The Last Warrior

Food was becoming scarce.

The only thing Cahira had caught so far was a small rabbit with almost no meat left on its thin bones. It was spring, so why were the prey in hiding?

Birds crying in the distance slightly startled her as she made her way through the thick undergrowth. She could smell many herbs—a lot of mint, particularly. She loved that smell. She remembered Agatha, the village healer. She always kept mint in stock for two reasons. One: If it was drenched in water and placed under an unconscious warrior’s nose, it would usually awaken them with its pungent smell. And two: If a warrior is about to slip into unconsciousness, she’d put it in her mouth to keep her awake. Oh, wait, and cooking, which was something Agatha was most definitely good at. Make that three.

She finally decided to stop and sniff it out. She listened closely for a trickle of water, but she couldn’t hear it. Amazon Warriors in training were usually sent on tasks by the Tribe Healer. Agatha had a particularly close bond with Cahira, and she was sent on the most tasks by her. Mint usually grew around water, as Agatha had taught her when she sent her to gather herbs.

Cahira bent a little closer to the ground, and then pulled herself back up once she figured out where it was coming from.

She rounded the corner of a large tree with branches that curved like a banshees nails. The minty scent grew, floating around her face as if embracing her. She thankfully breathed in the familiar scent.

She spotted a tiny pond through the branches. She pulled them apart and spotted the little pond more clearly. Water mint surrounded the miniscule body of water, its little bodies bent over the pond as if drinking in its very essence.

More birds cried in the distance, a whole flock, maybe. They seemed to be getting a lot closer, but Cahira paid no mind to it. She was just glad that she had found some mint. She could make mint tea, if there was a tea bush around here somewhere, but there was none in sight. She had no choice but to eat the mint raw, no matter how strange it tasted on her tongue without Agatha’s cooking.

Cahira was starving. She tossed her backpack off and dove to her knees in front of the miniscule pond, only a wide as her arm’s length, and picked the leaves from their stems. She put them in one at a time, careful to take her time. She had always been told that stuffing when starving could get you a major stomach ache. She had never tried it before, but she wasn’t going to try it now.

Once her mouth was full of the sweet, sugary, almost spicy taste, she bent down toward the water and, pulling her hair back into her fist, she plunged her lips into the water and sucked it into her mouth like a straw.

The mix of the frosty water and the minty taste cleared her senses, seaming to bring her back to life after a hungry sleep. She sighed in relief and lifted from the water. In such relief, she fell back to the soft grassy earth and closed her eyes, taking in the minty scent that floated in the clean, fresh air.

Those cries started up again. Those birds—they were closer than ever. They sounded huge, crying hungrily into the sunset.

Cahira opened her eyes. Up in the sky, she could see three specks of darkness against the brilliant blue. She squinted and they grew bigger and bigger and bigger—slowly and gradually.

And it wasn’t long before she realized that they were diving right for her.

And they only grew—and it wasn’t long before she realized they were bigger than her. She caught a flash of them as she dove out of the way—black beady eyes sat upon a small head. It’s beak looked as the sword she lugged around, its talons the same. It had glittering brown feathers, the tips of the wings shining golden in the sun. The feathers standing out on its head looked sharp, even for feathers, shining like golden armor.

The bird, startled that its prey had escaped its talons, screeched as it hurtled toward the ground. It stabbed the ground with its claws, scraping it as he came to a stop. It screeched, and lunged, flapping its powerful wings clumsily as it made its way toward her.

Cahira needed her bag. She needed the sword beside it. How could she fight these things without them?

But she suddenly felt weak thinking that she needed a weapon to survive. She didn’t need a weapon to survive. She was stronger than that.

Cahira hated this feeling of defeat—and the fight hadn’t really begun. She lunged and struck the ginormous bird—aiming for the cheek, but when it jerked back, she ended up striking it in the beak.

And she felt her hand smash into a million pieces.

It felt as if every bone in her hand had snapped, and it immediatley went still on her wrist.

It was then that she realized that these birds—they were not just any birds. All armor of bronze or iron that men wear is pierced by them. Stymphalian birds—these birds wreaked havoc on the Stymphalian village. If the birds were here, she must be near the village.

Cahira cried out. The pain emanating from her hand was unbearable. She had to reach her bag—she had no choice. With a broken wrist and the fact that she was outnumbered from 1 to 3, she had no choice. It didn’t matter if her ego was getting the better of her. The rest of her was able to ignore it and know that a weapon was her only choice.

There were three birds. Two were huge, about the same size—taller than her. The other one seemed younger—maybe the baby. It was maybe an inch shorter than Cahira. It had a frightened look in its eyes, glancing nervously from his parents, to the chosen prey. It must be on its first hunt.

Cahira dove to her bag by the small pond and grabbed the light, half-sword and ripped it out of its sheath. She flashed the sword around, showing she was a threat to them. They looked doubtful, but she could see their skinny, meatless bones. It looked like Hercules had scared them away from the village. If word got around that the birds were attacking again, the villagers would go straight to him, and he’d come back to finish them off. So they had to settle on travelers near the village.

She felt for the baby bird. She didn’t want to kill the parents, like her mom was killed. That’d make her just as bad as Hercules.

