A Murder of Crows

Barely dodging the blade, Coco leaned back, far beyond her equilibrium. Falling backwards, she spun in midair, lifting a leg and slapping out hands to catch herself as Brom's sword flickered out again, barely missing her neck. Pushing off furiously as her boot made contact with the stones, Coco shot away, soaked tail flailing. The tall, thin crow cawed in frustrated rage.

“Damn the slippery bitch!” he rasped, and stalked after her, saber swinging, snipping moments in time from the young feline's life. “Bloody cats always land on their feet. We'll see how well she does with them hacked away at the ankles!”
His claws slipped on the wet cobbles and he staggered, knocking into others with his wide wings. An older horse looked to argue this rudeness until he looked on Brom's face, cold and deathly pale in murderous hate. Shaking his head, the horse brushed his sleeve dismissively and hurried away, ears flat.

Two alleys down the street, Coco fumbled with her belt pouch, cursing the rain. The leather had swollen in the buckle and she couldn't get a purchase. There! The blasted thing came free and she rammed a hand into the bag, hand closing around a cool handle.

“Now, Monsieur! We shall see who dies this evening!” she hissed, drawing back on the hammer of her invention. Immediately an eye-watering glow started as sparks of aether began to gather around the combination of silver and copper. She would have to remember to wear goggles next time she used it. If there was a next time. Ears cocked, she leaned out to peek around the corner, looking for her pursuer.

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