Ciaran didn't take Verdania's words to heart. Not because he didn't believe her, or because he didn't think it was an issue, but because right now it just didn't matter. Those were future problems, and he had more pressing matters to deal with.
With his new arsenal and a better understanding of the journey ahead, the duo set out once again. This time they had significantly fewer issues.
When they were on roads big enough for ambush Ciaran would wait for the wind to blow in the right direction, sprinkle some of the itchy powder to the wind, and if any dangers were lurking they would break their own stealth.
This way he compensated for their lack of home advantage. The mountain lions were used to the terrain and the winds, they could easily stay hidden normally, but now they were met with a serious issue. When waiting for potential pray to pass chokeholds on the
roads they would suddenly feel 'ants' all over their bodies.
When they looked they saw nothing and yet the itch was eating them alive. The worst part was that once they got distracted, the duo would vanish from their sight. Without any vision of their target and severe skin problems, the mountain lions would usually try to retreat, but the duo never allowed them to.
Ariadne would walk above them and strike at their back legs, while Ciaran would go for their eyes. Since he angled the itchy powder to mostly hit their bellies, now the poor cats had to divert their attention into three.
Most focused on the boy as they were most protective of their eyes. In that case, the spider would gnaw on their legs, either snapping them completely or leaving a nasty wound. Then they just had to bully the cripple until it died. First, they started with small bodily injuries and, if it had not died to Ariadne's venom until then, they let them succumb to their combined injuries.
If on the other hand, their prey focused on the spider the boy aimed his makeshift knife at their eyes. It was made from one of the fans of the snakes the Pack had wiped out, tied together with a wooden handle using spider webs. It was sharp and since the material used was from Rank One existences it had the penetrating power to wound his target.
If he was able to hit the eyes it was a swift kill. If he was not, he aimed for the nose, not as damaging but with the added snake venom that lingered they were still able to finish off the overgrown cats with relative ease.
Whatever the case was, they never went for swift kills and always left their targets to suffer a slow and agonizing death. The duo had learned their lesson, going for speedy kills against strong opponents was too risky. Sure there was a higher reward in that they could complete more hunts if they killed faster, but the risk wasn't worth it.
Their other precautionary measure was that now they always secured a hiding place before moving out to hunt. The mountain had some very steep areas, where a two versus one was simply impossible for them.
It was when they were most vulnerable, because Ariadne had to carry the boy, and there was neither the time nor the space to complete their safety net of webs. These narrow pathways were the reason birds ruled over the mountains. No creature had as much freedom as them to maneuver here.
"If there is no path for us then we will simply make our own," Ciaran told his partner.
He glued the explosives to the narrow paths with webs, let them up, and ran.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
They exploded and attracted a lot of attention. All kinds of beasts, some even in Rank Two came to see what all the commotion was. Naturally, they were all dangerous animals, the weak ones, like the duo, ran away from the loud noise.
This was largely why he needed the bombs. Using them in combat was impractical, they were too loud and too showy. He much preferred to use poison or paralyzers. Without his victims even knowing it, they were already dead, and as a bonus, he did not attract any additional trouble.
The first bombing was quite the attraction, and some beasts kept vigilance over the region for days. Ciaran and Ariadne decided to just wait out the storm. They hunted and practiced their stealth. The hard part about their method was aiming the powder.
The wind had a mind of its own, but after days of analyses, of trial and error, the boy could now reliably hit them where he wanted. Sometimes he would even get it in their eyes. He had a fun time watching the things that caused them so much pain, squirming and ramming their heads into the mountain.
The boy never enjoyed cruelty before. Violence was just a means to an end, but that started to change. With every broken pray, with every fallen foe, the boy began enjoying himself.
Naturally, the pain he caused wasn't the only thing that put a smile on his face. He loved learning new things and his wind trick shots were fascinating. Not because trigonometry was anything super exciting, but because technically speaking what he was doing was practically impossible.
Sure he knew where the wind would blow, but he got a few specs of powder right in the eyes of an animal, and sometimes his targets were even moving.
"Am I predicting the wind or is it moving how I need it to?" He mused.
The boy was asking himself one of the most common questions people asked themselves before breaking into a Novice. Elemental control was a tricky thing to grasp, as technically it wasn't a hard science.
He tried to figure out the rules of his new abilities. The range, the speed, anything and everything that the wind would allow him to do. But he was left disappointed.
The more he analyzed the less the wind obeyed. When he just ~felt~ where the wind would go, it did. And when he wanted it to deviate just a little bit from its path, it did.
"Ari this is driving me nuts. The damn wind is sentient? IS it? Or have I really gone mad?" He would frequently go on rants, and his companion would listen to him.
She had yet to even comprehend what her having a Fire soul meant, so she was not exactly equipped to give him advice.
The boy took his frustrations on the mountain lions. He didn't kill them this time, he used a paralyzer. He kept them sedated and bleeding. Soon the smell attracted one of the vultures.
The boy was a little disappointed it was not the damn Hawks that mutilated them, but the damn things lived higher up.
'They will get their due, patience Ciaran, patience.' The boy tried to calm down his nerves. He didn't want the vulture to feel his bloodlust and be prepared.
The bird was probably the biggest he had ever seen. With a wingspan of at least twenty-seven meters (89 feet). It was truly a beast, but it was nowhere near as fast as the Hawks.
"We can do this Ari, just remember the plan."
The bird grabbed its prey and was about to fly away when the duo moved. Ari used her webs to fling them at its body. They slammed into its chest but the thing was able to keep its balance even if some air was knocked out of its lungs.
Ciaran then threw a bomb at the still-paralyzed cat. It did not blow up however, it was covered in fire. This was the other version of the bombs, the Elizabeth cocktails, the boy called them. Instead of methane gas, he used some flammable alcohol that he made from the fruits in the forest.
The fire was cooking the cat, but it virtually did nothing to the bird. The vulture glared at the two bugs that attacked it before it flew away with its prize.
'Yeah, take it come, and feed it to your family. I hope you enjoy my little mushroom-infested dinner I prepared you.' Ciaran thought, but his face was keeping the image of pure disappointment.
Before they left the bait out, the kid had smashed some poisonous mushrooms into a paste and stuffed the mountain lion full. Then, he stitched it up and laid it in a way, the stitches would not be visible. With the added heat, the mushroom would rot the insides of the cat and emit poisonous gas.
"It would smell a little, but the bird would hardly know what that smell is. With its knowledge, it might even consider it the smell of a well-prepared dinner." He said when they were back at their makeshift home. The boy cared very little for the suffering of the cat, he was just curious whether it died from the burns, the bird's talons in its flesh, or the poison.
A little higher on the mountain two vultures were currently choking on their own blood. All of their chicks were dead, and with them soon to die, their yet-to-be-hatched eggs were doomed to starvation. The birds were crying and cursing whatever had done this to them. Slowly the poison moved to their brains, and then the bird cries stopped, and the night was quiet once again.