A horse whinnies somewhere in the forest below and startles Pipaluk so thoroughly she nearly loses her footing on the rocky outcrop she’s managed to climb up to. Her wings cramp horribly in their bindings, but she hasn't had the resources to cut them free since her initial escape from the human camp.

Once she’s sure she won’t fall again, she gingerly moves her clawed hands to continue her slow ascension to the top of the cliffside. From there she’ll be able to call Jaeberd and all the forces of the High King. These human mortals will regret ever stepping foot on their soil, calling it the “New World.”

Her fingers find the edge of the rock and she gives herself a final hoist upward, rolling her body over the cliff’s edge to move with the change of gravity. The leathery skin of her wings feels raw, likely from the abrasive sand and gravel on which she now lays.

She reaches around with a taloned finger and slices cleanly through the mortal’s ropes. They’d known what to do, binding her wings and hands and rendering her all but immobile. What they hadn’t banked on, however, was the presence of a weak link in their midst.

A young explorer, obviously new to his post, had eyed Pipa with sparkling curiosity. He’d been the one in charge of bringing her food and water, and he’d been all too easy to lure into helping her. Pipa brings her hands to her mouth and cups them, blowing to create a shrill whistle.

A responding call echoes across the rocky landscape, and a large bird appears in the sky moments later. Jaeberd sits low over the creature’s neck, no more than a dot of bright blue among the dusty brown feathers. If there’s any luck to be had, the humans will think Jaeberd and Taron are just a regular bird.

This high up, they likely won’t be able to see much more than the flash of Taron’s wings as the bird swoops down to grab Pipa. Once they’re close enough Pipa takes a running start, pumping her legs and flaring her wings to catch a gust of air to boost her form up into the sky.

Once airborne she tucks her leathered wings close to her back, so it’s easier for Taron to grab her. The great hawk snaps his talons closed around her slight form and soars higher before leveling out. Once they’re steady, Taron’s grip loosens and Pipa climbs around to take a seat behind Jaeberd.

“My heart, how you worry me.”

“I missed you too, Jae. The humans think they have the upper hand with their crude firespits, but they will soon learn. Where’s the High King?”

“Your father is waiting for us to return to the flock to send the rest of the riders down.”

“So they are not far.”

“No.”

They climb higher, through the clouds. Dark shapes become visible, turning to other large birds are they draw nearer. Leading them is a large barn owl, with the High King sitting between its wings. Pipa whistles again and his head snaps around, finding her and Jaeberd atop Taron.

“Pipaluk.”

“Father.”

A kite glides up from the back of the flock, its pristine white wings glinting in the sun. In a motion she’s done a hundred times before, Pipa stands and jumps from Taron’s back to Striper’s. Though the kite isn’t saddled she manages to brace herself between the bird’s wings.

“Now, let’s bring down the sky.”

No further prompting is necessary, and the birds assembled around them assume formation. Skyfall is a tactic every fledgling in the forest learns before they can even walk, hiding in the clouds as cover and dropping down on their enemies from above.

Spears are laid across biceps, bodies crouched low in anticipation of the coming dive. As one single unit they all descend, like the metal balls the humans launch from their weapons. The human camp is in disarray, Pipa notes her guards are lying unconscious in the same spots she’d last seen them.

A shout rises to meet them, one of the humans sees them descending. Though there’s no time for them to rally, as many of the humans deemed soldiers are preparing for mealtime. Jaeberd levels his spear and guides Taron so the bird’s talons skim the grass.

With all the grace of a mountain cat, he launches himself from Taron's back. He lands firmly on the ground in a crouch, using his momentum to spring back up and drive his spear through the nearest human's stomach. Taron banks higher and rejoins the flock in the sky, leading his own aerial assault.

Pipaluk jumps once close enough to the ground and rolls to stick the landing. She pulls a spear from the nearest corpse, all brute strength and fierce retribution. She and Jaeberd fight their way through the camp alongside their kin, slashing and stabbing their way through the fray.

The last body falls with a wet thud, nearly rent in two by the angle of the spear impaling him, and the King jerks his spear free. Wings rustle as their avian mounts land on in the trees, the limbs and trunks groaning under their weight. Two humans have been left alive, one whose tongue is cut from his mouth and the other rendered blind by Striper's talons.

They're held up between several members of the flock, though they still try to shrink away as the King draws closer.

“Witness the carnage your people brought upon themselves.You took my daughter and threatened my kin. Keep your records, tell your leaders. Do not bring any more of your kind to these lands, to this forest, unless you wish to start a war without end.”

Jaeberd and another soldier rig two horses to a wooden cart, and the two survivors are forced up into the bed. Pipaluk stretches her wings walks over to the cart, peering down and recognizing the toungless human as the explorer who'd been so keen to question her.

“You learn in the name of your kin, yet you allow them to leave destruction wherever they go. Tell the others what happened here, but do not  forget why it has happened.”

He scrambles away from her, the ends  of his fingers split and bleeding under the splintered wood. Jaeberd snaps the reigns and the horses take off across the smoldering camp, toward the trail the humans cut through the forest to the coast where more of their kind will come on boats with supplies.

Pipaluk wanders through the camp as her kin gather the bodies to bury, a dishonor among her kin who send their own dead off in the talons of their steed so they can fly forevermore. Burial means a soul trapped beneath the dirt, unable to reach whatever end they seek.

She rifles through the tents, finding spices and gold coins among chests of leather books and spyglasses, among them a title called 'A Sorceress Comes to Call'. It is a rewrite of one of her favorite tales from her when her mother would read her bedtime stories, and she holds it close to her chest.

Her father recovers bags of flour and rice and even seeds for planting. They reunite just below the outcrop she'd climbed to escape.

“You will be a strong queen, Pipaluk.”

“I will protect our people from these humans to my dying breath.”

They take to the sky, this time on their own wings. Pipaluk spots the cart still racing among the trees and smiles to herself. Many years to come, when the humans no longer heed their wild counterparts, they will whisper of the Queen of the Wilds who protects the forest.

They won't know Pipaluk's name, though she’ll be synonymous with Mother Nature. Her fierce love for her people will make many fall before the might of the forest. For now though, she is but a fledgling princess, on the eve of her wedding to her father's right hand.

Jaeberd flies above her, so close their wing could touch. Pipaluk dips into a roll and Jaeberd follows her, twisting in the air so he's facing her.

“Your father is right, you will be a great queen.”

“And you? My lovesick protector?”

“Your sworn sword, your husband, your pet, whatever you wish to call me.”

“You've no want for a crown?”

“I've want for a quiet life in the peaks with a fledgling or two, but I'm marrying a queen and so I am not meant for a quiet life.”

“I am sorry I cannot give you such a life.”

“Do not apologize. Any life with you is life enough.”

They break out of the spiral just before they hit the ground, banking off to climb back to the flock's altitude. The cart reaches its port where it'll stay until a supply ship can take them. Pipaluk banks and leads the return to their forest, a queen leading her people home.

Word Count: 1499
Prompt 1, Part 1