Chapter 4

The longer he waited, the more bored Will became.

As the sun rose into the sky, its heat baring down onto the surrounding trees, the urge to move itched its way into his feathers.

'What are the chances of an ambush?' Will scanned the ground below thoroughly, 'the bushes, maybe?'

The bushes swayed gently in the morning breeze.

Carefully, he popped out of his cosy resting place, eyes glued to the forest floor. Will stretched his little wings and talons, but despite the relaxed emotion he displayed, there was this feeling within him.

It fed his better judgement.

With a smooth whisk of his wing, a feather punctured the air, whistling into a bush.

A pang of relief reached Will, but there were many bushes, and he had many feathers.

Each bush rustled as a feather disappeared into it, and with each one, Will grew less anxious and calmer.

When he heard a groan, Will took a moment to register it before staring at the bush where he threw his most recent feather.

A voice in pain.

He knew it.

Out of the leaves, crawled a pokémon.

Scars over its purple fur.

Will's eyes cranked open at the wincing Rattata, a feather lodged into its side. It crawled, each movement pain in itself. The sun shined down on the normal type, revealing the trickling blood rolling down its scars.

'Kill...or be killed...'

As the Rattata revealed itself in the open, wailing in its agony, Will raised a wing. He was shocked with himself. However, there was no other choice.

For him to survive, Will had to get his talons wet.

So, with a trembling aim, the Rattata became his target. There was a slight hesitation, for the normal type shared its gaze with his. As he flicked his wing, Will shut his eyes a moment later.

The throw was heavy.

It was as if it were the tree he flung at, but as the feather zoomed at an arc, Will would soon learn one thing.

A tree never bleeds.

In a single flash, the Rattata ceased all movement. One could blink and miss the very second its life slipped from its skin, but Will didn't. He saw, with pale eyes, as the feather plunged into the pokémon's skull, its head jiggled a bit on a loose neck, and the body fell back, like a puppet without its strings.

Lifeless.

Breathing with difficulty, Will glared at the now-dead Rattata, the reality settling in like cupping one's hands around a hot mug of tea.

He looked at his wings.

The wings of a murderer.

'Kill. Or be killed,' No matter how he felt, Will had to remind himself, 'Great, I can't think straight,'

Another glance at the body, and he immediately covered his beak.

'No vomit,' Will sighed, 'yet, I killed someone,'

He shook his head.

'There's no time to sulk,' He eyed his surroundings, 'they know I'm here,'

Shifting on the branch, Will tensed up.

'Does this mean...' He inhaled sharply, '...they are here, too?'

The sight of the body once again made Will squirm. He wanted to take to the air and soar away from this carnage, but he didn't.

Memories accompanied him.

'There's a lot of bushes,' Will studied the clear area around the roots, 'but none near this tree,'

Now that he thought about it, he recalled the high amount of bushes not only here, but by the road.

'As obvious as the colour of the sky,' he sighed, rolling his left shoulder, 'but I understand how they ambushed that Vulpix,'

Will hopped to another branch.

'Wait,' He pondered, a wing below his beak, 'can they climb?'

Again, he looked around, checking to see if there was any way for a certain attack.

'Nowhere to rush in,' Will sighed, blinking, 'an ambush is their best bet,'

From where he rested, there was no way they could sneak up on him, and even if he can't or misses with his feather blades, Will has wings.

Wings...

'My best bet is staying up here,' He fiddled with his feathers, trying to combat his overwhelming stress, 'it's stupid to give up an advantage,'

Without truly knowing their whereabouts, Will had to do some waiting.

He tightened his feet on the branch, his patience at an all-time high. From what he heard, the group was desperate, and in desperate times, there were calls for desperate measures.

It didn't take long for the group of four to arrive.

Fortunately, Will saw them before they scampered into the bushes, leaving the corpse in the dust.

'Kill, or be killed,' While his body reacted in an adrenaline spike, Will repeated this phase in his head, 'It's them or me.'

A soft breeze made him shiver.

Like the second hand of a clock, Will's eyes ticked to each available bush, trying to catch one out. His wings were ready. His talons were ready.

But, was Will ready?

The kill he committed began to wager into his concentration. Despite that, there was really no way the group could ambush Will, even if they tried, and it would mean certain death if he flew down and tried to take them on.

It was a stalemate.

Or was it?

Will quickly flapped higher into the tree.

The only evidence the Raticate and Rattata had was the numerous feathers and marks evident on the wood. They knew there was someone, but not how many. Maybe they did know Will was alone, and he's just trying to delude himself into thinking he one-upped them.

In fact, he was worried if they heard the vigorous beating of his wings.

Nonetheless, Will settled in a higher part of the tree, hoping he was hidden.

'One versus four,' The leaves shook with the wind as he adjusted himself, 'I know that, but do they?'

From his position, Will saw the distance from the other trees.

'Bullseye,'

He readied his wings, preparing for his plan.

Whether or not his idea was crazy or suicide, it could break the stalemate.

As Will studied each bush, he improved his strategy.

From the large space of bushes and tall grass the group hid in, if they had to run to the other ones, he could one-hundred per cent see them.

The open space was large enough for a pokémon to blow their cover if they were to rush to the next swath of grass.

After a few quick yet deep breaths, Will had to execute it.

'Please,' He looked to the sky, 'let lady luck be with me!'

In a complete frenzy, Will unleashed a barrage of feathers and peppered the line of bushes below. He didn't care if they hit or not. There needed to be a lot.

Will dashed away.

Onto the tree to his left.

There, another wave of feather blades rained down.

As they did, Will realised he had a move fit for this situation.

He fired himself back to the scarred tree and wasted no time.

In a flash, Will landed and delivered a quick swing of his wings, pounding the air like drums.

A gust of wind collapsed onto the battered target.

However, not only was the wind weak, but it did nothing but rattle the leaves on the bushes, similar to a calm breeze.

Not wasting a moment, he soared to the tree on the other side.

On repeat, Will sent in more feathers.

For a full minute, feathers whisted in and sliced into the bushes second after second after second. It looked almost like a porcupine.

By the time a Rattata flew out of the space full of feathers, Will was exhausted.

Luckily, in his continuous bombardment, Will would fire a projectile its way.

The normal type dropped like a fly as the feather sliced into its neck. It tumbled into a bush. Half its body was exposed.

This was good.

However, Will had no time to react.

He made his way quickly into the middle tree, hiding as much as he could.

All Will could do was breathe heavily. His wings ached, and his mind was wild with energy.

When he drew enough breath, he saw, from the twigs and sticks, a purple head.

It stared in horror at the Rattata that lay flat on its stomach. Its leg twitched as blood began to drip from the wound in its neck.

There was no time to waste.

As if he were a machine gun, Will laid waste to the vegetation once again, preventing any type of movement for escape.

To switch things up, he made his way back to the tree on his left.

But, as he rushed to the tree on his right, Will needed to breathe.

He had rained down so many feathers he was sure they outnumbered the very leaves still standing.

Once Will reached the other tree, he was filled to the brim with sweat and emotion.

There were three left.

Sitting on the branch, seeing the massacre of the foliage, Will needed to switch up. Fast.

'What now?' He huffed, his round body expanding with each deep inhale, 'Come on, think,'

By now, Will had used many of his feathers, he could fly but there was no telling when he would run out. The last remaining enemies are still in hiding, too.

While he pondered, Will turned his head.

His eyes turned white with fear.