I grunted, frustrated at myself. Why did I keep losing my focus? My whiskers twitched in irritation and I scanned the sky. Maybe my instincts knew better than I did. There might be a threat lurking nearby.
Whenwasn'tthere a possible threat lurking nearby?
I squinted at the sunny blue sky. Nothing.
I turned my gaze to the trees surrounding me. No rustling of owl feathers, no gleaming cat eyes, no smoothly gliding snakes...
I checked the forest floor beneath me. No wolves circling, obviously—why the hell would a wolf waste its time and energy on a mouse?
There was absolutely nothing to suggest a predator was nearby.
So why was I antsy?
"Ugh, whatever," I muttered to myself, adjusting my grip on the handle. "Just focus."
I shifted my feet, getting into a better stance, then swung the sword. The sun's reflection glinted off the edge of the steel like a blinding beacon. It always made me feel powerful when that happened, like I had the ability to channel the sun itself.
Just as I smiled proudly at the blade, a large shadow flitted overhead.
Upon the first scent of danger, every mouse shifter’s first instinct is to freeze. Unfortunately, that's often the worst thing to do. My dads taught me to push past the urge as much as possible and instead take in my surroundings to formulate the best plan of action.
But when you're actually in a dangerous situation, it's almost impossible not to freeze up.
That's what I was doing now as the shadow got bigger. Closer.
My heart pounded as I forced myself to look up.
At first I thought it was panic scrambling my brain, making it difficult to decipher whatever the creature was. It wasn't quite a bird, not quite a human, and it made zero sense. I realized quickly that it wasn't me—the creature, whatever it was, was simply a freak of nature.
A freak of nature that was rapidly coming right towards me.
I gritted my teeth, refusing to let out a squeak of alarm. As hard as it was to suppress the instinct, the sound of a mouse in distress would only draw more attention to me. Every predator in the area wanted a taste of me.
The bird-man swooped in, talons outstretched.
My paws tightened on the sword. I swung it up in an arc with a ferocious cry—or at least, as much of a ferocious cry as a mouse can muster.
The freak of nature squawked, drawing its talons back. I smirked. It obviously didn't expect a mouse to fight back.
"Leave, if you know what's good for you!" I called.
Was my voice squeaky and not at all intimidating? Yes. Good thing I could let the sword do the talking. I swung again, slicing the air beneath the creature's feet.
I thought I heard it swear under its breath and mutter something about not thinking this would be so difficult.
I glared at the creature, gripping the sword close to my chest in a ready stance. No way was I going down without a fight. I almost wished my dads could see me now, fighting off some aerial abomination all by myself.
Suddenly much faster than before, the winged man-creature moved in a blur of blue. I whirled around, trying to keep up with it, but its wingspan was wide and strong, creating powerful gusts of wind in its wake that threatened to knock me off the branch. I cried out and fell on my chest, clinging to the rough bark with one paw and clutching the sword with the other.
I gasped. The sword was meant to be wielded with two paws. It was too heavy for just one.
Grunting with effort, I battled against the gusting air from the creature's wing beats and reached for the handle with both paws. Using my back feet, I dug my nails into the bark as hard as possible to keep myself stabilized.
Just a bit closer…
The man-bird swooped in close enough for me to see his face. He looked smug, like he knew he was going to win this fight no matter what. He reached for my sword with sharp bird talons that were longer than my entire body, from the tip of my nose to the tip of my tail.
Fury engulfed me. Who did this guy think he was?Nobodytouched my sword.
