Kit Stuff

She’d do it for Misty. She had long since decided that - if you considered just the previous night a long made decision. Either way, Jackal was determined to trudge through these books. For their sake.

Having a noble cause didn’t make it much easier, though.

The floral way the Church of Sulfur had chosen to record some of these “birds” was a pain. What was wrong with just saying what they meant? Why did everything have to be compared to like, five other things? As if each descriptor needed a length thesaurus entry, alternative points of view, a poem among facts, to be re-examined, or a new reality? Weren’t they looking for facts?

Not all the books or records were like that. It probably had something to do with the individual demon or person donating the story.

All the same, Jackal didn’t stop herself from scoffing where she felt necessary. She was just about fed up with this particular book. If she wasn’t so devoted or curious, she might’ve taken a break.

One more entry, she insisted to herself as she flipped the page.

Only a few lines in, her ears pricked with a vague interest. None of the creatures the stories had described felt like they could be real, beyond any of their limited similarities to corvats or the new avia. That said, though, these birds were even more unreal.

While most birds she’d read about sang their little songs and pecked at seeds, this entry was about something much more frightening. A huge bird that often had pale feathers - Jackal thought briefly of the feather that Mercy now clutched - that had a plethora of weapons built in. All the other birds had given Jackal the impression that they were soft, sort of useless creatures. This thing, though...

It didn’t sing. It screeched. While most birds favored the day, these prowled the night “skies”. Silent, steady, with vision that knew no bounds. As the book described them, they could snatch a bun completely unawares to make a quick snack of them. They sometimes spoke, played with the minds of their prey, and were stealthy.

Did Misty... survive an owl?

The whole situation was already so strange, and these descriptors made the hair on the back of Jackal’s neck stand up. She could even feel the slight prickling of her ears and tail. No, no, if there were an owl prowling Burrowgatory, there would be buns missing. There was no way it could be making a meal of people and not be on anyone’s radar.

She felt confident in this assessment as she continued to read. Succubuns who wander too far off from their demon caretakers often fall prey to owls, who can easily carry off a pair and come back later for seconds. They are insatiable creatures with a penchant for an easy meal.

That had to be a confirmation. This was just a stupid story that demons made up to scare kids into behaving. Jackal sighed in relief, releasing the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“It’s just a coincidence,” she murmured to herself, stretching with a feigned nonchalance. Besides, she added mentally, there’s no way that feather is big enough to belong to something like that. If owls were real and in Burrowgatory, that thing would’ve been bigger than my head.

Satisfied with her rationale, she sat up and leafed over to the next chapter. Something called eagles. Huh. Well, hopefully they’d have some useful information for her. As interesting as the owls had been, the only use they’d had was to make her more alert. Not really any information she could use to solve this little mystery.

Popping her knuckles and stretching once more, Jackal returned to her reading.