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Cried the Flycatcher

Summary:

Tommy was always warned by hybrids he bumped into to stay in the forest and never go to the village, as it was infested with hunters who'd love to stumble upon a lost little fledgling and take them apart, take the shiniest pieces, and leave the rest to rot.

Too bad he doesn't know what hybrid traps are.

Or;

Lone bird Tommy sees food in the open on some little wood slab, gets trapped, and proceeds to watch the hunter get his shit rocked by old crow man

Notes:

Tommy is a Vermillion Flycatcher and Phil is, you guessed it, a Crow.

Chapter Text

"GET OUTTA HERE, SCRAM YOU HYBRID FREAK"

The Blacksmith seemed to be in an extra sour mood today, Tommy decided.

Usually, he'd just shoo him with a broom or yell to 'Beat it, kid!', but most the time he didn't scream or call him nasty Slurs like that, but it must've been a bad day for Mr.Blacksmith it seems.

Tommy continues bolting through the village, wings tucked and slipping between crowds, hearing the yells get quieter and quieter, grinning in victory as he clutched his stolen goods closer to his chest.

He ran until he reached the forest, skidding into it and following a familiar internal path, past the tree with the crooked beehive, past the murky lake polluted from humans, through the poisonous berry bushes, and over to the cave hidden in moss and underbrush.

Home.

It's been his home as long as he can remember since being alone, starting 5 years ago, when he was a abandoned 4 year old fledgling. He has to crawl to get in, and sometimes his wings get caught on the ridges of the entrance, pulling up feathers and scraping the sensitive limb, but hey, take what ya get, yea?

After a bit of squirming to get in, he popped through, being met with the familiar smell of rat shit and moss, the sound of water trickling through the crack in the wall, the dull scratch and chitter of the small rodents that stole his shit, usually rats and mice, and the dull light of the lantern he stole a while back.

Tommy shakes his wings out, dirt falling as usual and a few new cuts being felt, making him grimace. He set down the stolen dagger and few iron nuggets he managed to snag, next to a few other pieces. 9, enough to weld into an ingot.

Enough for warm food, maybe even hot.

From what he's seen though, the village by the forest has expensive items. from simple t shirts being up to 3 gold ingots, to a pasta in the market being 4 iron ingots. It was because most people there were rich from what he knows, leaving the poor and homeless to die.

He really hates humans sometimes.

He grabbed the small pieces of iron went to the small hole in the corner of the room in the floor that he had lava in, he remembers when he snagged that lava bucket, it was how he got one of his biggest scars, a large gash in his upper back near the left, where the man had ripped the skin open with a butchers knife, he managed to avoid the direct hit, instead being hit horizontally.

It still hurts sometimes.

He grabbed a 2 sturdy sticks he uses for these things, clumping the iron in a group and dipping it in the lava, then setting the pieces on the ground, watching them meld together as he used the stick to poke and prod it into a somewhat ingot shape, a wonky rectangle.

He put the sticks back next to the lava, letting the iron cool down whilst pulling up a magazine he snagged from the village. Fuckers are so full of themselves they made a goddamn magazine about themselves bragging how rich and superior they are 'Least it has all the prices of things.

Opening the crinkled material, he skimmed through the sight seeing and introductory straight to the shops, flipping the pages of clothes and jewelry, to foods.

Fancy restaurants are an immediate no, as there all ways pricy, and they wouldn't let him in anyway, even when he hides his wings and covers his feathered ears, they deem him too dirty and 'a bad look for the business'. Pricks.

The market stands would be nice, but he's stolen one too many times there to come in on a thursday, these days are when the people who hit and kick him come in.

He would enjoy stealing today since it'd be easy, but he's extra tired today and his leg hurts like a motherfucker when he runs, thanks to the Blacksmith kicking the shit out of his calf.

Hopefully the limp only lasts 3 days at the most, then again he's thin and weak, not that he'd ever admit it.

The Inside Market was also out of the picture, the security changes every so often but 1 guard is always there, every fucking day. His name Is Jaret or something dumb.

