A pesky Chervil (p)

Just a little further. Chervilpaw took another step forwards, the rough bark ruffling her belly fur. Three tail lengths on, wedged between the trunk and two branches, sat the nest. She could just make out the softly flecked eggs peeking out over the edge of the nest. She had impeccable timing if she said so herself. No sooner had this thought crossed her mind than something slammed into the back of her head leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

Claws digging in, she pressed her belly even harder against the branch to keep her footing. A squawk cut the air and once more a trail of fire blazed along the back of her skull. A low hiss escaped her, more out of frustration than pain and she whipped her head both ways. A flash of grey plumage was drawing back to strike again, mother bird had returned to defend her nest. Chervilpaw purred, who was Chervilpaw to her nose up at an extra piece of freshkill? She let the bird strike once more and then reared upwards so she could knock the bird out of the sky on its next strike. Before she could steady herself something collided hard with the back of her head. She barely had time to register her assailants had doubled before she was falling. She crashed into branch after branch before landing, on her feet but barely, with a strangled oomph.

The back of her head ached where patches of fur had been torn out to leave trails of blood along the back of her head. The rest of Chervilpaw’s pelt was ruffled and mattered with twigs but she couldn’t have cared less. Had she? Did she just… She hadn’t just lost a fight to a bird? Heat flushed along her cheeks. From the sound of it she’d managed to scare off someone’s prey as well. She tested the air, recognizing the scent of Berrymist and trudged out into the clearing. There was no doubt her ears were in for another clawing.

“Well,” she grumbled, “your yowling’s hardly going to bring it back now is it?”