[rework] Minglings - chapter 34: Competition

Two days after he had managed to kill three of the terror birds, Mason was hiding on the beach of terror bird island once again. With a full stomach and mostly healed wounds, his mood had vastly improved compared to the last time he was here.

It's like a game! Kill all the small birds to get strong enough to kill the bigger ones, and finish with the boss! he thought with a grin.

His gaze was firmly locked on King Peacock as he decided to name the King of the terror birdies.

You just stay right there! I'll be ready for you after I thin your flock a bit more!

Mason darted around the boulders and across the pebble and stone-strewn beach as he hoped his plan would work. He was going to do the same thing as before; catch something, make a racket, flee, and hopefully draw along some of the birds. What was that called again? Kiting? No, that was something else.

Instead of going in half-assed again, he skirted along the edge of the forest, moving from one side of the moon-shaped island to the next. There was a rocky outcrop without any cover on each end, leaving him with no safe way to check what was on the hollowed-out side of the island. Flying there, the birds would instantly see him, and he had no interest in going into the dark waters.

That left the area ahead of him: nothing but mangroves, moss, and a few dangerous-looking mushrooms. The green and orange colored bulbous things were scattered across the deadwood and exuded a pungent, almost chemical scent that told Mason to stay far away. Definitely, not edible.

Seeing nothing dangerous ready to jump him, he left the beach and snuck across the root-covered mangrove floor. It didn't take him long to find a good hiding spot, a low, thick branch that hung above an area almost devoid of roots. Anything that would move below would be easy to jump.

Let's hope it doesn't take hours again, Mason thought.

He crouched down and prayed, to no god in particular, for abundant prey. Thirty minutes later, another centipede, smaller than the first but still enormous, slithered along the edge of a tree. It wasn't close enough to jump and didn't move toward him. When it seemed ready to disappear into the chaotic, slimy undergrowth, Mason cursed, carefully climbed down to a lower branch, and made his way along it.

Holding his breath, he crawled above the black slithering monstrosity without alerting it.

The centipede looked around, then moved another step just below him. Mason jumped down, aiming for the spot just behind its head. He was twice as heavy as the centipede, but it started bucking so wild that it almost tossed him off. As he bit down into the back of its neck, he felt his teeth slide across the soft materials as the screeching and whining sound of metal on metal came from between his teeth. It wasn't just the sound. His jaws hurt, and he felt like he bit on a solid piece of iron.

The centipede curled upon itself with a sudden motion that ripped it from Mason's sore mouth. Free, it uncurled immediately and turned, trying to wrap its disgustingly slimy, many-limbed body around Mason.

As he felt the tiny, barbed feet on his scales, Mason attempted to grab the thing's tail, but the mud had made it slippery. He panicked as the body slithered around his back and started to tighten its grip.

No longer caring about his previous plans, he wanted to torch it. Struggling, he couldn't get a clear view. With a low growl, he reared up and slammed his back against roots. Something cracked below him, but the coils wrapped even tighter, now starting to constrict his breathing.

"Let. Go. Of. Me," he hissed, continuing to slam himself against the roots.

After what had to be a dozen times, he finally felt the thing's grip slowly weaken, and his fear faded slightly.

A flicker in the corner of his eye made his blood curl. Another centipede was slithering forward, and this one a whole lot bigger than his current adversary.

Are you kidding me?

Growling deep in his throat, Mason straightened up, ignoring the now limp centipede on his back as he took a deep breath.

A column of fire struck the incoming centipede, causing its black eyes to pop like boiling grapes. The flesh between the mandibles began warping as the scorching flames licked across, and it stopped, slamming its head into the soft mud, flicking it back and forth to get rid of the pain.

Mason stepped back, out of breath but not at all surprised, when a loud screech came from the top of the mountain. The terror birds had seen the sudden fire.

He ignored the centipede that was now bucking and rampaging in what he hoped were its death throes and scraped his back against a root to dislodge his unwanted passenger. One end of the centipede loosened, and he bit into the dangling tail end, ripping and tugging. As he did, he noticed that the golden scales the centipede had touched had dulled and scratched, small pockmarks covering most of them.

