Chapter XXIII

I need to write a book someday; it'll be titled: When Shit Hits the Fan, and it'll contain helpful tips from me on how to get out of situations only one percent of the population will probably ever get into. You know, for those unusual, zany moments. Like being in the clutches of a giant, monster bird who's flying higher and higher until you start to feel lightheaded. Yes, those annoying moments.

But in all seriousness, I'm hanging by the back of my shirt a thousand miles in the air!

The most important thing to me right now is staying conscious because the second I blackout is the instant I'm falling towards my death. Kind of sucks that I don't have any special equipment like air force pilots do, but hey, what should I expect being the grasp of a bloodthirsty bird?

I take calm, steady breaths, making sure my breathing isn't too shallow and quick or too rapid and deep- I need to find that balance. It might just be in my mind, but it honestly feels like it's working for me.

Finally, signaling with an ear-bleeding cry, the creature stops its ascent (good, I was worried it might take me up to heaven and I know they'd run me out on a rail up there).

Don't look down, don't look down, don't look-

It's like my falling-from-space-to-Earth-nightmare come true, except I won't wake up when I hit the ground.

This is how it's going to end, huh? I'm going to fall to my death bird style in a strange land being harassed by a freak who's kidnapped my brother. Speaking of Jack, what about him? What's going to happen to him if I don't survive? Am I just going to let that jerkwad Tymos win that easily?

Hell no.

I am not being taken out by freakin' Big Bird's reject brother, no, I'm getting myself out of this mess in order to save my brother, win this "game" (my competitive spirit lives), and make it to the Olympics.

Despite the noise going on around me, I'm able to hear the back of my shirt continue to tear- the only thing, and I mean only thing keeping me from falling to my death.

It's actually at this time, as I hang on by a literal thread, that I remember I still have my sword with me.

So, I'm not actually sure what my plan is with this, but that's never deterred me before. I get the sword out of its makeshift sheath, grip the bird's talon with one hand, then, with all my might plunge the sword into the center of the talon.

I have to say, I get it in there pretty good. The bird's high-pitched scream testifies to that fact.

Unfortunately, I underestimated the reaction that would result, and as the creature flaps around like a crazed lunatic, I lose my grip and feel the back of my shirt tear free.

It probably takes my brain a full second to figure out that I'm falling to my death and another second for a strangled scream to escape me. I hate my scream so I try never to use it, but I'm about to die so I might as well let the world hear my crappy yell.

There's still some part of me that believes I can survive this impact by finding a tree to break my fall. Yeah, I'll just try to fall into a tree that way I can break all my bones before hitting the ground. I'm AP material I tell ya.

As the top of the trees become closer and closer, I brace for impact...only to feel my body snap back by force. Opening my eyes, I see the treetops begin to shrink again as I'm pulled back up.

The creature seems to have recovered from my assault, which is a good and bad thing. Good because I'm still alive, bad because I've pissed it off.

This time, instead of keeping me in its clutches, I'm hanging by the back of my shirt in its beaked mouth. I mean, I'm definitely more secure, but the question is do I really want to be?

As if to answer that question, the bird takes a sharp turn straight up and opens its beak, nearly causing me to fall in. Managing to catch myself before falling into its mouth, I prevent myself from falling in by pressing my hands on either side of the beak, struggling to stay balanced as it continuously tries to shut its mouth and make me fall in.

While I'm having this wonderful struggle not to wind up as bird food, I remember that my sword is still lodged in its talon. Somehow, I have to get away from the mouth and retrieve the sword from the talon without falling again.

You know, when they claim impossible literally says I'm possible, I don't think they understand that we have the word impossible for a reason. We have it for a reason!

Being in front of the mouth means I get to experience the full eardrum shattering screech that it lets out and the foul bird breath that follows. I'm also praying the makeshift necklace I made to hold the ring my dad gave me doesn't fall off as I hang here.

In my struggle to prevent falling in, the bird keeps trying to snap its beak open and shut it repeatedly in an attempt to have me slip up. Unfortunately for me, I make a mistake and falter, causing my right hand to slip, meaning I start to fall in face first into its open mouth, but I stop myself by using my legs on either side to keep from fully falling in. In an effort to push myself back up and out of the mouth, I try using either side of the mouth but am only rewarded in a slick coating of bird slobber.

"Ew, shit."

Well, that eliminates that option.

Right now, my legs are the only thing keeping me from falling in. But, you know, the universe just does not like me for some reason, and the bird has begun to figure out that the way to cause me to drop is not to try and close its beak but to open it to the point where my legs won't be able to stretch- this thing is a bit too smart.

"No, no, no."

I fight desperately to stretch my legs so they stay on either side, but I'm starting to regret turning down gymnastics for track. Just as I feel as though I'm about to snap like a wishbone, the bird closes its mouth, causing my grip to slip and me to fall in.

Usually, this would mark the end of the journey here, but I'm more stubborn than an ass- I don't die unless I want to.

