Cresentwing
A swift, and like an off-world swift it is built to never really land -- feet reduced nearly to nothing, wings like a scythe blade, a whole life spent airborne but for the handful of days needed to nest and raise a single brood. What's different about a cresentwing is how long that life runs, and how much of it seems to be spent listening rather than looking.
They fly in screaming parties at height, wheeling over Hellsborough's rooftops in formations that shift half a second before anything visible would explain the shift, and I've come to believe -- though I can't prove it -- that a cresentwing party reads the the hive mind's chatter the way a starling reads the bird next to it, banking on a signal the rest of us don't get.
The danger isn't the bird in isolation. It's what a cresentwing party knows before you do. A flock that suddenly climbs, hard, all at once, and goes silent, has heard something in the hive mind's traffic worth leaving the sky over, and in my experience that something arrives at ground level within the minute.
Individually they're near-impossible to catch and not much of a threat if you did -- the beak's built for insects, not fingers. It's the collective behaviour that earns the entry, not the bird.
Field note: if the cresentwings go quiet and climb all at once, don't wait to see why. Take cover before you find out.
| Type | Listener |
| HP | 2 |
Sign-up to see the Foked Stat blocks
Free eBooks & Games
