Despite its speed, the creature was too close to escape the fire unharmed. Its feathers lit up, sizzling. It flapped away, leaving a trail of smoke through the air and disappeared into the night.

The second bird didn't go unharmed, either: it was fast enough to dart out of the way, but the claws left long, deep scratches down its breast. Hot, black blood—rotting blood—spilled from the wound. It hissed angrily, but wheeled away, too. That wasn't the prey it wanted, anyway.

For a good minute or two, it seemed as if they'd both been chased off—until they dove again for the girl. The fire had burned out on the one, but when it hit the girl, the ragged remains of its wings made it clear it wouldn't be taking to the air again. No longer able to dive properly, it began snapping with its beak, trying to tear through anything: her arm, her throat, her eye.