Tolerating the slimy sides of the mouth, I brace myself, preventing myself from falling any further. I also get a slight grip with my feet on either side but the traction isn't the best.

This bird's pretty damn persistent on me being its dinner and so it tries closing its mouth again only to meet my resistance. Though I slip further down trying to keep from being crushed, I managed not to be pulverized or swallowed. I have to get back right side up and to the surface again, though. In order for that to happen, I need to flip around so I'm able to start scaling up. So I'm either about to take a risk that'll pay off or a risk that'll make me look like an idiot, but either way I'm going through with it.

Just as I'm about to go through with my plan, I spot something- something I missed before. As the bird briefly opens its mouth, a flash of metallic momentarily blinds me, causing me to squint. Down below, lodged in the back of its throat is a shiny, golden object. Even as I hang upside down in the mouth of a killer bird, I still managed to be intrigued by the item and my first immediate thought- what other logical conclusion- is to try and retrieve it.

I know I won't be able to get it once I turn right side up again so I have to try and reach it now. Knowing my time is sparse, I allow myself to slide down closer to the back of the throat, not yet reaching down for it since that requires me to lose the control of one arm.

Just within reach for my long, lanky arm, I attempt to quickly pluck the object up.

Okay, alright, come to mama.

I'm not willing to get any closer so I strain to grip it- my fingers only brushing the metal.

Come on, come on, just a little closer...

With one final stretch that makes my shoulder feel like it might pop out of its socket, I retrieve the unknown item, not even bothering to inspect it since there are more pressing matters at hand- if you count being in the mouth of a monster-size bird a pressing matter.

Following through with my plan might be a bit harder since I'm now gripping an object in my hand, but I can't let the blood rush to my head any longer.

Without hesitation, I let my feet swing down quickly while I try to press my hands firmly against either side. My flip works and now I'm the right way up, better able to crawl out, but I've also slipped down even closer to the throat.

On top of that, I've run into another problem.

Although I'm the right side up, the inside of this mouth is still how you would imagine a mouth to be, slimy and slick with saliva so it proves just a tad bit challenging to gain some friction to scale my way out of here. Even if I try my hardest, all I'm going to be accomplishing is wearing myself out. First things first though, I quickly tuck the object into my pocket so both my hands are free.

"Okay, new plan needed, ASAP."

First thoughts: What do I have on me that might be useful? Answer to that: Not much. Second thought: What other way can I climb up this?

Before I can come up with an answer, I'm shut in. The creature has finally closed its beak completely, but it didn't crush me like I thought it would. Quarters do get a lot tighter and darker and it keeps trying to swallow me, but the tightness might actually benefit me.

Instead of scaling up like I've previously been doing, I try a new method.

Pressing my back against the slick side its mouth, I quickly adjust so both my feet are pushed out against the other side along with my outstretched arms.

I chuckle in relief that I didn't fuck this up. "Now we're cooking with fire."

I definitely feel a lot more secure in this position but it's all about practicability, how well can I actually climb?

Turns out, the saliva is a boost for me- who woulda thought? With a slick surface behind me, I'm able to glide right up, only having to worry about my hands and feet staying put. The higher I go, the better it is since it gets tighter and I'm able to have more stability that way.

By the time I'm at the highest point I can be, I only have one more major obstacle to figure out. How am I going to get it to open its mouth so I can slip out?

Thinking, thinking, thinking...

A fist to the mouth is all I can think of, and since I'm an act-now-think-later kind of person I see no issue slamming a fist upward in an effort to cause it to open its mouth. It doesn't work as it continues to keep its beak shut, but I try again, a little bit harder with my punch. Continuing to try and get it to open, I realize my punches are probably like a tickle in the throat to this creature so I abandon that avenue and try something else.

Seeing how my feet are the strongest things on me, I decide that a kick ought to do the trick. Of course, if I have to be mindful of not losing my position and slipping back down again. I make sure I'm properly wedged before lifting my right foot and kicking with all my might.

Either I've A) annoyed it enough, B) my feet did the trick, or C) a little of both because it finally opens up its mouth to let out another prolonged screech.

Without delay, I begin to pull myself out fully, but as I'm crawling out, the creature tries to prevent me once again. This time, though, I have the upper hand and make my way out before it's able to shut me in again.

Seeing as I'm not a girl with a plan who lives in the now, I haven't really thought about how I'm going to get to the sword then disembark off this thing without dying- just hadn't crossed my mind (guess maybe this'll be the last major hurdle to get over).

Seems even mystical creatures aren't immune to the fact of how easy it is to become annoyed at me. In agitation, the bird begins to flap wildly, trying to shake me off its beak like a bull in a rodeo. I must say, if all else fails, I can become a bull rider because I'm staying on pretty damn good seeing as I'm miles above solid ground. As impressive as I feel being able to stay on for this long, I know that I still have to retrieve that sword.

So, starting off slowly, I begin to slide down the bird's face and body towards its talon- yeah, I'm going with that option. But when I say slowly, I mean I lose my grip on the beak, fall down and break my fall by landing on its wing and now am being flapped about in an effort to be knocked off- that's what I consider "slow".

