He wasn’t supposed to call it Chicken Large, on threat of being kicked from the team by Imp, so he only used the name in his own head.

He was dimly aware of them, like he’d be aware of leaves blowing around him.

When ‘search’ was the order, he was more aware of the responses. He could hear the distant caws as the assorted birds found something living. He could sense them too. Just a little brighter, more vibrant, alive.

He was linked in with the others while they were traveling, and now as he stood in the snowy field, no light above and no buildings near enough to cast any discernable light, he could feel where Darlene was lying in the back seat, her head resting on Candy’s shoulder, the younger Amias lying down across passenger and driver’s seat, head on Roman’s lap.

It was spooky out here, but at least he could sense that Roman was looking out for him, power at the ready. There would be the mercenary too.

He had a bead on the intruder. The general shape of it—too large to be moose or bear or anything of that sort.

He pushed out with another ‘flag’. If it were a physical thing, it would be planted right between the eyes of his target. He unpinned the flag from near Chicken Large and let the great eagle take flight.

It took more effort than it was worth to separate his birds by type or function. A creature that wasn’t normal or usual, that acted with too much intelligence. Scaled and drippy, capable of moving fast and hitting like a fast moving car with flailing claw arms.

He could count back from ten. For those ten seconds, the harassment of smaller birds, crows, owls, and other flying things that were braving the winter would be like an early warning sign.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.

It weighed half of what Aiden did, it descended at two hundred miles an hour, and it could survive the impact that followed, orienting itself and letting its claws do the work.

One second the target was alive, surrounded by a flurry of small birds. The next it was dead.

He headed back to the car, moving Amias’s feet so he could take the passenger seat. Roman climbed into the back, and the mercenary that had been standing watch with night vision goggles took the driver’s seat. Their ride.

It wasn’t that much of a trip to get to the settlement, a logging village focused on gathering wood, with barely anything to do.

Tattletale was up. She sat in dim lighting, her face in shadow, hiding the expression that came with a migraine.

“Hi,” he said, quiet.

“You asked to go out with the others. When I said yes, so long as you were careful—”

“We were careful.”