giggle fills the pit as Cree distances herself from us, slowly loping toward her scattered pile of clothing and armor. I scamper as far away from the foggy-colored gryphon as I can. I move away until the side of the pit caresses the naked skin of my back. My Nike Swoosh shaped blades are still clutched in my hands, mostly because I have no idea how to get rid of them or really why I even have them in the first place. I watch Cree through suspicion-laced blinks and heavy breaths, feeling like this is somehow just another one of her tricks.
Her gryphon folds in on itself until Cree is all that remains, as naked as I am and surprisingly battered. Blood trickles down her throat, her shoulder, her back, her thigh. Her arm is fucked up, and I’m stunned to see the wounds of her gryphon have manifested on her body too. Pigeon’s pain and injuries always feel separate from mine, with the exception of our wings. Not taking my eyes off of Cree for a second, I run my fingers over my shoulder where I know she did her best to rip it apart, but there’s just smooth skin.
I can feel Pigeon hurting inside of me, and yet I bear no marks of what we just endured. I need to ask Wekun if that’s normal. I tense as two burly guard-looking guys jump into the pit and saunter over to Cree. She chuckles and bats at their hands as they wipe blood from her body and press their hands against her wounds. Not guards, I tell myself as I watch the exchange, healers. I’m reminded of the healer that Treno brought to me in Kestrel, and I find myself completely fascinated as I watch her
