Extraction In The Witcher

"Boar or grouse?" Abel said to himself while stroking his chin thoughtfully. 

He stood on a thick branch with his wings folded behind him, looking down at the forest floor below. Glancing left he saw a plump sow and her piglets rustling through the undergrowth looking for fallen hazel nuts. Then he glanced right and looked at a colorful grouse gorging itself on blackberries. 

It had been two wee since Abel moved out to the forest. During this time he'd flourished, eating to his hearts content and swooping through the skies. The predators of the forest, wolves, lynxes and bears were unable to touch a single feather of his. 

"I fancy grouse." Abel decided. 

He stepped casually off the branch and into the air. Just as his feet began to fall he flapped his wings and was lifted neatly onto the branch of a nearby tree. Abel delighted in jumping from branch to branch, the thrill of flight never failed to make him smile. 

Due to his wingspan of nearly 5 meters Able struggled to move freely in the lower regions of the forest. He preferred to stay in the canopy where his movement was unrestricted. His life had changed drastically since he found that fateful feather, but his strong instinct of self preservation remained.

Abel knew that the forest floor was the most dangerous place for him. His greatest strength was his incredible agility and maneuverability, his combat ability paled in comparison. He viewed safety as the most important thing and never lingered where claws or arrows could reach him. 

Abel's hunting style was extremely unusual. He lacked the sharp talons of a griffon and the thick trees prevented him from using momentum to hunt like a falcon. Therefore he had to think creatively. 

'Quietly does it.' Abel thought to himself as he glided from branch to branch. He moved slowly to avoid making any noise that could alert his prey. After a few minutes he was standing a few meters above the unsuspecting grouse, gripping his axe tightly. 

The grouse ate happily, its feathers stained blue-ish purple by the abundant berries. It was springtime and food was plentiful, it had already stored a considerable layer of fat in preparation for winter. 

A whooshing noise from above sent the grouse into a fit of panic. It's legs pawed frantically at the earth and it tried desperately to flee. But it was much too late. 

With a forceful flap of his wings Abel was propelled down at incredible speed. He immediately folded them behind him so they wouldn't crash into the branches around him. The veins in his right hand bulged around the handle of his axe and his eyes were fierce. 

Thwack! 

The axe's blade sliced cleanly through the grouse's neck. The creature's head fell to the ground with a soft thud, its eyes still wide with panic. 

Abel looked at his kill and smiled. His face then quickly became solemn and he looked left and right before spreading his wings and flapping. His feet landed smoothly on a branch a meter or so high. Abel repeated this process, each time carefully choosing branches where the foliage was sparse so his wings could flap freely. He was able to generate enough lift to leave the ground even with his wings only partly extended, but he always preferred to be safe not sorry. 

Once he reached the canopy Anel's ears were graced by a symphony of birdsong. His smile faltered as he turned his head to the decapitated grouse in his hands. He had initially felt reluctant to hunt birds, there was a strange kinship between him and other winged creatures, but the delicious taste of fresh grouse quickly won over his moral compass. 

"I should cook soon." Abel mumbled, lazily kicking his legs as he sat in the treetops. 

Although the modifications to his body were magical, Abel didn't wish to test whether his stomach could handle raw meat. Instead he opted to cook in the daytime in a large clearing where he could easily take to the skies if a predator appeared. 

Abel thought of the red-eyed wolves from a few days prior that lurked in the shadows watching him cook. Over the last few weeks he'd formed a strange sort of friendship with the local wolf pack. When he had eaten his fill he would toss his leftovers into the trees for the wolves to eat. 

The highly intelligent wolf pack quickly learnt that the appearance of the strange winged ape meant free food placed on their door step. The winged ape placed his hunt in some kind of orange spirit which caused it to blacken. The taste of the meat touched by the unknown orange spirit was more delicious than anything the wolves had ever tasted. 

Given the opportunity Abel knew that the wolves would probably tear him limb from limb, but he couldn't help but view them fondly. He hadn't spoken to another human since he came to the forest. The wolves and a few eagles that seemed to faintly recognize him as one of their own kind were the only connections he had. 

Abel sighed and took to the skies. He looked at the landscape whizzing by below him. In that moment a feeling in his heart was confirmed. 

'I need to leave.' 

The beauty of nature was endless. Every day Abel relished the rise and fall of the sun and the twinkling of the stars. But he was still a man, even if body no longer appeared as such. He missed conversations with the other woodcutters and listening to the bards sing in taverns. 

Abel knew that some of the things he enjoyed as a human might've been lost to him forever, but that didn't mean that all hope was lost. His mutated appearance also opened new doors for him, there were other inhuman intelligent races in the world of the Witcher, perhaps amongst them he might find kinship. 

There was another major driving factor behind Abel's decision to leave. 

'If a feather could do this to me...perhaps other things will do the same.' 

Abel's instinct for self preservation was strong, but he was still willing to bear some calculated risks. He had explored the entirety of the forest and he was the only supernatural creature present. He had tried to summon the golden words with the skulls of various beasts he had found in the forest, but every attempt lead only to failure. 

Abel knew that monsters were not as abundant on the continent as they had once been. The creation of witchers had lead to the hunting of countless monsters. The number of monsters continued to dwindle alongside the witchers that risked their lives to hunt them. 

"A witcher, no better place to find monster parts then in the pockets of those who slay them." Abel mused to himself. 

He had no desire to engage in the risky business of hunting monsters. Not at least if he wasn't completely confident he could do so without endangering himself. There were certainly risks involved in seeking out a witcher, he had no doubt that the crafty monster hunters knew a myriad of ways to deal with flying foes. 

Abel thanked the fates that he had been fortunate enough to grow wings. The life-saving ability flight provided was simply invaluable. Even if a witcher had a thousand ways to kill him, they would be helpless if he hid in the clouds and only communicated from a distance. 

'But where should I go?' Abel felt a headache coming on as he thought about his dire lack of knowledge. 

He knew that he was a citizen of Cintra. He was smart enough to head as far north as possible and away from the capital city. When the armies of Nilfgaard marched on Cintra he wanted to be absolutely nowhere near. 

If he headed further north he would enter the territory of Temeria which was under the role of the cold-hearted but powerful King Foltest. Foltest was portrayed in the Netflix adaptation as generally incompetent, but he was actually widely considered to be a good king. His armies were large and he left the peasants enough grain to fill their bellies. 

Abel had heard the rumors circulating amongst the woodcutters that a bloodthirsty monster dwelled in the Temerian royal mansion. He knew that this was in fact Foltest's sister, transformed by a wicked curse into a beast known as a striga. In the Witcher games, Geralt succeeded in breaking the striga's curse but was seriously wounded in the process. As of yet no news regarding the white wolf's appearance in Temeria had reached his ears, thus he could only assume that Geralt had yet to face the striga. 

This posed an opportunity for Abel to meet the legendary white wolf and perhaps exchange a kikimore's claw or a wyvern's tooth. Abel was not foolish enough to consider himself a son of destiny such that he would immediately encounter Geralt once he entered Temeria, but he knew that Temeria was certainly preferable to the massacre that could take place at any moment in Cintra. 

'Then it's decided. To Temeria I must go.' Abel concluded.