Mason ripped the centipede away with a disgusted snarl. It was still twitching, showing it was alive, just knocked out. He grabbed the front end with his claws. Ripping the centipede's plates open took all of his strength and awoke the dazed creature, but before it could resist, he rammed his claw inside the wound. As his long sharp nails dug through flesh and organs, the centipede shuddered, then stopped moving.

Before he could feel victorious, the sounds of flapping wings came from above.

He winced and looked up through the thick cover of leaves. Dozens of terror birds swirled around in the sky, staring at him with their creepy yellow eyes.

Seriously, can anything else go wrong?

He hadn't even finished the thought when a scraping sound came from nearby. The larger of the two centipedes, its front halfway melted and its eyes-sockets hollow, was skittering towards him.

Well, the birds already know I'm here anyway, Mason thought, before sending out another burst of flame that torched the centipede.

The heavily mutilated thing reared up, shuddered, then slumped into the mud, motionless.

Mason turned his full attention to the birds while wondering if he should grab the smaller centipede and get out. A quick look back at the beach caused him to freeze.

Dozens of terror birds sat perched on the boulders, staring at him. He would never get out that way, and up wasn't an option.

"You know what? Come down here if you want me that bad, you lot of overgrown chickens!" Mason snapped as his anger flared again.

He pulled the centipede close and ripped plates from its back to get to the meat. With utter disregard for the birds, he started chewing.

Let's see you come down here! I'll burn your tail feathers off!

--

When night finally fell, turning the shadowy area below the trees pitch black, the birds finally left for their mountain. They had seemed afraid and unwilling to enter the mangrove forest, something that had annoyed Mason to no end. It meant he could have just remained there the first time instead of fleeing like a dog.

The annoyance had quickly faded, though, and he grinned nastily as he followed the crimson outlines of the retreating terror birds until they grew small and were no more than glowing coals on the dark mountainside.

Heat vision? Jake's going to be so jealous, he thought. It also meant that from now on, he was going to hunt during the night. I wonder if red and golden dragons are nocturnal predators, like owls.

He wondered about many things, sitting on the roots and slowly devouring both of the centipedes. For instance, why did the centipedes taste like crap, but the birds like poultry? And why had eating the birds made him grow a foot while eating the centipedes did little more than fill his stomach?

I wonder if Jake knows? Probably not. He shook his head and moved towards the beach. It was time to head back to the volcano island; the abundance of red energy should heal his damaged scales. Or so he hoped.

--

"Get back here!' Mason's roared as he shot forward, chasing three fleeing terror birds. Behind him was the small volcanic island, with four unmoving bird shapes lying on the ground.

In the two weeks since his scuffle with the centipedes, he had baited almost half the flock of terror birds into following him, killing and eating them, and had nearly doubled in size. His speed had also increased, and as he rushed after the retreating birds, he wondered if today was the day.

He opened his mouth when he was a dozen feet from his first target and 'burped' quickly. Like a rocket, a ball of fire and energy shot through the air and cannoned into the bird's back. It screeched, then spiraled down to the sea.

Mason ignored it and quickly overtook the other two. If he could bring them down, this would mark the first time none managed to flee back to the island!

It proved almost too easy. The addition of the fast-moving fireballs to his arsenal made him the perfect air-to-air killer, he thought gloatingly.

The last of the birds let out a gurgling scream from having its wing explode, and Mason dove after it. He grabbed it in his hind legs just before it could disappear into the deep dark waters. The bird's body skidded across the surface before he managed to gain altitude, and he shuddered as he pictured some massive fish or shark shooting up and gobbling them both up.

He was glad when he was high up again, and now feeling more than a little great, he headed back to his volcano island, dropping the dead bird next to the ones he'd killed there.

With practiced ease, he used a thin torrent of flame to burn off the feathers. Then he slowly roasted the first dead terror bird. Though he could eat the things raw, he'd found that charring them a little seemed to ease his digestion. Besides, they tasted better that way! When the juices flowed freely, and a heavenly scent spread, he couldn't hold back anymore. Drooling, he ripped a large portion of meat from one of the wings.

Halfway through the bird his stomach was still unsatisfied, like some bottomless pit.

No matter how much I eat, I'm always hungry! I hope this won't stay like this forever, or I'll be the scourge of the land, he thought with a worried frown.

