They walked in silence.
Verd gripped the spear so hard his knuckles turned white. The black shaft pulsed in time with his heart - warm, heavy, confident. Every step echoed in his spine, every breath burned his lungs with the dry air of the wasteland. He still felt the hands on his shoulders. They weren't there - he understood that clearly - but the warmth remained.
'What an unpleasant feeling it left behind.'
Arktia walked ahead without looking back. Her back was straight, her steps measured, as if she wasn't walking but floating above the ground. Verd watched her and tried to understand what she was thinking.
'She seems different somehow' - flashed through his mind when he saw her face. - 'Better not open my mouth right now.'
The path wound between rocks, climbing higher. The air grew thinner but not colder. The wasteland knew no cold - only dryness and wind that always blew, as if the world itself was exhaling.
Arktia stopped at the summit. Verd approached and stood beside her. Below stretched a plain. Not the one they had walked through for the past few days - a different one. Soft, green, with sparse bushes and tall grass that swayed even when there was no wind. And on it, birds roamed freely.
There were many of them. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. They wandered across the field, pecking at grass, calling to each other with guttural cries. Two meters tall, with long necks, powerful legs, and beaks that glinted in the sun like spearheads.
-Steppe longlegs, - Arktia said. - Not even awakened monsters.
-How dangerous are they?
-For you - very. - She turned to him. The wind tossed her hair, threw dust in her face, but she didn't squint. - You can handle these. Of course, if you're lucky.
He gripped the spear.
-And if not?
-Then I'll just continue on alone. And your body will remain somewhere in the field.
She wasn't joking. Verd knew it from her voice, from the way she stood, from the way she looked not at him, but at the birds, at the field, at what awaited below. He froze, staring at the monsters for a few more seconds.
-I'll manage, - he said.
Arktia said nothing. Only the corner of her mouth twitched slightly.
The slope was steep. Stones crumbled underfoot, dry grass slipped, and Verd nearly fell twice before reaching level ground, when the birds spotted him immediately.
Heads rose, long necks stretched upward. Dozens of black eyes fixed on him. Someone let out a guttural cry - a warning or a threat, he couldn't tell. But no one ran.
Verd stopped. Gripped the spear. His fingers were wet with sweat, the shaft slipping, but he held tight.
'What am I supposed to do?' - he thought nervously.
A bird, not the largest one, separated from the flock. It came at him not at a run, but at a quick pace, and there was something clumsy yet frightening in that stride. Its beak opened and closed, making a dry, clicking sound like the cracking of branches underfoot.
Verd waited. Watched its thick legs with sharp claws approaching. Watched its head sway on its long neck. Watched the sun glint on its feathers, making them not gray but dark bronze.
It was closer. One more step. Another.
Verd stepped forward and thrust the spear. The blade slid across the feathers, bounced off, barely grazing the flesh. The bird didn't even notice. It jerked its head, and its beak snapped right next to his face - so close that Verd felt the wind, the smell of blood and something sour.
He jumped back, but not fast enough. A huge, yellow, curved claw raked across his shoulder, leaving a long, burning gash on his skin.
The pain didn't come immediately. First the impact, the jolt that threw off his balance. He fell to his knee, hit the ground, and only then felt something hot running down his arm.
'It's just a bird' - he thought, watching the crimson drops fall on the dry grass. - 'Just an ordinary bird. Not a monster. And it's already wounded me.'
The bird was turning around. Slowly, as if in no hurry. It had time. Verd didn't. He jumped up. His shoulder burned, his arm trembled, but he held the spear tight and didn't even think of letting go.
The bird came at him again. Faster this time.
Waiting for the right moment, when the bird could no longer stop, he thrust the spear again and struck. The blade entered the chest, but not deep. The feathers absorbed the impact, cushioning it, and the spear slid aside, leaving only a scratch on the tough skin beneath.
The bird swung its wing. Verd didn't have time to dodge - the blow caught him in the side, knocked the wind out of him, threw him to the ground. Tucking in midair, he landed on his feet, but the monster was already there. Its beak came down like a hammer. He dodged, and the beak drove into the ground where his head had just been. Earth fountained up, clods hit his face, filled his eyes.
Verd crawled back, wiping his face with his hand. The bird pulled its beak from the ground, shook its head. Stared at him.
'Damn... how am I supposed to kill it?' - realization slowly dawned. - 'I can't even wound it.'
He felt blood flowing from his shoulder, his arm going numb, the spear growing heavier with every heartbeat. The bird was slow, clumsy, but he was slower. He was weaker.
'I could barely hold the spear before, and with this wound I won't manage even two strikes.'
The bird stepped closer, beak open.
