Chapter 3 -- . Giant beasts.
One of the vultures suddenly veered off-course and slammed into another. Wings collided mid-air with a violent snap, and the calm, calculated circling broke. A jagged line split the sky between them as they dove and twisted, beaks snapping, talons flailing.
Kaya narrowed her eyes.
They weren’t coming for her.
No...
They were after something else—another body, maybe. Another feast. But even that didn’t feel right. Only two vultures were locked in combat. The others kept circling as if the fight didn’t concern them.
Then her gaze caught on something.
In the claw of one of the vultures... something small. Feathered. Struggling. It wasn’t clear from this distance, but it looked like a small bird—alive, or barely. Her stomach twisted. What were they doing?
The two vultures dove at each other again, this time with a fury that made her wince. It wasn’t scavenging. It was personal. One struck the other hard, sending it spiraling downward, wings flailing before it crashed into the dirt with a heavy, bone-crunching thud.
Then—
The victorious vulture looked up.
Right at her.
Kaya froze.
Not just paused—froze.
Her breath caught, muscles locked, and for a split second, she felt the primal chill of prey locked in a predator’s gaze.
And then it moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
It launched itself from the air, tearing toward her with wings outstretched, claws forward, and that dry, rasping cry echoing across the field—
"KHHHRRRRRHH—!"
No time to think. No time to question.
Reflexes kicked in.
BANG!
Her gun went off. The recoil jolted through her arm. The vulture screamed—sharp, high, wrong—and then dropped like a rock. Feathers burst in the air as its body slammed to the earth with a sickening thud.
Kaya stood there, breath caught somewhere between her ribs and throat. Smoke curled lazily from the barrel of her gun. The silence around her wasn’t peaceful—it was waiting. Even the wind seemed to pause, as if unsure whether to mourn or applaud.
Her eyes stayed on the place the vulture fallen.
But then, suddenly, something shifted in the air.
All the vultures turned.
Dozens of glinting eyes—sharp, glassy, unblinking—locked onto her. For a moment, the world stilled. Kaya could see her own reflection in them, distorted and multiplied, as if she were prey already trapped in their collective gaze.
If they were normal birds, she might’ve held her ground. But these weren’t birds.
These were beasts.
Monsters cloaked in feathers.
There were at least twenty of them—maybe more. And Kaya, perched precariously on a branch too high for comfort, did a mental count of what she had left.
Fifteen bullets. That was it.
Only because she still had one last barrel loaded. After that—nothing.
Just a small knife at her thigh, dull from use.
Her breath caught.
If they attacked—really attacked—not even her sharpest instincts, not even all her training and desperate fury, would be enough. She could kill a few. Maybe. But all of them? She’d be torn apart.
Her eyes dropped to her hands. They were trembling.
The gun shook slightly in her grip.
This tree... it was tall. Way too tall.
If she fell—she didn’t need anyone to tell her what would happen. She’d either die instantly or break more bones than she could count. And out here, alone, with no one around for miles?
No hospitals. No help. No second chances.
Even if she survived the fall, the forest wouldn’t let her live long enough to regret it.
Kaya’s heart thundered in her chest. For the first time in a long time... she felt it.
Fear.
Cold.
Icy.
After a long, grueling struggle, she finally managed to climb down from the tree. But as if even luck had abandoned her, the moment her feet touched the ground, they slipped out from under her. Her body hit the earth with a harsh thud, and a sharp twist shot through her left foot.
"Ugh..."
She winced, her breath catching in her throat as pain lanced through her ankle. Clutching it tightly, she could tell it wasn’t fractured—but it wasn’t far from it either. The swelling was quick and brutal. It felt like the muscle tissue around the joint had torn, and one of her nerves had been pinched, judging by the stinging, almost electric pain that flared with even the slightest movement.
Trying to push herself up, she bit her lip and leaned heavily against the tree for support. Her breathing was uneven, shaky.
She looked down at her foot—already beginning to swell—and as soon as she tried to put weight on it again, the pain surged up her leg, fierce and unforgiving.
"Just great..." she muttered under her breath. No painkillers. No ointment. Not even a scrap of cloth to bind it with.
And definitely no one around to help.
Kaya pulled a slightly crumpled handkerchief from her coat pocket and stared at it with a grimace. "Useless punk," she muttered, recognizing it as the one she had packed for someone who clearly didn’t deserve the thought. Still, it was all she had. She crouched down, tightened the cloth firmly around her sprained ankle, then slipped her boot back on with a quiet wince.
Using the nearby tree trunk for support, she pushed herself upright. The forest had gone silent again. Not just quiet — but the kind of stillness that made the air feel heavy, like the calm after a disaster. Or before one.
Her breath slowed. The trees rustled faintly above, but there was no movement on the ground, no birdsong, no whispers of animals. Just silence.
And yet... the image of the vultures burned in her mind.
They weren’t a hallucination.
She’d seen them — huge, grotesque, wings wide enough to block the light. At first, she thought her mind had exaggerated the size, but standing here now, she could see the evidence left behind.
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