Crow spiraled through the air. His ruined tail feathers were making flying difficult, but he couldn't shift yet, not until he landed. He twisted sideways and caught a draft, before dipping down and tucking in his wings a bit. He stumbled to the ground, shook himself, and was about to transform when his eyes caught a flash of movement. His head snapped around, and his beady birds' eyes stared straight at a rather disheveled faun. Oh. Well, that's a relief. He shifted back into a human, then heard the crackle of a boot crushing a dry leaf. He spun around, and saw, concealed in some shrub, a masked face. And a gun. He froze for a second, momentarily panicking, as the realization hit him that he was defenseless. Then Crow remembered he was an inhuman. Oh, right. As the Pure soldier pulled on the lever of their gun, Crow's body became smaller and smaller, sprouting feathers, his feet growing scales and arching into claws. He felt something hurl past his head and didn't need to look back to know it was the bullet that had been aimed at his face a second before. He threw himself into the air, flapping quickly to avoid being shot. How many of these dang thugs are there?! He hovered for a second, trying to locate the other Pure. Three of them, it seemed like. He swerved to dodge another bullet. I need.., he scanned the ground, shelter! His eyes had locked upon a small stand of crispy-looking trees. He dropped downward, then cawed in surprise as he had to flap his wings sharply to dodge more shots. He realized, too late, that his new path led him directly into a tree branch. Crow managed to stop himself from hitting it face-first, but his wing whacked against it, hard. He heard a vicious snap and fell into the tangle of bushes near the roots of the tree.
