Totem 20: Eternal Enemies (Patreon)

The Roadrunner snapped Russell up, just like how waterbirds in the river of my village snapped up a fish. One quick jerk and a flip up of the prey into the air before a second lightning-fast snap where the fish—or annoying little boy—slides down the gullet.

That moment seemed to stretch on for an eternity.

The kid had been annoying from start to finish, but he didn't deserve to die. He was still a kid and had room to grow. In that moment, all I felt was horror.

But Russell didn't just slide cleanly down the bird's throat. He wasn't a fish or a hapless lizard. He hit the mouth head first and somehow managed to stop his downward momentum by hooking an arm around the hinge of the beak.

The bird bit down, and I could imagine the crunch... but Russell managed to hold on. His elbow stuck out the side of the bird's mouth, curled around, legs kicking out the front.

He couldn't stay that way for long. I did the only thing I could at that moment: Attack.

Since the damn monster was about 20 feet tall, I went for the thin legs. It was basically like running after a moving pair of sapling trees.

Sapling trees that could dance out of the way in quick flash movements and try to step on you. The only thing that saved me from being crushed in the first few seconds was that the bird was horribly distracted. Half choking on your meal will do that, I guess.

With a screech, it shook its head back and forth, all the while trying to dance around; half trying to dislodge Russell so it could swallow him cleanly, and half trying to step on me.

I reached for my Gosling core and felt it respond with a trickle of energy that came out as flame. There wasn't any art to it; I just wanted to cause the bird more pain and distraction. Extending my palms, I managed to hit roughly where the ankle was, and though I don't think the flame burned past the thick scales that protected the legs, the monster-bird sure felt it.

It screeched a sound that was so high-pitched, so loud, that I felt it in my bones. I resisted the urge to clap my hands over my ears.

Good thing, because the Roadrunner took that opportunity to peck down at me.

Unfortunately, its beak was still full of Russell. Not smart.

I rolled out of the way, and the sharp beak missed me by inches. Russell fell out of the mouth, covered in bird spit. I only caught a glimpse of him, but he was a mess—and I was pretty sure that one elbow was not supposed to be facing that way.

“Russell, get up,” I yelled, but the kid was either too stunned to move or unconscious. I couldn't tell.

I caught a flash of color above us as the Roadrunner raised a crest of feathers on the top of its head. It poised for a second on the verge of pecking down again, and I couldn't help but think that it was savoring a moment of triumph.

A low hiss escaped my lips.

That's when Annika let out a howling shriek of her own and smacked the creature with the underside of a large piece of wood, hitting it right under the tail feathers.

Man or monster, no one likes getting smacked in the ass.

The bird twisted its head and flapped its wings. I’d started to rise, but the wind knocked me to the ground.

Shit, it was about to peck down again.

So I did the only thing I could and demanded more from my inner Gosling. It answered with a big burst of energy that came out from my hands as an impressive ball of fire.

Unfortunately, the flames were too diffuse to do more than scorch a couple of outer feathers, but it caused the Roadrunner to dance hastily back, opening up some distance and giving us a little precious time.

Russell was still down, though he was starting to get up to his knees, cradling one elbow and making pathetic mewing noises.

Annika had been knocked down by the wind too, and she wasn't getting up.

A couple of the Road Runner’s outer feathers had caught on fire, and the Roadrunner was wheeling around, snapping at them to try to put out the flames. If two of my team—my flock—weren't down, I would call for a retreat.

Hell, I should run for my life. If I was smart,  my ass would be halfway out of this village.

Instead, I ran for Annika.

Or at least, I started to.

Two steps in, and I saw that she wasn't knocked out. There was no blood. But... something was going on with her. It wasn't visual, just a weird echoing feeling that surrounded her in a haze. Whatever it was, it resonated with my Gosling core.

Oh shit, was she focused on her inner self, meeting her with totem?

"Annika!" I yelled, though it was a toss-up if she could hear me or not. Not if she was in that room within her own spirit. “Don't take the power—give it all to your totem. Do you understand? Give it to your totem!”

That was all I had time for because the Roadrunner had fixed its "currently on fire" problem and was running back at us.

I turned, facing it, my arms slightly out from my body.

No. I would not let this son of a bitch mess with my flock!

I felt the Gosling extend stubby little wings in my core, echoing my defiance.

I screamed out a challenge and ran straight toward the Roadrunner, intending to meet it halfway.

A goose didn't run from what was pissing it off.

The roadrunner arched its neck as if ready to peck down again, but I forestalled it with a blast of fire.

The roadrunner wasn't a complete idiot. It stepped so neatly out of the way that it had to have anticipated my movement.

That was fine because my fire had been only to buy me a few seconds of time. I leaped as high as I could, imagining that I was propelled by wings.

It didn't get me any higher than usual, but it felt cool.

However, my leap was just high enough to grab the first of the feathers that stuck out from the base of the monster’s leg. Some feathers came away in my hands, but most of the quills held.

Gritting my teeth, I started to climb up.

Startled, the roadrunner snapped at me. I kicked out, striking the beak and knocking it just to the side.

Then I returned the favor by slamming a fire-hot hand down between its feathers and on its bare skin.

Fun fact: Roadrunners can scream.

They can also roll.

I don’t know how I survived getting crushed. My world flipped around me, and for a moment all I knew was crushing earth and quivering feathers. I think it instinctively didn’t want to press down on the burned spot too hard, and since I was right over that burned spot… well.

But I would have been screwed if not for Annika.

The roadrunner came out of its roll, leaving me dazed but still clinging to its feathers, and wondering how to coax another burst of fire from my inner gosling.

A sound that was half scream, half howl caught my attention. I looked and saw Annika charging at me and the roadrunner. Some of the flossy veils were ripped away and her remaining eye was wild.

She lifted her arms and gestured in a sharp clapping motion. Teeth made of air with the bare hint of a narrow dog-like muzzle clamped over one of the legs. I heard a snap of breaking bone.

The roadrunner screeched and fell – thankfully, coming down on the other side and not on me.

I didn’t waste any time past thinking: Oh wow, I’m not dead.

My inner goose extended his wings and formless fire raged out, uncontrolled.

Again, Annika clapped. This time the vicious air-teeth came down on one of the roadrunner’s stubby, but flailing wing.

It didn’t take long to end things.

****

Annika and I went to Russell after it was over. He was awake, sitting up, still covered with bird spit from head to toe, and sniveling over his arm.

But he was alive.

“Hey,” I said, crouching down near him. “Smart thinking there, using your arm like that.”

“Am I going to lose it?” he asked.

I looked to Annika who had bent as well to examine the arm.

“I’ve seen this before. The elbow is out of its joint,” she said. “Unfortunately it’s not as easy to pop back in as with a shoulder. This will hurt, we’ll have to ease it back into place, and we must keep the arm bound up for a few weeks after to let it heal.”

She made to touch the arm but Russell shied away. “I want a real healer to do it.”

Annika didn’t blink. “I’ve met my Totem, which makes me an adult. You do what I say, child.”

He gaped at her, and as shitty as he could be, tradition held firm: Adults were to be obeyed. Reluctantly, he let her have access to his arm.

I looked from Annika to the roadrunner and back again, remembered the dog-like jaws of air, and grinned.

“Coyote?”

She glanced at me. “How did you know?”

“Because,” I said, “the noble coyote has long been the enemy of roadrunners.”

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