Callum lay in his nest, wings loosely folded around himself as he stared at the canopy above. The steel-clawed panther's piercing gaze haunted his thoughts, a reminder of how easily he could have died. He had faced many threats in this world already, but none had felt as hopeless as that encounter.
It wasn't just the panther's strength—it was its speed. There had been no escape, no time to think. If not for the intervention of another monster, he wouldn't be alive right now.
That realization clawed at his pride.
"I was too weak," he muttered to himself.
The thought made his feathers bristle. He had pushed himself ever since he first gained control of this body, learning to fly, to hunt, to fight. But all of that had barely mattered against a superior predator. It was infuriating.
But stewing over it wouldn't change anything.
His stomach let out a low growl, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since yesterday.
"…Tch."
Hunger was another weakness. One he could deal with. He wasn't planning to fight anything dangerous, but he couldn't afford to sit around starving either.
Callum stretched his wings and hopped to the edge of his nest. With a powerful push, he launched himself into the sky, soaring above the forest. The wind ruffled his feathers as he adjusted his flight, scanning the ground below for potential prey.
The world stretched out beneath him, bathed in the soft glow of morning light. Trees swayed gently, their leaves rustling in the breeze. Birds chirped in the distance, and somewhere far off, a stream gurgled. The peace of it all was deceiving. He knew better than to let his guard down.
His sharp eyes locked onto movement below. A lone horned rabbit stood near a shallow stream, drinking cautiously.
Callum narrowed his gaze.
This one was smaller than the rabbit he had struggled against before, but it was still a horned rabbit. He needed to be careful. He wasn't going to repeat past mistakes.
He circled above, waiting for the perfect opportunity.
The rabbit's ears twitched as it lifted its head, sensing something. Callum held himself steady, wings spread wide as he hovered. If it noticed him too soon, it would bolt, and he wasn't in the mood for a drawn-out chase.
Patience.
The rabbit finally lowered its guard.
Now.
Callum folded his wings and dove, slicing through the air like an arrow. The wind howled past his ears as he descended at full speed, talons extended.
The rabbit noticed too late.
With a sharp screech, Callum struck. His claws dug into its back, pinning it down before it could react. The rabbit thrashed, kicking wildly as it tried to throw him off. He flapped his wings, maintaining his balance while tightening his grip.
Not this time.
Before it could recover, Callum drove his beak into the side of its neck. A clean, precise strike.
The rabbit let out a weak shudder before going limp.
Callum released a slow breath, his heart still pounding.
It wasn't much of a challenge, but he needed this—an easy victory, something to remind him that he could still hunt, still survive.
He stepped back and shook out his feathers before lowering his head to eat. The taste of fresh meat filled his mouth, satisfying the dull ache in his stomach.
But even as he ate, his mind wandered back to the panther.
Speed. That was what had set it apart.
Callum had relied on ambush tactics to win his fights, but against something that could outrun him, that strategy was useless. He needed more than just brute force. He needed to become faster, stronger—more adaptable.
He needed power.
And he would find a way to get it.