Prejudice Works Best with a Twist
Prejudice works best with a twist. They say that if you're holding a silver fork, a crow flying in the sky will come out to greet you.
"Cawww!"
I hated that story.
My mouth went bone-dry. Perched on a rock, meticulously observing me, the crow made me calmly assess the situation.
Finding the cause of the problem wasn't hard. I'd thought I'd picked a good spot, thick with branches to shield me from the sky above.
...Who knew a sparkle collector would live up to the stereotype.
The sunlight had glinted off the fork, drawing the crow down to the ground like this.
...Should've smeared some dirt on it beforehand.
Too late, I spotted my carelessness and oversights one by one. But there'd be time for reflection after dealing with the crisis right in front of me.
I steadied my mind for a moment. Without taking my eyes off the crow, I pondered how to get out of this.
"Caw." Peck. Peck. Peck.
In the meantime, the crow, which had been tilting its head at me for a bit, started leisurely pecking at the caterpillars crawling on the rock. It almost looked like it'd lost interest in me.
...It's still watching.
Just waiting for me to turn my back and run, so it could chase me down anytime.
Even while eating, its gaze stayed fixed in my direction.
With wings thinner than a sheet of paper, I could never shake its pursuit. The moment I showed an opening, its talons would tear me apart alive in an instant.
A proper fight wasn't even possible. The physical gap between the crow and me was just that vast.
So why wasn't the crow attacking me right away?
I could tell from how its eyes lingered on the "weapon" in my hand. You might think it was just the crow's habit of collecting shiny things.
【Young Crow lv.6】
【Status】 Curiosity, Caution
It knew the silver fork I held could hurt it.
The best survival strategy in the wild isn't winning fights—it's avoiding unnecessary ones. That's why it was probing, casually eating bugs off the rock.
"Caw. Cawk!"
Soon, having devoured all the caterpillars, the crow spread its wings wide to either side.
A threat. Blocking out the sky like a solar eclipse, the crow's silhouette loomed oppressively over me.
"Cawk!"
Folding its wings again, it cocked its head. It pointed its beak at the fork in my hand, then nodded toward the ground.
Drop the weapon in your hand. Do that, and I'll let you live. It seemed to say.
...What to do.
I glanced down at the fork gripped in my hand. Anyway, I could always come back for another one from the wreckage clearing in a few days.
Fortunately, the crow didn't look particularly hungry right now. Of course, I might be misreading it. But honestly, it seemed more interested in the fork than in me.
If I threw the fork as far as possible and bolted the other way to hide, I might survive.
"......"
But was that the right choice?
After giving up the fork, then what? Could I really escape the crow unscathed? Even if I survived this, what about next time?
Even if I handed over the fork here and lived, could I survive in this place without my only weapon?
For that matter, what guarantee was there that the crow would let me go if I gave up my weapon?
Wolves, raptors, snakes, and all sorts of other beasts. In this forest right now, I was at the bottom of the food chain.
The fork in my hand was my sole means of resisting those predators.
I gripped that means tighter.
...Gotta at least try.
Compared to the wolf pack I'd seen before, the birds of prey soaring overhead, or the snake slithering past me, the crow was much smaller. Of course, "smaller" was only relative to those other beasts—it was still towering over me.
So total victory was never part of the plan.
Inflict a wound to show I wasn't easy prey and make it give up. Or hit the wing base or eye for a fatal blow, securing my escape.
Either way, it wouldn't be easy. I might regret this choice soon. But still.
Even a humiliating defeat was better than meekly surrendering without a fight.
"...Come at me."
With resolve hardened, I clutched the fork tight.
The young crow, flying with its flock, suddenly spotted something sparkling amid the underbrush. Intending to pick it up, it briefly left the group. As it descended toward the ground, it saw a small animal that had gotten to the shiny object first.
A size not even half its own. No thick hide, sharp horns or teeth, claws. The only potential threat was the glowing stick in its... legs? It looked like easy prey no matter how you sliced it.
But green fur covering its head. Movements adept at handling tools. Standing upright on two legs.
The creature before it resembled the "apex predators" its parents had repeatedly warned about as dangerous. Except.
"Caw?"
Even as a young one, its parents had said it'd be several times their size. But this animal barely reached the young crow's chest.
And there was no leisure in the animal's demeanor. Its eyes brimmed with bewilderment and fear. Huddled small, plotting only how to flee this place.
Unusual looks aside, it was no different from the countless small animals the crow had hunted before.
So the crow concluded it was prey it could hunt.
Of course, mindful of its parents' warnings.
"Caw. Cawk!"
It aimed for maximum safety. Threaten first, then strike from behind when it fled in panic.
"...Come at me."
Right after the threat, instead of fleeing, the animal ignited with defiance.
Seeing this, the crow pondered again.
It had been bitten by cornered small animals as a chick and knew how vicious they could get when they fought back. The repeated parental warnings about this creature nagged at it too, despite the size.
But honestly, that shiny stick right there was tempting.
Besides, the opponent was much smaller. No way it'd lose to something swinging a glowing stick.
Plus, per its parents, this animal couldn't fly. So even if it proved more dangerous than expected, the crow could just bolt into the sky.
Snatch the stick and soar up immediately. Fly fast to shake off the mystery beast. Reunite with the flock, shiny prize in talon. Done.
"Cawww!"
Decision made, the crow took flight, talons extended. Then.
Flap flap—
It dove swiftly toward the animal staring up from the rock.
That instant.
Whirr— "Cawk?"
The animal, which definitely shouldn't fly, lifted into the air. Stunned by the unforeseen, the crow hesitated a moment.
A split-second lapse.
Stab. "Cawww—?!"
The small animal's thrust pierced the crow's wing base.
If there's one thing I'd learned from being toyed with by that wolf in the glass jar or flying long distances, it was that a fairy's body—fragile-looking as it seemed—was surprisingly sturdy and strong. Proving it.
Squelch! "Cawww—!"
Timing my thrust as the crow dove at me, the fork pierced its wing base cleanly.
Blood sprayed everywhere. The crow, with a deep gash in its shoulder, plummeted to the ground.
"Caw! Caw—!"
Of course, by the time it reached me, it was already close to the ground, so I couldn't add fall damage.
Still.
Flap— flap flap.
Just grounding it was victory enough.
Whirr—
I stayed wary, suspecting it might be luring me in with a feint.
"Cawww!"
But seeing it limp its wing in agony, it didn't feel like acting.
Ended anticlimactically.
A wing-base injury meant it couldn't fly for a while. Now, even if I fled into the sky, it couldn't pursue.
Moreover, bleeding like that, other predators would soon smell the blood and come. Normally, I'd leave it and scram.
.
....
Smirk.
A smile leaked out instinctively.
It couldn't fly anyway. Sooner or later, it'd be devoured by beasts drawn by the blood scent. If it was doomed to die anyway.
Why not toy with it a little?
Wasn't that my right as the victor?
Gazing at the crow flailing to take off again, I turned the fork's tines toward it.
"Caw—!"
Noticing the interest in my eyes, it scampered away, trying to flee. Positions reversed, watching it run from me—joy started overflowing from my face.
Alright then. Where to start?