Meat juices ran down the bottom of his jaw as he absentmindedly scratched at the scales on his flank, pulling off some old dull ones and revealing healed scales. Most of the damage done to his skin had healed, but he could still see where the centipede had harmed him. Not that he worried much. As he grew, the scales had become more durable, and the birds barely left scratched on the thicker ones on his back anymore.

When he finished all the birds, bones, and all, he glided into the volcano. He needed rest and found that he slept best next to a pool of lava. As he curled up on the lowest ridge inside the volcano, the heat permeated through his body. Combined with his full belly, he fell into a pleasant slumber.

--

Jake moved along the interconnected branches of the jungle like a silent predator. Keeping his prey in sight, he stayed as far back as possible.

His target, a human-sized Insectoid, scuttled across some moldy wood on all four, taking a bite out of something that looked like a day-old rotten fruit.

Disgusting.

He had been stalking this thing for two days now, and if he didn't find something useful today, he would have to go back empty-handed. Without him in camp, the others became restless, and Garry kept kicking up trouble.

Bolyr would just have to put him in his place. Again. The memory of Garry's surprised and angry shouts when Bolyr dragged him to the tree and hung him upside down from some vines brought a smile to his face. One of the few since Mason had changed.

Ahead of him, the Insectoid, covered in a black and green exoskeleton, took a sudden turn through the side of the dense jungle, disappearing from view.

Jake frowned, not moving closer yet.

Ever since he had found it and followed it in the hopes of finding out where the rest of them were hiding, it had been acting carefree and without direction. Had it noticed him?

Looking around, he saw a thick vine growth joining the trees in the direction the Insectoid had dashed. Ready to jump and flee at a moment's notice, he climbed across the lush and hairy branches. There was an odd moss covering the branch, and feeling the carpet-like sensation between his taloned limbs, he was momentarily distracted as he pictured cultivating some for their growing living quarters.

Mind on the task, he snapped at himself, focusing back on the spot the Insectoid had vanished.

In front of him was a thick wall of purplish leaves, and as carefully as he could, he snuck through, trying not to rustle any leaves. Any idea of interior decorating fled his mind when he saw the sight beyond.

A vast lake of crystal clear water lay in front of him, with a single green island in the middle like a beautiful emerald. In the middle of the plant-covered island stood an imposing heart-tree, one almost as large as their current base, and it covered the isle like an umbrella. How had he not spotted this from up in the air?

His attention was drawn to a slight movement in the water. The Insectoid was swimming straight for the island, holding its head above the water and stopping every now and again to look back at the jungle's edge.

Jake remained hidden, watching as it reached the shore, climbed out, and disappeared into the island's dense vegetation.

He waited for a while, but nothing happened. Had he finally found where those nasty things were hiding? He wasn't sure, but if it were, they had chosen a poor place, he thought as he smirked at the water. There were even a few small canals flowing away in the general direction of the sea. The corners of his maw curved up further in a bad imitation of a human grin, and after a last look at the island, he turned and disappeared into the foliage.

--

The colder air swirled around Mason's head as he looked down at the spec that was terror bird island. The sun shone on his back and wings, but its heat made barely any difference at this altitude, and he shivered.

I am definitely not going to be living anywhere cold anymore, he thought.

Trying to ignore the shivering, he double-checked his position and nodded to himself. This should be the perfect angle to blind any birds that might look up. He glided down, feeling like an apex predator.

Weeks had passed since he woke up on this island in the middle of nowhere, and the birds had finally learned to stop chasing him. Although it gave him a deep feeling of power and control, more than ever before, it also posed a problem.

He needed to grow in size and strength before he could even think about flying beyond these small islands. And for that, he needed food—lots of it.

When he had descended low enough for the air to feel warm to his body, he saw King Peacock sitting on the top of the mountain. It constantly rotated its two ugly brown and gray heads, scanning the island's dense forest below. Of his once-mighty flock of terror birds, only a handful remained, huddled as close to him as they dared.

Shouldn't have gone chasing after me in such small groups. Now there's not enough of you left! Mason thought as he felt a bloodthirst and desire for wanton slaughter bubble up from deep within.

