Mika leaned farther, trying to grip the edge of the cowhide with his toes, but there was really nothing to grip. Now, here was a case where talons would have served him better.
Mika stuck his head completely through the opening and hung upside down, determined to see, once and for all.
Suddenly, he felt himself losing balance. His human feet scrabbled helplessly on the smooth cowhide but found no grip, and he felt himself falling through the hole, falling straight down with no chance or room to flap his wings, and no hands to break his fall.
Awwkk! He landed with a thump on the top of his head. On something soft. Very soft.
He righted himself carefully, sliding first one foot then another along the curious softness. The softness which was also warm. And curved. Nicely curved. Hmm, it all seemed very familiar. Celia?
His toes found what felt like the edge of a bed and, flapping himself upright, he stabilized, then peered about, trying desperately to see what it was he had found.
But it was dark, too dark to see anything at all. There were sounds. The sound of soft breathing, little murmurs such as a woman makes while sleeping. And scents. A wonderful scent like cinnamon and cloves, maybe just a hint of celandon. Oh, if he could only see something!
All of a sudden, there was a harsh scratching noise. Then, as though in answer to his wish, a dim light flooded the interior of the wagon.
In the few seconds that it took his dazzled eyes to adjust to the light. Mika was stunned, unsure of what he was seeing, doubting his eyes, thinking it an illusion.
But as his vision cleared, he saw that he had not been mistaken. He was standing on the edge of a bed, just as he had suspected. A bed of silk and the softest down.
Mika shivered. Sprawled delicately on the pink silk comforter was the most beautiful young woman in the entire world.
The Princess!
Her hair was a mass of curly black ringlets that covered the pillow cradling her head and shone with small blue highlights.
Her skin was alabaster white, lustrous as pearls, and faintly tinged with the most delicate blush of pink. Her lips, slightly parted, were tiny soft petals.
She was clad in the softest, most fragile gown of pink silk that clung to her voluptuous body like down on a ripe peach.
Her tiny hands were open, slightly curled, and Mika could all but imagine how they would feel on his…
At which point, out of nowhere, a sword appeared in front of his face, or more specifically, in front of his beak.
Belatedly, his brain began to function, assimilating facts, yelling messages: Light! Sword! DANGER! even as he flung himself sideways and rolled back on top of the sleeping beauty, reasoning, he hoped correctly, that whomever wielded the sword would not take the chance of endangering the girl.
Begging the indulgence of the strangely silent beauty, Mika pressed his fluffy form against the softness of her body, his head cradled between the twin mounds of her ample breasts. Any sword thrust capable of killing him would risk harming the girl. He prayed that the strategy would work until he could think of something else.
For a moment it seemed that his gamble had worked. A figure appeared in the center of the now almost blinding light, and slowly took shape.
Mika saw with a sinking heart the largest human being he had ever seen in his entire life. The man was a giant. A veritable giant. The small curving interior of the wagon bent him almost double. Standing erect, Mika had no doubt that the monster would top eight feet.
In addition, he weighed more than any two nomads put together, perhaps four hundred stones!
Mika was able to make his estimate without the confusion of clothes, for the giant wore only a square loincloth which was large enough to smother a two-year-old child.
His arms, chest, and thighs, devoid of clothing and hair, were immense and rigid with corded muscle. Mika doubted that the giant could lower his arms to his sides or knock his knees, so greatly distorted were the muscles that warped those extremities.
Mika formed all of his impressions in the blink of an eye, then became too frightened to blink his eyes and stared in fixed terror at the angry face so close before him.
The giant's head was bald and gleaming, his ears bracketing the white boulder of a head like two distended fungi.
His eyes gleamed in his doughy face like shiny chunks of anthracite and were made more harsh by the total absence of eyebrows.
His nose was a blobby affair, its various bends and planes giving evidence of having been broken numerous times and set without the benefit of a healer.
His mouth was but a cruel slit through which his foul breath rasped loudly.
Clutched in one immense hand was an equally immense sword, the well-honed edge of which gleamed silver.
The giant snarled silently, and his face twitched into an awful grimace while his sword trembled barely a hand's span from Mika's quivering body. It was obvious that the giant was uncertain what he should do.
Desperately Mika looked at the giant, trying to formulate some plan of his own.
Then, the giant's hand shot out, grasped the back of Mika's neck and began to pull. But owls have no necks, and the man's hand found nothing to grab but feathers, which he pulled and tugged, causing Mika great pain.
Mika was determined not to be separated from the girl, so he opened his beak and gripped the scarlet ribbon that criss-crossed her dress, gently separating the girl's breasts, and hung on tight, clasping her generous figure with outspread wings. The sword hovered nearby, waiting for even the tiniest sliver of space so that it could slip between the girl and his body. He clutched harder. What a waste, he thought. Here I am pressed up against the most beautiful woman in the world, and I'm an owl.
Then the thought spun out of his mind as the giant gave up his painful tugging and began beating on Mika's head with the hilt of the sword.
Damn! This had to stop. Mika knew that he had to get out of the wagon and soon, or he would be one dead owl. Letting go of the ribbon, he swiveled his head and sank his beak into the giant's arm. The sensation was very satisfying. Blood spurted in every direction and flowed down Mika's throat. Strange that he had never noticed how good blood tasted before.
The giant tried to shake Mika off his arm, but there wasn't enough room in the wagon to swing a cat, let alone an owl, and all he succeeded in doing was bashing his elbow against a wooden strut. He hissed angrily. The giant tried to pass the sword to his left hand, but Mika kicked out with his foot and the sword fell to the floor with a tinny clatter.
The wagon was shaking violently now, and out of the corner of his eye, Mika saw the cowhide covering behind the driver's seat start to open. Then the giant swung around, obscuring Mika's view. Mika bit down harder. The giant grunted soundlessly and fell against the cowhide. Mika heard a startled exclamation and guessed that the driver had been knocked off his perch.
Mika had only a second to hope that the fall had been fatal, for the giant was up to no good. Using his arm, the one Mika was biting, the giant pressed against the owl's throat, crushing him against the side of the wagon.
Against his will, Mika was forced to open his beak in an attempt to suck air into his lungs. As he did, the giant ripped his arm free and grabbed Mika by the chest, holding him out at arm's length while reaching for the knife that hung from his loincloth.
Time to leave! Mika kicked the giant full in the face with all his might and felt the man's nose squash beneath the hard, callused ball of his foot.
He rammed his big toe into the giant's eye, stepped on his shaved head with his other foot, and tore free of the giant's grasp, leaving the man nothing but a handful of snow-white feathers, as he scrambled through the hole in the roof of the wagon and flew away.