I didn’t know which was scarier: that I had just been born as a tiny blob monster, that I had vague memories of another life, or that I was about to be eaten.

  No, I think I do know which is scarier. The “being eaten” one.

  My small yellow eyes were locked with those of the feathered monstrosity across the river. I had no experience in this world or in this body, but my instincts told me it could cross the water and consume me faster than I could run away. Maybe even faster than I could blink.

  Text box…what is that?

  

  Further information on this monster is not available at this time.

  Fantastic.

  With how certain I was that death was moments away, another flash of a memory struck me. Nothing too detailed or specific, but enough that I felt confident of one thing: I had died once before. It had been fast, unexpected, and far too soon.

  Very similar to how my second death is about to be.

  The first movement was almost imperceptible. To someone watching from the outside, the bird creature would have seemed as still as the second before. But to me, hyper fixated because my new life depended on it, I noticed.

  A claw I assumed was its foot adjusted the smallest fraction of an inch. The rest of its body was still except for the gentle breeze that ruffled its metallic, greasy, black feathers. The wind carried away the sound of the feathers clinking against one another, chiming a subtle song of imminent death.

  I had seconds before it would lunge at me and swallow me whole.

  What kind of world is this? To have a creature like this be the first thing I see after being born?

  No parents, no siblings, no help.

  I’m all alone.

  Why was I born only to face this? I don’t want to die again.

  Something told me my last death had come down to a split second as well. When I could see something coming and had but one choice to make, only to have made the wrong one. But whatever mistake I had made, it hadn’t taught me anything to avoid another one now. As it had been in my last life, I was forced to play a game of chance.

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  It silenced my soul to know there was no thought I could have, strategy I could concoct, or angle I could work that would increase my odds. There was only my weak body’s instinct to drive me. So, I let my body act, and watched it all unfold like a frightened audience to my own life.

  There wasn’t enough strength in my small body to say that I jumped into the river. At best, I fell, tumbling down the side of the nest. I tried to keep my eyes trained on the bird but with each spin I got at best a snapshot of it.

  With the first glance as my body rolled over itself I saw its legs bend backwards, dry skin cracking at each crease.

  The next its wings were outstretched, a shadow eclipsing the woods behind it.

  Then, on the third glance as I tumbled down, it was in the air. But not the air above the nest across the river. It was already in the space above me. Its metallic wings had sliced against the air as though flying required it to attack. It was made to damage everything it came in contact with. And I was next.

  I knew there wouldn’t be another look, and my body would never make contact with the river where it could perhaps hide beneath the water. Soon I would turn and see only its open beak, and then this brief second life would be over.

  But I was wrong. I did turn again to see a quick glimpse of the beast. Its maw was open and I could see rows of sharp needles lining the inside of its beak and throat. It needed only to close and I would join its other meals. But it didn’t.

  I turned another time and saw the bird again. It remained in the same pose above me. Wings outstretched, maw open, and perfectly capable of consuming me.

  And as I continued to roll down the riverside, I caught glance after glance of the bird remaining in the same exact pose. Even when I crashed into the water and looked up at it from the bottom of the river, it stayed exactly where it had been. Frozen in place.

  As the river’s current swept me further from the creature, I never took my eyes off of it. And I never felt safer.

  Something had stopped it. And it wasn’t me.

  I couldn’t say for certain, as the river’s current became stronger and pulled me away, but I thought I saw something near the bird. Something larger and somehow even more intimidating. A figure, draped in a massive cloak and wearing a pale white mask, was hovering over the bird. It appeared right out of the air. Like it had always been there, hidden behind the wind, waiting to make its move. The masked figure's hands extended outwards like a grim future waiting for its transformation into the present.

  Beneath the rolling current of the river, I watched with disbelief as the bird monster was tossed aside like nothing. Even under the water’s surface, I could hear a loud crash as several trees were felled from the masked figure’s attack. The Harrowhawk fled from the area, flying high over the river to an unknown place deeper in the woods. Wherever the masked figure came from or went, I couldn’t tell. It was like one minute they were there, saving me from certain death, and the next they were gone.

  Who was that?

  Further information on this being is not available at this time.

  Thank you, but my question was rhetorical. I assumed you didn’t know.

  Whoever or whatever it was, I suddenly felt worried for the Harrowhawk. I wanted to be grateful for being saved from the bird's needle-lined maw, but I hesitated to feel anything but fear towards the masked figure.

  The lesson was clear: whatever horror I faced in this new world, there would always be something worse around the corner.