The Deepcombers

Chapter Twelve

Squawk. The strange animal was less than twelve paces away. Lon knew it tried to frighten him back down the rock face, but if he shimmied down now he'd likely fall to his death.

What was this thing? It looked like beaked-bear or some other mammal with a crooked head, and then it spread its wings. The huge bird had a brown and black speckled coat with white tail feathers. Its beaked face carried a concerned look. That changed to anger when it stepped-up unto the tight pile of sticks under its feet.

Lon saw the bird uncurl its toes and straighten razor sharp talons. The angry brown beast cocked its head to stare down at him. He yelled over his shoulder, "maybe wait," he shouted over the roar of the waterfall.

The huge bird lifted its wings and squawked. The sight of the predator terrified the lad and he collapsed flat onto his belly again, his legs were still draped over the edge. The bird squawked in his ear and he hoped Jarl's sudden appearance wouldn't cause the buzzard to go berserk. He cried down again, "maybe wait!"

"Squaaaawk!' the bird agreed with Lon. It mauled its nest with its claws to demonstrate it's destructive power.

"What is it?" Jarl asked.

"A bird."

"Kill it."

Lon studied the winged beast that was more than twice his size. "A giant bird," he clarified.

"I'm coming." The big cat clambered up the cliff to lie flat beside the lad. His eyes were filled with respect and admiration for the mythical aviator. "A brown roc," he said reverently. He crawled forward on his stomach to get the rest of body topside. Both climbers lay on their bellies and watched the bird perched on its fortress nest. Once again it displayed its razor sharp claws. It screeched directly at the lionfeigor as if to say, 'I see your creeping advance,' and 'this is your last warning.'

Rather than be frightened, Jarl delighted at how his presence angered the aviator. He didn't seem to worry the ferocious killer had spiky feet that were deadly sharp.

"Ugg. Look at his toenails." 

"It's a female," Jarl corrected. "A lovely hen," he said, and studied the bird a minute longer in respectful silence.

"How do you know that?"

"Skin on her neck. See how the feathers have fallen away. Plus, the male has a plume like a crown. And is bigger."

Both intruders waited.

"If it has eggs, maybe it won't leave its nest." Lon guessed; he rose to his knees to test his theory. "We can just ignore it and follow the water." He pointed at the stream, his grand escape route that lay undiscovered behind mounds of rubble.

The bird attacked. Her sortie was no doubt prompted by Lon's rise. The huge flyer spread her wings and darkened the sky as she tried to snatch-up the white-haired intruder.

The young lad rolled left and heard her pincers slice the empty air like pruning shears. He'd defied her, but just barely.

She landed again and her enormous wings made a sudden gale to send small sticks and gravel into the air. The shrapnel took them both by surprise and blinded their eyes and for few heartbeats the two trespassers lay quite defenseless on the ledge.

Then she calmed and issued a derogatory squawk.

Lon glanced back and saw Jarl grin with delight at the roc's clever defense.

Clyde appeared at the cliff's edge. He must have heard the commotion and raced-up to help. He'd fearlessly scaled the remaining heights despite the wood and pebble downpour. Lon smiled with pride, but the noble didn't even see him. His eyes were locked on the raptor.