He flipped the page and paused, there was a cafe he never seen or heard of. Must be behind some big shops or on a route he usually doesn't take. There was 2 other cafe's he frequently stole from that always had salvageable food in the dumpster

1 was under maintenance and the Other had caught him too much, so it looked like he's going to this one.

____________________________________________________

 

This one sucked, he decided.

It reeked of spoiled milk, and the LEDs were bright and painful. He can't complain too much though, corpses smell much worse.

He peeked around, seeing the alley empty near it, and slipping in, towards the dumpsters. Any hope was crushed at the sight of a lock on the lids though. He checked the other one, locked too.

well shit.

He circled towards the back of the building and paused. There was a plastic container tossed carelessly, 2 cupcakes sat inside. He glanced at the back door, then slid over to the container, eagerly picking it up.

There was a pressure plate under it.

Before he even had a moment to be confused, a loud CLANG echoed and he was in a cage.

He yelped and tossed the container, scrabbling at the metal bars and swallowing down any panicked peeps, then there was a laugh and a man stepped into view. Now he couldn't stop the fearful peeps.

He had a heavy crossbow, a hunter outfit and a freaky smiley face mask. Tommys wings puffing in fear and backing into the cage when the man got up close and personal to it.

"Aww, poor thing trapped?" he teased, tapping the bars. Tommys peeps turning into chirps.

"You should know better then to go for a hybrid trap, didn't your family teach you?" he continued, circling the cage.

"Then again, you don't have a flock, do you?" Tommys chirps are distressed and high in volume, "No one to care for you, alone, a freak, left here. Perfect for me."

The man stood in front of Tommy, the mask, despite, showing no emotion, was absolutely terrifying. Tommy was trembling, breathing picking up in speed as the Man stared.

"Not many of you around this parts. Your wings will sell for a pretty penny." The man explained, eyeballing the wings with disgusting greed. He slammed the crossbow against the cage, causing Tommy to yelp and whine, curling in on himself and nearly falling as he burrowed his back into the bars farthest from the Hunter.

The man only cooed.

"Real lucky your wings are red, that way when I hack them off, the blood hides better when I wash them. Some like the blood stains though, hmm." The man hummed as if he was doing something as simple as cleaning an old doll, rather then dismembering a young boy.

Tommy's chirps are near shrieks at this point, loud and desperate, begging for help danger hunter help help please.

The man chuckled to himself, then pulled a arrow out and began loading the crossbow, now the chirps are definitely shrieks.

He aimed at the young avian, causing the boy to shriek at the top of his lungs, begging for help from anyone near, wings puffed and shaking hard, as the man simply stared.

"stay still, ey?" He asked, and Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, as he heard the creak of the trigger beginning to pull, bracing.

"what the-" 

There was a loud whoosh, and thump as something was tossed, then a scream cut off as there was a sickening crunch splat.

It was silent for a few moments as Tommy stayed curled up standing, wings puffed and eyes squeezed shut, trembling violently, then, something crooned.

Tommy instinctually started untensing, wings slowly lowering as the croons turned to a rumbling purr. 

Tommy peeked an eye open, There was a new man. He had a green and white bucket hat, kind blue eyes and golden hair, just like Tommy. He had huge jet black wings, most likely a crow or raven. 

The man was bloody and the stench of blood and a corpse was near, he help bloody keys and stuck them in the lock, turning with a click as the cage door opened.

Tommy was calmed and shaking less at the continued rumble, as the man gently took his hand. Any and all fear gone as the man was so gentle, small scars littering his palm as he held Tommy's tiny bruised and bandaged hand in his.

Tommy didn't protest when the man slid him out and held him to his chest, chirps promising flock home safe fledgling safe safe flock.

The man took to the skies with Tommy in his arms in a strong flap of his wings, taking towards the mountains as a cave grew visible, 2 figures moving inside.

Tommy thinks he's just been adopted. 

He's happy with that.