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Buzzard Wasps. 

Their vulture-like heads and bee-striped bodies were unmistakable, the sand-colored sunlight glinting off their sharp talons and razor beaks. Normally, they were scavengers, content to feast on whatever the desert left behind, but these were closing in, a spiraling cloud of wings and shadow, their hum like a warning growing louder by the second.

Sal took a slow breath, grounding himself on the warm, gritty sand beneath his feet. He wasn't even nervous. Not yet. He'd faced worse. Still, the wasps kept spiraling downward, each pass drawing them closer, their formation tightening like a death knot.

"Fine," he muttered. "If they want a fight, I'll give them one."

As the first wasp dove, he dropped to his knees, letting the sand envelop him, sinking just enough for it to mask him from above. He concentrated, feeling his breath slip through the sand with his meager Airbending ability—just enough to draw in air, steadying his pulse.

Under the sand, he felt a fleeting flicker of wonder; even now, with his limited skill, he'd found a way to make it work. It wasn't anything impressive, not like true Airbending, and you'd once explained to him that practice wouldn't do much to change that. But right now, it was enough.

Above, he felt the soft thuds as some of the wasps landed, their sharp heads darting about, searching. He pressed his fingers deeper into the sand, feeling the fine grains compact and condense with his will. A strange clarity seized him as he managed to harden a handful of sand into jagged stones, rough but deadly.

(Sal roll - 87 + 40 (power dif + clever strat) = 127 / Crit)

(Wasps roll - 55)

With a snap of his wrist, he launched the stones upward. They tore through the sand and burst into the air, meeting exoskeleton with an echoing crack. Wings snapped with a sickening crunch, and the wasps above scattered in disarray, their formation shattered. A few managed to keep buzzing, darting to and fro, but Sal's aim was precise. Each stone struck like a bullet, one by one dropping them to the sand, helpless and twitching.

(Earthbending : lvl 10 ->lvl 11)

He could almost smirk. They were more like flies at this point than a threat.

The wasps that dared to dive into the sand itself in an attempt to dig him out didn't last long either. 

With each movement, Sal twisted his wrist, his makeshift projectiles ripping through their frail bodies as they spiraled down, shattered wings spread wide like fallen leaves.

Just as he took down the last one, a shiver coursed through the ground. Sal tensed, shifting his eyes in the distance, and saw the rest of the swarm descending upon his ostrich horse. The poor thing had tried to run away. 

(Ostrich h. Roll - 21)

(Wasps roll - 87)

In a frenzy, they dug their talons into its flesh, tearing at it with sharp, hungry beaks. The poor creature screeched, eyes rolling in fear as it tried to break free, hooves thrashing in the sand. Sal felt a surge of anger, his fists clenching beneath the sand, but there was nothing he could do from that distance as the wasps lifted it skyward, a grotesque prize carried off into the fading light.

He lay still, watching in silence as the swarm grew smaller and smaller, his mount's terrified cries fading until they were just echoes swallowed by the desert.

Only when he was sure they were gone did he surface, pushing up from the sand and brushing the grit from his skin. The world was sinking into twilight, the sky streaked in shades of orange and purple, the wasps now little more than specks against the deepening horizon. He shot a few pebbles their way, a half-hearted gesture as he watched them disappear.

A faint crunch underfoot caught his attention. He glanced down to see the broken remains of a wasp carcass, its twisted limbs splayed across the sand, wings cracked and mangled.

"They don't usually go after live prey," he muttered to himself, nudging it with his toe. The sand was littered with scattered remnants of his supplies, sacks overturned and contents strewn about. A quick search confirmed his suspicions—they'd raided most of his food, leaving only crumbs and an empty sack. At least his water was untouched. Small mercies, he thought, taking a sip to steady himself.

The desert had returned to silence, the droning hum of the swarm now just a memory. Sal looked over the dunes, feeling the first cool brush of night air against his skin, the last rays of sunlight glinting off the sand.

"You've gotten a bit stronger," you said to him, your voice breaking the quiet.

Sal's mouth quirked into a smile.