Instead of shoving it away, he analyzed it closely, trying to determine its origin. It wasn't the first time he felt it, and he knew he needed to figure out what was going on before he lost his mind. One of the birds screeched, and he pushed his curiosity away. This wasn't the time for introspective..

Keeping a mental eye on his emotional stability, a knack he had learned as a boy, he focused his full attention on King Peacock. He was close enough to see some leftover bones lying on the perch behind the bird.

He waited until he was above the King, then folded his wings and dove down like a hawk. He prepared both his fire and his hind legs. As he plummeted down, he wished again that he could just kill the bird from the air. But he might not be able to kill the King with a single shot, and he had no idea of its abilities yet. It might be faster than him or able to shoot back. No. He couldn't risk it getting away. He needed the meat!

A few dozen feet before he reached King Peacock, its left head looked up, and its yellow eyes widened.

Too late, buddy!

Before it could so much as squawk Mason slammed into it, his heavily muscled back legs pointing forward like he'd seen birds of prey attack. His talons sliced into the monstrous King's curled-up wings, ripping one apart at the joint as he latched onto its back.

A loud screech caused his ears to pop and his head to almost burst. It sounded like dozens of alarms that went off simultaneously, and suddenly everything was hidden behind a dense gray fog. Feeling woozy, he tried to focus, but something struck against the side of his head before he could react. Gripping the feathery coat in blind panic, he barely managed to hold on. Dark gray areas covered his vision, effectively blinding him, and he shook his head to try and rid himself of them.

A gray smudge moved in the corner of his eye, and he ducked his head. Something shot passed him, nicking his folded wings. His head almost touched the back of the bird, and slowly his sight cleared. He was looking straight at the base of the bird's necks. Without hesitating, he opened his maw and spat fire.

A second screech caused his vision to go completely black. Muddled and praying he was hitting, he kept spraying fire in front and below his feet. The bird screeched, softer this time, and he felt something sharp slide across the side of his neck. His scales bent dangerously but held. Then something cannoned into his side, almost dislodging him. Mason scrambled for a hold with his front legs. Below him, King stomped, flapped, and bucked to get him off. As the movements got more and more extreme, Mason finally couldn't hold on anymore.

With talons full of feathers, he was flung off and landed with a heavy thud on the hard stone. Without waiting, he turned his almost blind gaze toward the bird's frantic sounds and blasted as much fire as he could. He didn't bother to form it and let it rip in a massive cone in front of him. Slowly the orange glow of his fire filtered through whatever it was the bird had done to him. The torrent of flame was pinning King Peacock against the stone wall behind him; its feathers and skin burned to a crisp. It still made some soft croaking sounds, but as Mason's vision returned in full, he saw the left head begin to crumble.

His mind was still woozy, but he suddenly realized it wasn't from what the King was doing. He was overexerting himself and would faint if he didn't stop! He closed his mouth with a snap, stopping the fire. As soon as he did, he slumped to the ground, drawing ragged gulps of air. His stomach felt like it was trying to curl up on itself from hunger. A loud thud came as the remains of King slid to the ground.

Mustering the little energy he had, Mason crawled forward. He needed to eat right now, or the smaller birds would come to finish him off.

Dragging his body forward, he reached the almost cremated remains of King Peacock. The smaller birds weren't anywhere in sight, but that didn't mean they weren't ready to attack him.

As he focused on his kill, he saw that none of the feathers had survived the sea of flames, molten to disgusting black tar-like globs. Ignoring the filthy stuff, he bit into the big bird's body, digging through the crisp outer layer before ripping off pieces of meat and swallowing them whole. The still-steaming flesh slid down his throat, and when it hit his stomach, it was as if fuel got added to a flagging fire.

Mason reared up on his hind legs, his muscles cramping and bulging as molten metal seemed to be injected into his veins. His body grew so fast he could feel new scales appear to fill gaps. With a snarl, he dropped back and continued ravaging the corpse.

When he finally got his faculties back, all that remained of King Peacock were bones, feathers, and a single hindleg. With a glance, he bit down on the hindleg and began chewing on the bone, gnawing the slivers of meat off before cracking it with his strong jaws and licking out the marrow. Finished, he tossed the remnants on the pile and stretched himself.

Time to wrap up here and leave, he thought.