She reached for her bag again and ripped out the bundle of rope that was hanging out of it. She planned on just tying their legs down. It would take them a few hours to get it undone, so she would have time to get away before being forced to kill them.

The birds were quick, their long limbs giving them advantages. The bulkier one launched itself toward Cahira, thrusting its neck toward her to snap off her nose. She lifted the rope in front of her face, holding it in a firm, straight line. It took her a minute to realize it, but the sword that had been in her other hand was now on the ground. Why had she chosen to lift up the rope?

The bird snapped on it, grinded its teeth together, but the rope was too far back against the creases of his mouth to be able to snap the rope, farther back than its teeth went. Aggravated, it snapped at her face, instead, but to no avail.

The creature was strong. It didn’t give up. It urged on with all its might, snapping endlessly at her face, but never reaching it.

It wasn’t long before Cahira was on the ground the bird looming over her, still snapping at her behind the rope. She was now desperate. Her strength fading. Her mind foggy. Her own body willing her to give and hope the birds will eat her fast.

Panicked, she began looking for an escape.

She thought of the stories. Hercules had killed most of them off, enough to scare them into leaving the village they feasted upon alone. He shot them with arrows.

But I have them here, in a close range battle. He killed them from a safe distance. What should I do?

Her elbows buckled, and the bird was able to get an inch closer to her face. She had to turn sideways so it wouldn’t snap off her nose.

And that was when she saw it.

Weak ankles. It was a small flaw, but it could’ve been her only chance. She nudged it with her heel, testing it to see if it was really as weak as she’d hoped. The bird seemed to catch on quickly. It sunk its talons deep inside the ground to steady itself, and make sure she couldn’t slip them out from under him.

No. Her only chance had slipped by.

Filled with a newfound energy and rage, she brought her knee up and slammed it into the bird’s gut. It squawked, screeching its hot breath onto her face. She was no longer in a position of “one move and it’s over”. She forced the bird back with the rope at the back of its mouth.

It squealed, dumbfounded. Cahira was on her feet, the rope in its mouth, and she propelled herself onto its back. She used the rope in its mouth as reins.

She was surprised at herself, not even sure how she came up with the idea of taming the animal. It didn’t matter, though. She was alive, uninjured, and the situation was in her control.

She felt slightly guilty, though, taking charge of the bird, when he had a family to tend to. Cahira promised herself that she would just ask him to take her to the village. It wasn’t but a few mountains away, so he should be back home by tonight.

Cahira wasn’t bothered by admitting that she was tired. Travel was tough, especially when the food was scarce. She had enough to money to buy her a meal before heading out again towards the Oracle of Delphi. She was suddenly thankful for the map the centaurs had given her. Now she didn’t have to look like a lost traveler, unaware of where she was going.

The bird squawked, rearing itself, but it soon gave up, head hung low.

The female, or wife, screeched, lunging toward her. Before she could grasp Cahira in her big, hot beak, she pulled on the reins, yanking the father in her range, causing her to snap at her own mate.

Her mate hissed, almost snake-like, passing her daggers. She hissed back, taking a few steps away as if to say, “Sorry, sorry…”

“I’m just borrowing him—“

Mother hissed, squawking madly.

“I’ll send him back—I swear.”

Cahira wasn’t sure what made her finally understand. But as her small, golden eyes met hers in a sharp glare, she seemed to accept defeat and sent a last message to her husband, squawking a small remark. He squawked back, almost shrinking under her glare.

And mother turned, taking off into the baby-blue sky. Her child, with big scared eyes, took a look at his father, and then at Cahira. Its eyes became even more frightened. It took a few steps toward us, giving little weak goodbyes, but then turned and launched itself weakly into the air, falling back to the earth, but taking another launch and making it. He wasn’t nearly as graceful as his mother.

Cahira stooped down, still upon his back, and grabbed her bag from the ground.

“Okay. Take me to the city.”

And off he flew.

At first, it seemed like her weight was too much for him, but he was soon flying—higher and higher he went, until they were above the clouds. He wasn’t used to having the extra weight on his back. The wind stung her eyes, tears streaming past her ears. As soon as they were above, he stopped flapping, letting the air catch under his wings. Her eyes didn’t sting anymore. They were gliding above the world.

Cahira wondered if she could see Mount Olympus from here, but the sky was too cloudy.

She looked below, looking for the town. It took a while, the bird diving and flapping, but suddenly, the bird dropped like a rock.

They were diving straight downward. Cahira grasped his feathers in her hands, the reins still in her sweaty palm, and pressed herself to the amazing creature.

And then, they were drifting, like a feather in the air, toward the ground, where he landed gracefully.

She swung off, bag over her shoulder. “Okay. Take your leave, now.”

Cahira turned and began walking towards the village in front of her, where she could see the bustling people.

But she heard footsteps behind her.

She turned. The bird was still behind her, following her every footstep.

Cahira yelled, “Go! Go home!”

The bird didn’t budge.

This is another reason the Amazons hate men. They leave their families for someone else.

She rolled her eyes, grabbed his rope reins, which he clamped in his mouth. She pulled him into the village.