Though the wing does offer better gripping action, I'm getting dizzy- and sort of sick- being lifted up and down like I'm on some crazed amusement ride. If I'm ever going to get off this thing then I need for this dizzying experience to stop.

Groaning, I tighten my grip on the wing, causing the creature to cry out and suddenly dip to the right. Since I wasn't expecting that I, for the quickest second, lose my grip but quickly regain control as the bird straightens itself out. As close as that was, the gears in my head begin to turn and that light bulb above my head- that's usually broken- begins to brighten.

At first, this may sound like the most improbable, cartoonish thing ever, but if it works then I don't care how crazy it sounds. I think I can steer the bird, or at least cause it to drop a bit, by using the wing. Yes, sounds ludicrous but it might just pan out.

Putting all my effort into this, I tighten my grip. It's actually surprising to think my feeble human self can cause this creature enough pain and discomfort that it bends to my will, yet it somehow oddly works.

I grin.

"Now we're cooking with gas."

Back in the game, my eyes do a quick scan of where I might be able to steer this creature to. I try locating the cliff where it snatched me up, but in this feathery, chaotic blur I don't have time to figure it out. Right now, it's just act now think later.

So here I am, gripping the wing lightly at first before gradually increasing pressure. I realize, through my observation, that the more pressure used the steeper the dip. I remain firm even as the bird tries flapping me off, but I know that I can't keep a hold forever- I need to take drastic action.

Without a backup plan, without an inch of hesitation, without common sense, I squeeze the wing with all my might, causing the bird to fall from the sky with a tilt to the right like a fighter jet. The closer we get to the ground, the more the bird starts to panic, trying frantically to shake me off. I don't realize the speed we're falling at until we're almost to the ground, that's when I make the biggest dumbass mistake of my life.

Usually, the bird would just correct itself, but we're too close to impact for any last minute redemption act, and in trying to brace for impact, I let my grip go slightly on the wing but it's just enough to have me flying through the air again when the bird flaps its wing in the last few seconds.

I almost made it to solid ground again, albeit coming down from a rocky flight, but still!

There I am, airborne for several seconds- which feels like an eternity- before gravity does its thing and the urge to piss myself take over. Closing my eyes, I brace for impact.

I feel the light brush of leaves against my skin as I fall through the canopy of trees, though I haven't really hit any branches surprisingly. I'm just about to open my eyes when suddenly, I smack down and sink into something soft.

Honestly, falling into that pond when I first landed here hurt more than this impact. Sitting up and opening my eyes, I figure out why.

My guardian angel deserves a promotion or something.

Instead of the hard, unforgiving ground, I managed to land in a swampy mud pit that offered me cushioning upon impact. My body sunk into the mud like silly putty. It still stings a little, but not as bad as breaking that water tension. Heck, I don't even care that I'm now caked in mud- I'm alive!

After taking a minute or two to recuperate, I get myself up out of the mud and wade my way to dry land.

I'm going to need a bath and a chiropractor after this episode.

As I shake off the excess mud, a strangled screech up ahead catches my attention. Hurrying a few good feet ahead, I find where the creature has landed, and let me tell you, it wasn't as smooth a landing as mine.

The once intimidating, noisy bird is now flattened out on the ground, crushing the trees it happened to land. One of its wings- the right one coincidentally- is clearly broken, seeing how mangled and gruesomely twisted it is.

Since I don't work for PETA, I could care less that this creature might die a slow painful death here- it earned it after all the crap it put me through. Instead of staring at it, I go to its talons, locate the one with a sword sticking out of it and without hesitation yank it out, causing the creature to release another hoarse cry.

Inspecting my sword, I'm surprised it was still wedged in there, even after the fall, but hey, I'm not complaining.

Walking away from the sight, my next concern is finding my way back up to the top where the others are, presumably, still waiting for me. Even if they saw this crash- which, if they didn't they might need to reevaluate the need to invent stronger glasses- it would take them a little to haul it down to where I am, time I can't afford to waste.

If they find me they find me, if they don't they don't, simple enough. Yeah, yeah, Tymos' stupid little game still stands but at this point, I honestly am not looking to win the humanitarian award, I'm just trying to save my brother in time.

Pausing, I recognize that it's probably not the best idea to just wander about aimlessly with no destination, but I'm at least not on that cliff anymore without a clue of where-

Like an answer from heaven, a familiar pair of ghostly footprints begins leading the way in front of me, it's past prints gradually fading away like sand on the beach.

Oh, yeah, my guardian angel needs to be promoted to archangel status after this.

Forgetting about everything else and not wanting to lose the prints, I begin to follow it closely. I guess in the end, that bird did do me a favor; I got off that cliff and the footprints have returned.

Even with my adrenaline gradually dying down, I keep up with the prints, determined not to lose them anymore.

I will say one thing, I'm not messing around with any birds for a while.

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