As it charged at him, Verd remembered yesterday's training. How Arktia flipped the larvae and struck their weak points. Then he remembered her words: "You can handle these. Of course, if you're lucky." In the last second, when only a little over a meter remained between them, Verd simply fell onto his back and thrust the spear upward.
The beak snapped a centimeter from his face. The spear blade pierced the charging monster's throat - not deep, but enough for it to jerk, flap its wings, and recoil.
Blood sprayed across his face. Hot, sticky, salty.
The bird screamed - gutturally, desperately. Blood gushed from the wound, flooding the feathers, the ground, his hands. It tried to strike with its foot, but its movements became chaotic, uncertain. Its wings beat the air, raising dust, but it didn't take off - only spun in place, losing strength. Verd crawled back and jumped up. The bird stood, swaying. Its head tilted to the side, blood still flowing from the wound. It stared at him. Black eyes, empty, uncomprehending. Then the bird slowly sank to the ground, tucking its legs beneath itself, and went still.
'I... did it?' - Verd stood motionless, not daring to come closer. - 'Is it really dead?'
He wanted to turn around, to see where Arktia was, but didn't have time. A second bird separated from the flock. Then a third. Then a fourth.
'Damn!'
Verd backed away. The birds quickened their pace, and he ran.
The ground flew from under his feet. Grass lashed his face, bushes caught at his clothes, but he ran, not looking where he was going. Behind him came the sound of heavy, frequent, relentless pounding.
'They're fast! At this rate, they'll catch me soon!'
Verd tripped over a stone and fell hard onto his knee. Quickly getting up, he took a stance. The birds were closer. The first was already a few steps away, beak open, eyes burning.
'Pull yourself together' - he took a heavy breath. - 'You killed one. You can kill another.'
Without thinking or aiming, he thrust the spear in the direction of the sounds.
The blade slid across the feathers and bounced off. The bird jerked its head, and its beak struck him in the chest, knocking him down. He fell on his back, air bursting from his lungs with a whistle, a wheeze. The bird was already looming over him, raising its foot to strike.
He rolled. Claws drove into the ground where his head had just been. The bird flapped its wings, trying to keep its balance, and he saw its belly. Soft, featherless, with thin, almost transparent skin.
'There!'
Verd struck with the spear as if it were a sword in his hands. From below, upward, with all the strength he had.
The blade entered easily. Almost without resistance. Blood poured over his face, his hands, his chest. The bird screamed - high, piercing - and collapsed onto him, crushing him with its full weight. He felt it thrashing, wings beating the ground, claws scratching the air. But the spear held the monster, didn't let go, and he held it, gripping the shaft until his fingers went numb.
The bird went still. Heavy, dead, it lay on him, and he couldn't breathe, couldn't move. Only stared at the sky, which was blue, clear, indifferent.
When he finally managed to crawl out, a voice came from above:
-Two in one day. Not bad.
He looked up. Arktia stood at the edge of the hill, arms crossed, watching him. There was no wind, and her voice carried cleanly, without interference.
-I thought there would be more, - he called out with difficulty.
-There will be more soon enough if you keep standing there. The smell of blood spreads quickly.
He looked at the carcasses. At the blood spreading across the ground, at the feathers trembling in the wind. The smell was already there - heavy, sweetish, cloying. The kind of smell you can sense from a mile away.
-What should I do?
-Drag them up here. Quickly.
'Drag them? Are you kidding me?' - he thought in disbelief.
Verd walked over to the first carcass. Bent down, grabbed it by the leg, and pulled. It was heavy - heavier than he'd thought. Much heavier. His feet sank into the ground, his back ached, his shoulder burned, but he pulled.
He stopped to catch his breath. Looked up at the hill where Arktia waited.
-I can't drag both, - he shouted.
-You will.
-They're heavy! - the guy answered irritably.
-You killed them. Now you have to bring them, - Arktia stood her ground.
Verd exhaled. The blood from his shoulder wound mixed with the birds' blood, and now he couldn't tell where his ended and theirs began. Everything was red. Sticky. Heavy.
After a few minutes, he dragged the carcass to the foot of the hill. Arktia came down to meet him, walked around the carcass, examined it.
-Lots of meat, - she said. - Enough for a week.
-I almost died.
-But you didn't.
At that moment, a rumble sounded in the distance. Turning his head sharply, Verd was startled, and sweat ran down his face.
Arktia, however, smiled and said:
-Finally, they're here.
Two enormous monsters. Two centipedes over twenty meters long writhed across the field, aggressively devouring the birds that got in their way.
-What's happening... - Verd said quietly.
Arktia didn't answer - just stepped slightly forward.
-I think you've gotten used to your new weapon, - she began slowly. - Time to try something new.
-New?
-A battle as a team.