Honor Thine Duty, Honor Thy Self

Leaves continue to drift lazily earthward toward the gap in the foliage left by the plummeting feline. Likewise the commotion had died down as well, the feral moth beating a hasty pursuit of the Sneasel, leaving a lone figure shakily perched atop the higher branches. He knelt there, peering over the edge of the wooden platform to look after where the two had disappeared barely 30 seconds ago. A sickening silence had fallen over the canopy, allowing the owl to catch a breath in the face of so much excitement. Never taking his eyes from that point of impact, his mind raced with how best to proceed.

He knew that the Sneasel, battered and poisoned as he was, stood little to no chance against the feral that had given chase. This was no immediate cause for concern, of course, as the brigand likely deserved his fate for all the cruelty both he and his kin had wrought upon the region. The wounded flyer looked to the thick cover overhead, easily spotting a few points he could ascend through the leaves to the free skies above. Even with the paw-induced injury he had incurred, there was a solid shot and simply rising through the air and beginning an uneasy flight back to the Nest to report what he had seen.

And yet…

When the young man spread his wings to give them a few test flaps, his eyes fell back to that void in the otherwise unbroken sea of wavy greenery. The leaves had stopped falling by this point, leaving an eerie stillness occasionally disrupted with the slight nighttime breeze. It must have been a full minute since he last saw the two, knowing that if he was going to make good his escape, now would be the time. With a scoff, he turned away and chastised himself for even considering the rogue’s wellbeing. This ‘Kale’ had struck him in a most unsportsmanlike manner and the soreness lingering in the bird's nethers reminded him of the displeasure he held for the other man. The cat even had the gall to lie directly to him, spinning a yarn about peace and innocence that masked his true ravenous nature. Still… Something didn’t sit right with the wayward scout.

The limb that same feline had been crouched upon, now shattered from the ranger’s wild shot, hung loosely toward where the Sneasel had crashed through, almost like a marker of the man’s eventual grave. The thought caused a chill to run down the archers spine, the knowledge that his misfire had doomed the man even as Kale tried to draw off the feral. Despite everything this cat was no doubt guilty of, could this aspiring warrior live with the bitter truth that he was to blame for the cat’s fate? The Decidueye’s beak tightened and his muscles tensed as the realization of which path he must walk took root in his honor bound heart. To strive for anything less would be to deny all that the Twig-hopper’s Corps stood for.

“Stupid, clumsy Cat..!” were the words he chose to punctuate the reckless nosedive off the branch as he rushed to the aid of one who at least pretended to have come to his own. The descent through the torn branches took less than the time required for the bird to consider the folly of his actions. This, as it would turn out, came as a small blessing as the purple moth came into view almost immediately after he took up the chase. She still hung in the air just feet from the now **** Sneasel who lay in a disheveled heap upon the mass of branches that broke his fall. The ranger winced at the result of his careless actions but had no time to reflect on this as the unaware Venomoth was coming up fast.

Wounded and tired as he was, the owl knew that this first strike was imperative to his success, like. As such, with just seconds before the imminent collision, he gave one final mighty pump of his otherwise silent wings to propel himself beyond the pull of gravity. The infected insect would catch the faintest whisper of that last furious flap and begin to turn, though Arceus themself would’ve had trouble reacting in time to the downy wrapped rocket.

The next few seconds were chaotic to say the least…

Sturdy as she was from the effects of the virus coursing through her veins, the Venomoth was woefully unprepared to take the full brunt of a furious avian connecting with her midsection at such velocity. The ranger growled in pain as his shoulder took her in the side, rattling both of the pokemon to their core. Little could slow the momentum of the savage tackle, the owl instead merely clenching his eyes shut and wrapping his wing arms about the woman as the branches rushed up to meet the pair. To her credit, the infected was able to shake enough of the stars from her purple eyes to begin a token resistance to the hold, though gravity would prove the victor.

Twigs and bark tear at the rangers feathers as the duo rip clear through the first branch that was unlucky enough to catch the warring projectile. Leaves are sent scattering away as they continue their maelstrom into the next series of limbs, each one slowing their tumble. When at last their streak is ended by a particularly stubborn branch, archer and feral are torn apart and thrown into their own isolated spins. The scout, working on a pure instinctual need for survival, is able to pulse his wings to right himself before landing hard upon a thick bough, taking a nasty bump to his right thigh. Knowing the fresh aching would come as soon as the shock wore off, he **** both legs under himself, bringing himself to a wobbly stance against the trunk of the tree. Catching a shaky breath to calm the pound heart in his battered chest, the soreness earned by his rash actions would crash over him, each wave bringing with it a new understanding as to the extent of his injuries.

