Work Text:
Realization hits him too late.
He will not win this fight.
The Blight is strong, stronger than he anticipated.
Fast, too. It flies circles around him, and he such a master of his craft.
He tries to deny it at first.
Tries to avoid calling for help.
But as another laser from the Blight clips his wing and he hurtles downward, too fast to adjust, too fast to prevent himself from hurting.
And hurt it does when he lands on the back of Medoh.
Bones crunch and shatter, feathers fly, blood leaks from his broken beak.
And with a shaky, agonizing motion, he activates his distress signal.
It is far too little, far too late.
The Blight lets out a screech that sounds almost victorious, and pounces on its prey.
He has not the strength to scream as it shoots a beam straight through his heart.
