Cold (Section IV)

Then there were more. From the dark crept the rest of the lone nest thieve's troop, their small, emaciated bodies hopping and darting about through the smoke-rain that all in her vision - made her world seem ditant. She could smell the hint of slow death, the scent of creatures dying from too little nourishment. Yet this was not a smell that brought her confidence. In moments such as these, with their bodies on the brink of death, even the smallest of creatures could become possessed of a strength born solely of the final will to survive - and it was a great and terrible strength indeed. She knew all too well that the threat against her and the last of her unborn children was very real - something she could not avoid without struggle and the possibility of harm. However, even as the nest theives drew close enough for her to see the once-vibrant feathers upon their grey-stained bodies, she did not move - gave no indication that she yet drew breath. What little energy remained within her body was precious beyond measure; any expenditure would come at great cost, thus she had to spend it wisely.

Closer and closer they crept, like the shadows of dead things somehow walking, their warbles and trills filling her ears as they advanced - smelling out the clutch of eggs over which she endlessly stood guard. Their eyes spoke of the utmost end of need - a drive that forced their bodies to act in place of thought. They were nearly beyond the brink - soon there would be no reason to hunt or move. Soon they would lay down and fade like so much else that had vanished when the light first shattered the sky. Yet that time had not yet overtaken them completely. There was something left in them. Hissing softly, the lead nest thief slowed in its bobbing walk, its back and neck arching slightly as it laid its large eyes upon her for the first time. She didn't dare move, not even to take a full breath. She had to remain still - had to let them come closer.

Cocking its head from side to side with swift jerks of its supple neck, the lead nest thief squawked softly and scrutinized her carfeully with its large, glassy eyes as the other members of its flock hooted and gibbered nervously nearby. She could feel her sides and chest begining to ache as her body fought to force her burning lungs to draw in a full breath. Yet she reamined absolutely still - betraying nothing of her life. She refused to let even her own flesh and bone threaten her son's meager chances of survival. Continuing to gaze upon her for what seemed like an agonizing eternity, the foremost nest thief at last took a tentative step forward - pausing immediately to see if its sudden motion had at last roused the nottice of the still and silent guardian before it. However, when she gave not even the slightest indication that she'd notticed them, the group of nest theives at last began to advance swiftly once more toward her nest - satisfied that the massive sentinel before them no longer moved from the thick layer of strange rain that covered her thin form in a blanket of grey.

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