In addition to the reignited discomfort in his nethers, a wicked throbbing in his head alerted the archer of an approaching headache. Superficial bumps and scratches dotted his form, matting and even tearing loose some of the plumage about his chest. Thankfully, these wounds didn’t carry with them the same ache as the most egregious of his traumas. That honor would go to the smarting knot of fiery anguish that was his upper right thigh, the part of him that took the worst of the landing. Gingerly he would put weight on the leg, finding thankfully that it was not broken. The nasty little spark of soreness that shot back up into his brain did however confirm that this would need time to heal and would be almost useless in a fight.

And a fight was on its way.

No sooner had the owl shaken the plant detritus from his feathers, than did a shrill cry ring out through the trees. The sound froze the blood in his veins as it confirmed that not only had his foe survived the fall, but that she was far from finished. He winced against the stinging in his thigh as he pressed his back tightly against the trunk of the tree, unsure if he’d been spotted. It was then that he saw the pale violet wings shimmering overhead in the moonlight, setting a quick pace that carried the feral past the tree he was hidden in. More angry shrieks would sound as the woman continued her search for the sneaky bird that dared deny her the Sneasel.

Barely able to stifle a gasp as the Venomoth made another rapid pass between the branches opposite him, the scout knew he wouldn’t remain below her awareness for long. What’s worse was the knowledge that with each flyby, the infected woman was spreading more of that damned paralytic spore. If he caught one good puff of that, the fight would be over before it began. He couldn’t continue like this, he realized, and a **** plan would start to come together…

The woman resumed her hunt for the archer mere moments after their midair separation, colliding with the bark of another tree. The pain of impact was dampened slightly by the raging contempt she now held within her bruised chest. Mindless as she was, the overwhelming need to vent her fury upon the impudent owl that interrupted her meal very nearly took priority over the implanted desire to feed and to breed.

Nearly…

In between increasingly wild swoops to search the boughs for her prey, the crazed moth would imagine all of the delightly cruel things she would visit upon him just as soon as she could-

*Thwack*

The slightest hint of a noise disturbed the evening breeze, so low that most would not have caught it. Enhanced by the corrupted power rushing through her, the Venomoth picked up the sound almost instantly. Her pale eyes would instinctively flick to the source, eager to be done with the chase.

*Tack* *Tick* *tic*

Another series of small sounds guide her ire in time to catch a small piece of bark falling free from the branches above. A grim smirk would play across her chitinous face as the image of a nervous owl skittering about the boughs, clumsily knocking loose bits of wood to reveal himself, fills her depraved mind with glee. Without another moment wasted on fantasies, the violet insect gives a powerful flap of her wings to dart after her quarry. Within seconds she arrives at the base of the tree and within another few she has climbed through air to the spot the bark made contact with the branch. A quick scan reveals no tasty morsel, however, though more puzzling there are no signs of his passing. No discarded feathers, no claw marks atop the wooden platform, nor bare patches upon the branch where strips of bark were torn free.

Only the sound of a bowstring pulled taut behind her…

The ploy, simple and risky as it was, had worked perfectly. It had been a nerve racking ordeal to gently extract a piece of bark from the trunk without the sounds of ripping plant flesh giving away his location. He would breathe a silent sigh of relief when it at last snapped free of its maker, leaving the man hidden. Waiting for the woman to pass beneath him once more, he would launch the piece to shatter against the side of a tree with a clear line of sight 20 or so feet away. As he hoped, up came the winged predator, greedy for her next meal. A practiced, feathery hand drew back on the shafted projectile and the string would whine in protest with a soft stretching sound, alerting his target to his deception. He had but one shot to end this, he knew, as his chest tightened on the final breath it took. Just as those purple orbs filled with naught but ceaseless hunger fell upon him, the ranger couldn’t suppress his grin in the face of her shocked expression.

“Gotcha…”

The arrow, coated in a vibrant neon energy crackled through the air, matching the short distance in a fraction of a second to collide with the womans exposed back. Upon making contact, the sharpened quill would release its powerful payload and burst into a violent evergreen explosion. The **** of the blow would ripple across the greenery, throwing splinters and foliage alike in all directions, similarly driving the surprised feral face first into the tree she had been searching. Reflexively nocking another arrow, the man would release another sigh as the tension in his wounded muscles began to lessen at the sight of the feral woman out cold, now crumpled into an undignified heap amongst a few intersecting branches.

Not wanting to risk his already weakened frame with another dive, he would carefully descend the tree, making an awkward hop to the branches where the formerly imposing woman now lay. Her chest heaved softly, still drawing weak breaths despite her ordeal. From within a small pack hidden beneath his feathered hip the ranger drew a long, flexible length of vine and set to work binding the woman’s limbs and wings alike. As much as he’d like to enjoy the spoils of his victory, there was still the issue of a Sneasel, likewise slumbering in the leaves above. Leaving nothing to chance, the owl would make one last check to ensure the moth was still under before making the climb to collect the other problematic pokemon…